04 Sphere Song - The Isle of Destiny

by Tricia O'Malley

  “You’re right, Da” Neala said, eyes on her father’s face. “Thank you for teaching me to be a self-reliant and strong woman who, despite everything, can cook, run a business, and maintain healthy relationships with friends. I forgive you for not being what I needed you to be. Because I found myself on my own.”

  With that, Neala held up the stone, and it began to pulse gently in her hand. Her father’s image wavered a bit, growing almost watery around the edges, and his face contorted in rage.

  “You’ll never amount to anything! You’ll see! You should have done as I said.” His shouts grew softer as she held the stone up, ignoring him, and looked at it.

  “Domnua, show thyself,” Neala ordered, and the image of her father faded away to show a smiling silver fae dancing in glee in front of her. “Just as I thought.”

  The smile died on his face as she threw a knife at him, impaling him directly through the heart, and he dissolved quickly into a silvery puddle on the floor. Bending over the puddle, Neala grimaced as she gingerly pulled her knife out and wiped it clean on her jeans. Not something she’d particularly enjoyed, but she wasn’t stupid – she’d seen how ruthless the Domnua could be.

  “Well, that was certainly interesting. I suppose that was the forgiveness lesson Fiona was trying to teach me. Not a fun one, that’s the truth of it then,” Neala said under her breath. She pocketed the stone and continued carefully down the hallway, dagger ready and waiting for what surely would be another trap.

  It didn’t take long, but this time she wasn’t sure what vignette she was stepping into.

  Neala hung back, watching as a couple approached her, a man and a woman, both in flowing purple robes and carrying the telltale tinge of purple that marked them as Danula. Relieved that she finally had assistance, she smiled at the couple.

  “I’m glad to be seeing you then, as I’m in a fierce pickle,” Neala said, smiling gratefully at the man and woman.

  “We’re certainly not glad to be seeing trash like you,” the woman snipped, and Neala backpedaled, holding the dagger higher in front of her.

  “Really, I can’t understand why Dagda must trifle with these humans. They are so low-class,” the man said, shaking his head at the woman beside him.

  So these were Dagda’s parents, Neala realized, and examined them more closely. From what she understood they were still living, so she’d need to tread carefully here in case these were, in fact, his real parents and not just some Domnua-fueled apparition. Reaching one hand in her pocket, she palmed the stone.

  “Apparently he must think we’re fun,” Neala quipped.

  The couple shuddered in disgust. “He’ll dilute our bloodline with the likes of you,” the woman sniffed.

  “Because being half-goddess is so bad?” Neala asked, raising an eyebrow as she studied the couple. She could see where Dagda got his striking looks. Both of his parents were tall, his dad was similar in size to Dagda, and he had his mother’s striking eye color.

  “That hardly matters. You’ve been tainted with human blood. I honestly can’t imagine what Danu was thinking giving the role of Seeker to humans. She might as well be condemning the world to destruction for all their ineptitude,” Dagda’s father complained.

  Neala wanted to bury her face in her hands. No wonder Dagda had taken off and roamed the world. With parents who were so close-minded and judgmental, it must have been virtually impossible for him to have any real intellectual growth. She admired him even more now for having forged his own path and made himself his own man.

  “Oh, I’m not sure about that. We humans tend to have a surprisingly resilient spirit. You’ll be seeing us celebrating when this is all over,” Neala said cheerfully, and held up the stone. “But I’ll be forgiving you ahead of time, just in case this is part of my lesson too.”

  “Forgiving us? We’ve done nothing wrong,” Dagda’s mother held a hand to her robe, offended at the thought that a human could imply they were wrong about something.

  “I’ll be forgiving you anyway, as that’s the kind thing to do when small-minded people sprinkle their limited, rigid opinions everywhere. Let’s chalk it up to lack of education and world experience. I wish you the best of luck, though. Perhaps we’ll have a glass of wine when I see you next,” Neala said.

