“I need you to stay awake,” Bianca said briskly. When Neala ignored her, she smacked her lightly in the face, making Neala’s eyes pop open. She glared at Bianca.
“Rude.”
“It would be rude of me to let you die, wouldn’t it?” Bianca asked, and brought a cup to Neala’s lips.
“What is it?” she asked as the boat pulled away from Dead Man’s Island and began the trek home.
“Whiskey, naturally,” Bianca said. “Down the hatch.”
It burned straight to her core, but it was a good whiskey and soon enough began to work its magic, heating her insides as her core temperature began to return to normal. Dagda hovered over her, never leaving her side, while Lochlain cradled Gwen and murmured into her ear.
“Is Gwen well?” Neala whispered to Bianca, too terrified to ask about the baby.
“I think so, but I’m giving them a little space until we know for sure,” Bianca whispered back.
Neala leaned back, cuddled into her warm cocoon, and tried to process everything she’d just gone through. From the mermaids to Dagda deciding he wanted to give their relationship a chance – it was a lot to take in. For now, all she cared about was knowing if Gwen’s baby was safe.
“Neala,” Gwen called, and Neala sat up straighter, peering across the boat to her.
“Are you okay?” Neala asked, her eyes hopeful.
“I am. Whatever Fiona gave Loch was the right thing to take. The baby’s safe. She’s a tough one,” Gwen said.
Loch’s face lit with joy. “She?” he asked, nuzzling his face into Gwen’s neck.
“Aye, I feel it,” Gwen said.
“She will be a warrior queen among her people,” Loch declared. They all cheered, delighted that there was some good news coming out of their scare.
“Oh, thank the goddess,” Neala said, pressing hands to tearful eyes. It was all a little much to take in, and she knew the journey was not yet over. Her emotions seemed to be running higher than usual.
“You did good in there, whatever you did,” Dagda said, patting Neala’s shoulder awkwardly. She’d noticed he hadn’t much spoken since they’d gotten on the boat, and she wondered if he was feeling as awkward and unsure as she was.
“I fought as hard as I could. When they kicked Gwen in the stomach… well, I kind of lost it. I was so furious that these stupid dark fae were going to take something so joyful from her,” Neala said.
“You did amazing,” Dagda said, wrapping his arm around Neala and pulling her into the warmth of his body. It felt good to snuggle in like this, comfortable.
And right.
Chapter Forty-Six
It had actually pained Neala to say goodbye to Fiona, baby Grace, Gwen and the rest of their new friends. Her spirit wasn’t broken but her body was tired, and she’d wanted just another night to rest up before they continued on their way. Gwen had been the one who had finally convinced Neala that they must continue on.
“We’ve only a few days left before the curse is up. You can rest when this is all over. Please, I beg of you on behalf of my daughter and the world she is to live in – please hurry.”
You couldn’t really argue with that type of plea, Neala thought, leaning against the window as Dagda headed north.
“You’ve time to rest,” Dagda said, looking over at Neala with a new softness to his gaze.
“I will. I just need a moment to go through some stuff in my head,” Neala said, then sat up straight as she remembered the pouch Gwen had pressed into her hands when they’d hugged goodbye. “I almost forgot – the pouch!”
The Land Rover now held three of the four great treasures of the Tuatha de Danann and Bianca was beside herself with delight as she held each one and examined all the intricacies and beauty each held. It was as if all her Christmases had come at once. For Bianca – someone who had studied these myths and given tours around Dublin speaking on their history – to actually hold and study each piece of magick was like finding the Holy Grail.
“Nobody will ever believe this,” Bianca mused, holding the Spear of Lugh in her lap and poring over the carvings on the handle.
“Watch where you point that thing,” Seamus grumbled.
“Sorry, my love. This is just beyond, though…”
Neala pulled a stone from the pouch along with another small scroll of paper. Holding the crystal up, she let the light shine through, illuminating the deep blue of its hue. The last gem had been rhodonite. Pulling the necklace out from where it draped beneath the loose sweater Fiona had given her, Neala fastened the stone into the Celtic knot pendant. The range of colors looked pretty together, and she wondered what the next stone would be.
