“Well?” Samantha asked, returning me to the moment at hand. “What did it say?”
Closing my eyes, I instantly recalled the strange verse and the chills it sent down my spine when I first learned what it entailed. As I shared the curse with my wife, my voice was low and gruff, pain and regret lacing through it. If we’d only known the translation beforehand, Cal might not have been lost.
“He who uses this spear well may know, to cast it forward brings death to his greatest foe. But beware the dark and hide from the fog, for those who fail shall never see Tír na nÓg.”
Peering at her, my lips moved down. “Tír na nÓg is the home of the fairies—the gods of Ireland. It is a place of everlasting youth, beauty, and happiness, existing in a section of the Otherworld, alongside Avalon and the Dark Isles.”
A hint of recognition flashed across her face, as I’d expected it would. She’d been with me when the spirit of my ancestor called me forward, instructing me to go to Avalon and save the city from the Black Knights that had taken the place captive.
However, Avalon was the least of my worries at the moment, as well as Tír na nÓg.
“The Dark Isles are what Christians would call Hell,” I continued calmly. “It is a land ruled by the Fomorii, the Children of Domnu, creatures of evil and darkness. Those who are unlucky enough to wander there suffer endlessly, their souls forfeit to the demons. Corruption seeps from the very soil, birthing things that would make grown men cower in fear to behold them.”
“Like the monster that took Cal,” she replied softly.
I didn’t reply. She was an intelligent woman, smarter than I gave her credit for at times, and the same connections I’d made were clearly lining up in her mind, too.
“The Red Javelin resides among the Dark Isles, I am sure of it. All I need to do is go and retrieve it.”
“Hold on.” Raising a hand, she signaled for me to stop there, an incredulous expression fleeting across her features. “You just said anyone who goes there loses their soul to demons.”
I nodded, meeting her gaze evenly.
When I didn’t offer any additional explanation, she shook her head, chuckling slightly. “No. Tristan, no! You aren’t going to go and condemn your soul to Hell, just because you think some magical weapon is there.”
“I don’t plan on staying, if that’s what ye’re thinking.” I straightened, wanting to appear unmovable against her defiance.
“How will we leave?” she demanded. “What plan do you have that will get us out of the Dark Isles and also land us with this Red Javelin?”
“We?” Surprised, I faltered, the image of her beautiful form clasped in the arms of a demon flashing in my mind. “Ye aren’t coming with me Sam.”
“The hell I’m not,” she exclaimed, eyes flashing.
“I forbid it.” My voice echoed in the cave, the harsh sound slapping me like the cold morning of winter. Flinching, I ignored the immediate guilt I felt. Speaking to her so would only make her more determined.
“You forbid it?” She snarled dangerously, hackles rising as I attempted to order her around.
Opening my eyes, I regarded the spitfire, feeling like I was studying a foe rather than my own wife.
Seething, she stared at me with a fiery gaze. “We have had this discussion in the past.” Trembling, she stepped forward, as if she were ready to clobber me over the head and be done with it. “I am your equal and you will treat me as such. If I can fight pirates, battle magic, meet the gods, and converse with spirits in the Otherworld, I can damn well walk into the Dark Isles with you. I am not a doll that will break. You know this. You’ve seen me do these things. You have trained me to face all of them, damn it!”
Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and I retreated, surprised. Samantha was not the kind of woman who cried very often, and even less so when she was angry. If my words moved her to this level of emotion, I had misspoken indeed.
“Sam,” I croaked, searching for a way I could make her understand why I needed her to stay behind. It wasn’t because I thought less of her or I found her incapable of the task. The truth was, I didn’t know how I was going to escape the Dark Isles. There was a very good possibility I wouldn’t. The only thought that had propelled me forward was the notion I had to make it out, to return to her. It would kill me if I let her come along and she succumbed to the Isles.
If I lost her, I might as well be trapped by demons for eternity. The pain would be no different.
“Don’t,” she warned, wiping away a tear as it slipped down her cheek. “Don’t say anything. There is no discussion on this subject. I am coming with you, whether you like it or not.”