  She looked at the stone, now glowing in her hand. Dagda’s parents were fixated on it, their gazes growing hungry with lust, and the purple tinge slipped a bit to show the silver beneath. “For now though, I’ll be saying my goodbyes.”

  In two quick motions, Neala pivoted forward and dealt quickly with the Domnua masquerading as Dagda’s parents. Two more silvery puddles slid to the floor, and once again Neala cleaned the dagger on her pants. She grimaced at the thought of the bloodshed, but it didn’t seem real to her. Bright silver blood just didn’t make her think of death in the same way human blood did. It was as if she were in a dream or playing a video game.

  Edging forward, she turned a corner – and screeched, ducking an instant before a sword swooped overhead.

  “Holy shite, I’m sorry. I thought you were a Domnua.”

  “You must be Sasha.” Neala glanced up, panting, from her crouch on the floor.

  “Aye, I am. And I’m more than pleased to be making your acquaintance.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Sasha looked like a warrior; Neala could see why Bianca had found her to be a bit troublesome at first. Dressed in black pants and a fitted black tank, with black hair that fell straight down her back and eyes that lit up her face.

  “Seeker?” Sasha asked, still brandishing the sword.

  “Aye,” Neala said, showing her the stone.

  Sasha nodded, bringing the sword down to rest at her side. “I’ll be apologizing for that then. It was hard to know who was around the corner when the door in the wall appeared.”

  “I can understand that. I’ve just had a few weird run-ins of my own,” Neala said. “I’m Neala, by the way, and I’m guessing you are Sasha.”

  “Aye, that’s me. Run-ins? Any more to worry about?” Sasha asked, peering over Neala’s shoulder, ever the warrior on alert.

  “Not that I saw, but I can’t promise anything. I honestly have no idea how I got in here, or where we are inside the fortress,” Neala admitted.

  “You know more than I do. I was dropped into the middle of this room by a supremely angry goddess. At least you know where we are. Speaking of – where are we? Have you heard from Declan? Is he safe?”

  “Aye, he came to find us with Fiona. We’re on Cape Clear Island, in a ruin of an old fortress,” Neala said. “And Declan is sick with worry over you.”

  “Ahhh, Declan.” Sasha rubbed her hand over her heart. “He’s a good man.”

  “He seems to be. A handsome one too.”

  “Doesn’t hurt either.” Sasha shot Neala a quick smile, then scooted forward to peer down the dark hallway. “My vote is we keep moving. You first, as you’ve got the light, and I’ll bring up the rear.”

  “What if something comes up behind you?” Neala asked.

  “Don’t worry about me, I’ll handle it,” Sasha said with absolute confidence.

  Neala believed her. Sasha carried herself with a ‘don’t mess with me’ attitude that Neala found particularly appealing. If she had to go back down a dark hallway potentially full of murdering fae, she could have worse at her back.

  “How did you get in here anyway?” Sasha asked as Neala began to walk down the hallway, proceeding cautiously with dagger in hand again.

  “One moment we were all outside; the next I saw a door. I had barely started to approach it before I was just sucked inside. I don’t even know how it happened,” Neala admitted. “I fear I’m not the best Seeker for the job.”

  “You’re exactly the right Seeker for the job. Each one of us was picked for the goddess’s own reasons. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have what it takes, so enough with the pity party,” Sasha said.

  Neala surprised herself by laughing. “
Thanks, I needed that. Considering I just killed several Domnua on the way in and unlocked whatever portal it was to get you out, I should be patting myself on the back instead of talking down to myself,” she said as they reached a turn in the corridor and cautiously peered around it.

  “That’s the way of it. Show no mercy. They’ll take you down in a second. Nasty buggers,” Sasha said.

  “That helps. I keep thinking they are people, but maybe I need to look at them like cockroaches.”

  “I view them as cyborgs. No conscience, just blindly following their master. It’s not like they’re going back to family and friends at home. They are from the underworld,” Sasha said.

  “That’s even better. Okay, I can do this.” Neala blew out a breath.