Look for the light
Find the will to fight
For at the darkest hour
One must understand true power
The poem on this scroll held a different tone than the last, as though if the goddess knew they’d only have a few precious moments left before plunging into battle.
“That one doesn’t seem to be written by Domnu,” Bianca commented, leaning over Neala’s shoulder to look at the stone in her necklace. “The others had sort of a sing-songy schoolgirl feel to them. This clue seems more intense.”
“This is also Neala’s treasure to find, so perhaps it is back to what the original clues were?” Seamus asked.
Bianca patted him enthusiastically on the knee. “That’s my man, using his brain. He’s probably right. The other clues were to rescue the seekers that Domnu had kidnapped. But, in all likelihood, she probably doesn’t know where this last treasure is. Which means this is a clue from our favorite goddess, Danu.”
It seemed like all of Neala’s thoughts were cramming together in one giant traffic jam of confusion and contradiction. She needed an hour of downtime to turn it all off and not speak to anyone.
“We’re certain of where we go next?” Neala asked, glancing at Dagda.
“Aye, Malin’s Head is the northernmost point. I’ve an idea of where we go from there. Close your eyes. You had a pretty big scare. Rest now,” Dagda soothed.
Grateful that he was there, Neala smiled at him once before dropping almost immediately into sleep.
When she dreamed, it wasn’t restful.
Her shop, once gilded and beautiful – a warm haven of welcome scents and glorious baked goods – lay burned beneath her feet. A line of hungry people, wearing nothing but rags, clambered outside, sifting through the ashes, looking for anything, even a scrap of food, to eat. Neala stood in the midst of it, turning in all directions, wanting to help.
“You see? You have nothing to give,” Domnu said from behind her.
Neala whirled to see Domnu holding the Cauldron of Plenty, the people lining up behind her, crying for food. “The other treasures mean nothing if the world starves. And I will be the one to choose who gets to live, and who will die.”
Domnu tossed a look over her shoulder at the people clambering behind her, their ravaged cries of hunger begging her for but the smallest sip from her cauldron.
“Don’t you see? All I have to do is feed them and I’ll have their allegiance forever. It won’t be so difficult to take over the world once the treasures are mine. I’ll control everything, and you will all bow to me.”
Domnu winked from sight and the people cried out, dropping to their knees in anguish as she left them behind with not a crumb to eat.
Neala sat up on a gasp, blinking rapidly at the glow from the dashboard, trying to place where she was.
“It’s okay, you’re with us. Just a dream, love,” Dagda said, running one hand down her thigh while the other continued to steer.
“I saw Domnu in the dream,” Neala said, forcing herself to bring her breath under control. “She’s going to use the cauldron to control people’s allegiance to her. She’s going to starve everyone if she wins this battle.”
“She won’t win. It’s a common tactic the gods and goddesses like to employ,” Dagda said, his voice serious as he talked Neala dow
n. “A bit of psychological warfare, if you will. Showing up in a dream can shake someone’s confidence quite a bit. Personally, I take it as a good sign.”
“How?” Neala said, turning completely to look at him. Bianca and Seamus were curled together in the back seat, taking what rest they could, with only Dagda keeping watch in the early hours of the evening as they drove.
“It means you’ve shaken her. You’ve got her running scared. She wasn’t thinking we’d get the treasures back, let alone be on our way to collect the fourth. We’ll need to be prepared for her to pull out all the stops. And you are going to need to stay as mentally resilient as you can. This isn’t a normal fight. They’ll use magick to mess with your thoughts.”
“How do I do that? How do I know what’s a trick and what’s not?” Neala asked, tucking one foot under her thigh as she studied him, reaching up to pull her hair down from the rough knot she’d put it into after her swim. Now she began to untangle it over her shoulder, running her hands through the length of it as Dagda spoke.