Holding my arms wide, I glowered at her, refusing to accept her conditions. “What do ye expect from yer husband? What man would let his love wander into danger so easily, without first trying to convince her otherwise? Damn ye woman, ye are as stubborn as an ass!”
“I’m as stubborn as an ass?” Enraged, she gaped at me, eyes nearly popping from their sockets. “If I’m the ass then you must be the raging bull!”
I gritted my teeth. “I will gladly be the bull, if it means ye are safe,” I maintained.
“How can I be safe if I’m not with you?” The question froze her. In an instant, she was a sad, scared, confused lass once more, the fight fleeing from her like a bird from the night.
“You left me behind,” she went on, quietly. “Again. You stormed from our house and didn’t come back. Have you learned nothing about what happens when we’re apart?” She made a motion of disbelief, a single tear dripping from her chin. “You and I are meant to be together. Always. No matter the danger or the cost. I am supposed to be by your side. Your wife. Your partner. Your equal.”
“My helpmeet, taken from my very ribs,” I quoted, the scripture coming to me unbidden. The verse caused my heart to ache. She was correct, of course. When we’d been separated in the past, terrible things happened. I’d sworn to never leave her alone again, and yet I’d done just that. My intentions had been pure, but my vow was broken all the same.
My anger and frustrations melting completely, I stepped forward, taking her in my arms and holding her tight.
“Stop shutting me out.” She hiccupped, crying freely as she twisted her fingers into my shirt. “Stop trying to protect me. I am yours and you are mine. All day, every day, no matter what.”
Kissing her brow, I surrendered, well aware she had defeated me with her resolve once more. It was near impossible for me to deny Samantha anything, should she truly want it.
“It will be dangerous,” I muttered. “Deadly even.”
“I don’t care.” Her words muffled against my chest, tears soaking my top. “I would rather die with you than live in a world where you are not.”
Clutching her tighter, I fought the wave of emotions her simple words stirred in me. The love I had for this woman made the size of the sea pale in comparison. The sun could go dark and stars fall from the heavens and I would still be able to go on living, sustained only on the adoration I felt for her. She was a balm to my soul, the warmth that kept one from freezing to death in the cold night.
“Ye are my heart, Samantha. I love ye so.” Gently, I touched my knuckle to her chin, raising her face toward mine.
Bright, wet eyes stared at me, filled with life. Her smooth skin glittered in the firelight, long locks brushing along her jaw, revealing a reddened nose and trembling lips.
Leaning in, I kissed them, savoring the taste, not feeling the need to rush. Her body melted against my own, f pulling me closer, a sigh escaping her.
Letting myself explore, I caressed her back, tangling my hands in her hair, slipping across her cool skin slowly, holding her to me as if she were an extension of my own body. I inhaled the scent of her greedily, the smell reminiscent of the ocean and salty air she’d traveled to find me. Licking her lightly and then delving into her mouth, I reveled in the action as if it were the first time, stroking her slowly. A small moan escaped her,
ringing in my ears, and I grinned, my wounded and grieving heart having found its way home once more.
A great clap of thunder sounded, the storm breaking and releasing a torrent of rain on the island. A cold wave of wind rushed into the cave, sending a chill through me, despite the heat Samantha and her touch had kindled.
Breaking away, she peered out the opening, groaning. “We need to go get Mark and Randall. They’ll be soaked and catch their death if we make them stay in this.”
“Hmm.” Not content with releasing her yet, I hugged her close. “Randall can get sick all he likes,” I muttered. “However, I would like to keep Mark for a while longer.”
“You’re not still mad at him, are you?” She watched me expectantly.
“No.” Shaking my head, I released the last of the animosity I’d held toward Mark go. He’d made the choice he considered best when it came to Randall, allowing his leader to make the decisions for him. I couldn’t fault him for that.
As if summoned, the two men appeared in the doorway, soaked through and shuddering. Randall’s shirt was discarded, his chest bare and stitched together where Samantha shot him.
A well of pride filled within me. She would take none of his ridiculous behavior to heart, I was sure of it. The wound he bore now was as good a sign as any she wouldn’t release her guard, no matter how he tried to get to her.
“Don’t mind us,” the villain snapped, glowering as he spotted my arms wrapped around her. “We’re only freezing to death.”