  “Good, because you’re about to have to do it several more times,” Sasha said as they pulled up short at a group of Domnua who hovered in a room. On a fierce bellow, Sasha dove into the fray, mowing down Domnua with the sword, while Neala did what damage she could with her little dagger. It was over moments after it had started, with Neala and Sasha breathing heavily in the middle of the room.

  “That’s going to get old real quick,” Neala commented, trying to slow her racing heart.

  “It does. But not much longer and we’ll be past all this,” Sasha said, then tilted her head. “Shh… listen.”

  They both heard Bianca’s shout at the same time and ran in unison toward the end of the room, where a window now stood in the wall. Down below, they could just barely make out the scene of a battle, illuminated only by the moon and the headlamps their friends still wore.

  “Once more into the breach,” Sasha commented and swung one leg over the window, dropping lightly to the ground a floor below. Neala didn’t land as gracefully, but rolled and caught herself in time to fend off another Domnua.

  “Aye, I’m sick of this already,” she muttered.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Nice to see you, ladies,” Bianca called when the last Domnua had been felled. Sasha was saved from answering, as she was already in a heated liplock with Declan, who was refusing to put her down.

  “Sorry for the detour,” Neala said, trying to catch her breath. The battle had been a fierce one and the first in which she’d fully participated or managed repeated hand-to-hand combat. It was not something she wished to repeat anytime soon. She jumped when Dagda landed in front of her in his haste to get to her.

  Dagda said nothing. Instead he ran his hands over her, touching all her curves until she batted his hands away. “Stop it.”

  “You’re safe,” Dagda said, ignoring her and testing her limbs, lifting an arm, looking for wounds.

  “I’m safe,” Neala hissed, trying to step back from his hands. Unfortunately, his touch was having anything but the effect she wanted, and what with the way Declan and Sasha were carrying on, and the lingering adrenaline of the battle, her thoughts were cruising toward a decidedly more sexy direction.

  “I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight,” Dagda said, still searching her body with his gaze, seeming terrified that she was hurt.

  “You didn’t. I was right there with you. One instant I was and the next I stepped away and was sucked into some sort of magick. It’s not your fault,” Neala said, surprised to see the anguish on Dagda’s face. “I swear to you, I’m fine.” She reached up to put her hand to his cheek.

  He allowed her to touch him for but a moment before pulling back. “It’s my job to protect you. I failed,” he said, his face still mutinous.

  “You didn’t fail. I had to accomplish my steps of the journey inside, on my own. I think that’s part of what this is – the quest, you know? I have to do some tasks on my own. And you did exactly what you were supposed to do, which is fend off the army outside as well as protect everyone else. Weren’t you the one reminding me that we’re all in this together?” Neala asked, crossing her arms over her chest and staring the big oaf down until he shrugged.

  “It’s different for me,” Dagda said.

  “It’s not, but I’ll not be arguing that. I suggest we get off this island and to a safer spot. We can argue all you want then,” Neala said, feeling a wave of exhaustion set in. With only a few hours of sleep and several battles in a matter of days, she was ready to drop.

  Seeming to read her, Dagda scooped her into his arms and began to stride across the hill, his long legs eating up the distance while everyone followed in line behind him.

  “This is highly unnecessary,” Neala pointed out, looking up at his mutinous face.

  “You’re dead on your feet.”

  “Don’t you think you should be carrying Fiona instead? She’s much older than me,” Neala commented, trying to crane her neck to see behind him.

  “She’s a tough old bird. She’s fine.”

  “Dagda!” Neala all but shouted and he stopped, looking down at her. The moment stretched between them and Neala felt her stomach quicken as she looked into his handsome face. “Put me down. Please,” she said gently, feeling a little out of breath.

  Dagda put her on the ground as delicately as if she was a baby bunny, and Neala smiled her thanks at him. Turning, she waited for Fiona and the others to catch up.

  “Sorry about that. He was worried because I’m exhausted,” Neala said quickly, hoping to move past the knowing looks on Fiona’s and Bianca’s faces.

  “I’ve got just the place for us to rest this evening,” Fiona said, winking at Neala.