“Head up, heart open,” Dagda said, sliding a glance her way. “I’ve told you that before.”
“It’s not always the easiest to do,” Neala argued back.
“Sure it is. You’ve just got to trust what feels right to you – no matter what – and have faith it will all work out. I’d say it’s like following your own true north.”
“True north,” Neala murmured. “My true north.”
“Aye, which technically speaking isn’t like the North Star or anything. But poetically speaking, I think it means that our soul is our compass. Your north and someone else’s north might be wildly different – but neither are wrong. However, in the situation we find ourselves in, it’s going to be your true north, your soul that will lead you on the correct path.”
“That’s a hefty lesson, no? The fate of the world is in your hands so just listen to your soul,” Neala scoffed, starting to braid her hair. “Don’t you think it would be easy to second-guess yourself?”
“You can second guess yourself until the day you die. Is that the life you want to live? Commit to a direction and move forward with it. I don’t see this as being too difficult for you. Look at all you’ve accomplished on your own thus far, just by following your own path,” Dagda said, smiling at her.
“Yeah, but I’ve made plenty of mistakes along the way too,” Neala pointed out.
“And I’m sure you’ve learned from them. We all make mistakes. It’s only a failure if you don’t learn something from it,” Dagda said.
“I’d really prefer not to be making one of those mistakes when the fate of the world rests on my shoulders,” Neala said.
“I’d really prefer we didn’t have an army of dark fae tracking us and trying to kill us, but hey, that’s the way of it right now. I’d much prefer to be in a cozy pub with a pint while a pretty girl with a beautiful braid entertains me with her stories,” Dagda said.
Neala felt herself growing warm inside. “I’d like that too,” she said, feeling almost shy again.
“It’s a date, then. When this is over, I’ll take you to the coziest pub I can find and we can talk for hours about nothing or everything,” Dagda promised.
“Greece,” Neala blurted out, then pinched herself. A first date should not be a trip to Greece.
“Greece?”
“Aye, I’ve always wanted to see Greece. I feel like if we save the world, we should get to go see the pretty blue waters of Greece,” Neala said, feeling her cheeks flush in the darkness of the car.
“That’s fair, pretty lady. When this is over I’ll take you to see the pretty blue waters of Greece.”
“Awww, that’s so sweet,” Bianca chimed in, her voice still thick with sleep. “Can we come?”
“No!” Dagda growled.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“Hell’s Hole?” Neala asked in disbelief, looking back over her shoulder at Bianca.
“That’s correct. Hell’s Hole in Malin’s Head is the northernmost point of Ireland, unless we start going out onto some of the wee rocky islands and such. But knowing the fae, I suspect they’ll have picked Hell’s Hole because they do have a flair for the dramatic,” Bianca said, looking pointedly at Seamus.
“What? I’m pretty even-keeled, I’d like to think,” Seamus protested.
“You have your moments,” Bianca said.
“Not as much as you, my delightful sweet muffin,” Seamus said, and Bianca chuckled.
Neala caught Dagda looking at her with a considering eye. “Don’t ever call me ‘sweet muffin,’” she said, and he laughed – a real laugh, robust and filling the car.
Even Bianca paused for a moment. “Wow, the man actually laughs,” she stage-whispered.
“I laugh more often when I’m not on a mission to save the world, I’ll have you know,” Dagda said. “However, I feel like it’s important for me to take my post seriously.”
“I think it’s exactly the right time to be laughing,” Bianca argued. “What’s the point of all this fighting if we don’t enjoy life along the way?”
Bianca’s words echoed in Neala’s head later that night when they pulled into an encampment in the far north of Ireland. Dagda had said he had some friends who would put them up for the rest of the evening, but Neala hadn’t expected this. Bianca crowed with delight as the SUV bumped down a dirt road and its headlights shone on several tents with a group of people gathered around a fire. A woman, easily eighty years old if she was a day, stood in the beam of the headlights.