  “I… I don’t think we can join you, though not for lack of wanting to,” Sasha said, her pretty face in distress. “But I’ve been told I’m not allowed on the next leg of the quest.”

  “You’re not,” Fiona agreed.

  “But… will they really know? Who is deciding this? I see no reason I can’t help along the way,” Sasha protested, the sword hanging comfortably at her side.

  “Clare couldn’t come along either,” Bianca said, patting Sasha’s shoulder in sympathy. “I know how hard it is for you not to jump in on the battle.”

  “It’s not fair,” Sasha complained and Declan wrapped an arm around her, pulling her back against his body. They fit together nicely, Neala decided, seeing them like this. She could all but see their bond just by the way they held each other. He whispered something in Sasha’s ear that made the look on her face change from one of petulance to instant desire, so hot and fast that Neala felt the punch of it.

  “You need to let others fight their battles too. Lessons to be learned and all that,” Fiona pointed out.

  “Speaking of which – what happened in there?” Bianca asked, rubbing her arms to keep warm against the damp.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Neala demurred, not wanting to get into it or bring up Dagda’s parents while they were all standing out in the cold.

  “I’m holding you to that.”

  “In the meantime, I guess I have to give this beauty up once again,” Sasha sighed, and held the sword out to Neala, who just gaped at her in surprise.

  “I can’t take that.”

  “You have to take it. It’s part of the rules. I also have this for you.” Sasha handed over another velvet bag and Neala took it, tucking it in her pocket without looking at it, but still refusing the sword.

  “I can’t take this. I’ll kill someone,” Neala said shaking her head.

  “That’s the point,” Sasha said, rolling her eyes.

  “Most likely myself,” Neala argued until Dagda reached over, grabbed the sword, and tucked it under his arm.

  “It comes with us. Now move. Michael should be waiting with the boat if he didn’t just take our money and run.”

  With that, they filed silently to the water, a trail of headlamps in the dark hills, the quiet surrounding them filled with a foreboding promise of danger.

  Chapter Thirty

  “I don’t understand. Who is making all these rules? Why can’t Sasha come with us? Did you see how she moved with that sword? I’ll never be able to use it like she did,” Neala asked, unbr
aiding her hair in the front seat of the car and running her hands through the tangled tresses. Behind her, Fiona, Seamus, and Bianca were tucked into the back seat of the Land Rover while Dagda drove. He’d been silent since their encounter, and Neala hadn’t been interested in pushing him into a conversation until his mood had passed. He stared steadfastly at the road in front of them, ignoring the chatter as his eyes constantly scanned for danger.

  They’d said reluctant goodbyes to Sasha and Declan, whom Michael had gladly taken into town and secured a car so the couple could head home to Dublin. It was Michael’s big night as a tour guide; Neala imagined the man had to be happy for the unexpected windfall of cash. Fishing could be a tough and unsteady industry.

  “It’s the old way of things,” Fiona said. “Curses made centuries ago have rules that must be followed. Magick binds these rules. Applying new magicks on top of old magicks makes it even more complicated. Basically, we need to follow orders. Sure, we could play fast and loose with them – but when the clock counts down and all the treasures are found, or not found, who is to say what will happen? And if it’s because we didn’t stay within the boundaries of the curse, I’m not looking to be the one to explain that to the goddess.”

  “It seems silly is all. You’d think we’d want every man – or woman – on deck, so to speak,” Neala grumbled.

  “I couldn’t agree more. But because the fae are who they are, things are always trickier. Nothing is as it seems.”

  “Is that true?” Neala asked Dagda, who ignored her, but Seamus piped up from the backseat to speak on behalf of his brethren.

  “Aye, ’tis true. We fae do love a riddle just as much as we love games and magicks. Combine all three and we’ll often have ourselves quite a majestic puzzle to be solving. It brings us great joy, and we also like outsmarting others. In this case, we’d like to outsmart and overpower the Domnua; it’s just that this time we are playing for much more than a simple prize or some coin – it’s for our world.”