“Clodagh! We stayed with them one night when we were searching for the sword,” Bianca said eagerly. “They have the coolest tents.”
“Travelers?” Neala asked.
“Got a problem with travelers?” Dagda asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Not in the least. I think they’d be the perfect people to show you the back roads of where we’re going,” Neala answered honestly.
Dagda smiled at her. “Glad you aren’t the judgmental type.”
Clodagh, the old woman, had welcomed them immediately into the camp, kissing Dagda like he was her long-lost son, and feeding them a hearty stew around the fire. When she passed a jug of whiskey around the fire, Neala paused and looked at Dagda. He stood just outside the circle, on guard as always. But he gave her the nod, and she took a healthy swallow, promising herself that would be it for the evening.
The group was a merry one, with much laughter and even some dancing breaking out around the fire, Bianca and Seamus merrily joining in. Neala considered doing so, for Bianca was right – if we may die on the morrow we should dance tonight – but Clodagh settled on a stump next to Neala.
“You’ve got yourself a mighty battle ahead of you,” Clodagh said without preamble.
“I suspect we do, at that,” Neala admitted, meeting the old woman’s eyes, which held the wisdom of her years.
“Is he your man?” Clodagh said, nodding her chin at Dagda, who stood just outside the circle.
“I don’t quite know how to answer that,” Neala said, which was the truth – she didn’t. They hadn’t laid claim to each other, necessarily. They’d only made a promise to try.
“You don’t have to have all the answers to trust it will all work out the way it is meant to,” Clodagh said, tapping one foot in time with the drumbeat.
“Easier said than done,” Neala said, tugging on her braid as she looked at the fire, worry racing through her.
“Worry is for another day. Now is the time for giving,” Clodagh said gently, nudging Neala with her shoulder. “Give your man love.”
“I don’t know that I love him. Or that he loves me,” Neala protested.
“You must give love to get love. Remember that. Now, to bed with everyone. We can dance when the battle is won,” Clodagh said, not allowing Neala any further comments. With one clap of her hands the music ended and everyone shuffled off to their various encampments. Clodagh had shown her their tent when they’d first arrived and Neala made her way to i
t, saying goodnight to a giggling Bianca as Seamus dashed with her to their tent. There was no doubt in her mind how they would be using the time before morning.
Perhaps she should take a cue from Bianca’s book. Live in the moment, for tomorrow will bring what it brings. And, as Clodagh had so carefully reminded her, she needed to give love to get love. Remembering how Dagda had been so willing to give of himself the other night, but refusing to take, she decided it was time to turn the tables on him.
An oil lantern burned brightly in the corner, and Neala crossed to it and turned the wick down until only a soft glow lit the tent. She had to hand it to the travelers; though they were in a tent, it was anything but shabby. With a nice floor and a double bed stacked with soft blankets and tons of pillows, it was as cozy as one could ask for.
Glancing at the front flap, she quickly pulled off her clothes and unwound her hair from the braid so that it tumbled over her shoulder. Then she climbed into bed, pulling a sheet over her body. Her pulse picked up a beat as she waited for Dagda to enter the tent, knowing full well that he was still patrolling the outside and checking for any trouble spots in the perimeter. When the tent flap finally pushed open and Dagda ducked inside, Neala felt her whole body flush from wanting him.
He paused, ducking just slightly because of his height, his eyes on hers.
“I can sleep outside,” Dagda decided, and made a move to go back out.
Springing up, Neala stomped to him and grabbed his arm, pulling him around so that he looked down at her, a furious woman in all her glory before him.
“You will not be sleeping outside tonight. You will be joining me in this bed,” Neala ordered, and began to undress him. At first, he protested, but with each stern look she gave him and each garment she pulled from him, his protests died. By the time she had him standing before her – and a more handsome man in the flesh she’d never seen – they were both breathing harder from excitement.
“Neala, I…” Dagda said, his eyes straying to the front flap again, “I should be outside, watching over you while you sleep.”
04 Sphere Song - The Isle of Destiny Page 18