“You needed a bath,” Samantha replied smoothly, only the smallest bit of malice in her tone. “You reek like a rat in the sewer. I don’t know how Tristan has put up with the smell for days.”
“Ye get used to it,” I confessed. “Well, as used to it as ye can.”
Randall snorted, clearly not amused at being the butt of the joke. Behind him, Mark winced, indicating the rain had not been enough to wash the stench that came with being locked in the pit for weeks on end and smuggled out of Paris.
Then, he did something strange. Covering his nose, he motioned for me to do the same, digging into his bag.
Confused, I raised an eyebrow.
Signaling urgently, he indicated to Sam and then shielded the lower half of his face with his hand.
Still not sure what was going on, I clapped my palm across Samantha’s mouth and nose, smothering her startled yelp, and then enclosed my own, regarding Mark cautiously.
Randall rolled his eyes, laughing humorlessly. “You think yourself quite the clown, don’t you, O’Rourke?” Hesitating, he tilted his head to the side, gingerly sniffing himself.
Abruptly, Mark ripped a handkerchief from his bag. Closing the space between himself and Randall, he grabbed the traitor from behind, pulling him against his body, and shoved the cloth in his face.
It was a surprisingly short struggle, even with Mark using only one hand to subdue him. The bastard’s eyes fluttered, his body slowly going limp until he sagged into Mark, unconscious.
Mark tossed the cloth through the cave entrance, and gasped. He seemed somewhat lightheaded himself, leaning along the wall as he held Randall.
“What was that?” I asked, releasing Samantha and going to hoist Randall off him.
“Ether,” Mark breathed, shaking himself as if he were trying to wake up. “I believe they call it—what did the apothecary say—sweet oil of vitriol, in this century.”
Surprised, I paused. “Sea sickness medicine?”
He nodded. “Yes. I thought it might be easier to make him sleep, rather than killing him every few minutes to keep him quiet.”
“Not as much fun, though,” Samantha muttered behind me.
Resisting the urge to snicker, I glanced at her, grinning. “Ye didn’t craft this plan, eh?”
She remained silent, smiling gently.
“It was a bit strong for me,” Mark stated, his voice somewhat squeaky.
Realizing with a start he was going to faint as well, I took Randall from him, setting our prisoner on the ground without much grace or kindness, and grabbed Mark by the shoulders. The fumes from the rag lingered in the air around him, causing my own head to spin slightly.
“What did ye do, pour the whole bottle on that cloth?”
“I’ve been soaking the handkerchief in it since I bought it. I wanted to make sure it was saturated enough, so as to avoid a huge conflict with Randall.” He chuckled, weakly, bending over and putting his hands on his knees. “I think I need a better mask for next time.” Then, pushing me away, he stood, taking a shaky step on his own. “I’m fine, just lightheaded. Thank you.”
I watched as he gingerly approached the rag, sitting in the rain outside. He picked it up, holding his breath as he did so, and stowed it in his bag, shoving the entirety of it into a small, corked bottle.
“It may have been too much,” Sam noted, studying Randall’s form on the ground. “I don’t think it should have affected you like that. Maybe it’s better to have just a few drops? Or to give it to him over time?”
“Like anesthesia,” Mark agreed, thoughtfulness filling him. “We could tie the rag to his face and drip the ether on every now and then. It could work.”
“We could keep him asleep the entire trip and not have to worry anything other than how to get him around.” She seemed more than pleased with the idea.
“That won’t do,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “He’ll need to move on his own. I’ll not be carting him across Ireland and through the Otherworld if he has two legs that work just fine.”
“The Otherworld?” Mark sounded surprised. “Why are we going back there? I thought we’d finished our business in Atlantis.”
“A different part of the realm,” Sam interjected, peering at me hesitantly. She paused, seemingly at a loss for words. In an instant, I understood her silence was for my benefit. She didn’t know how much I was willing to share with Mark, or if I wanted him to know of my past at all.
“Randall and I have business in the Dark Isles,” I responded for her. “An old debt to settle. Once we have finished, we can return home and get on with our lives, assuming The Order doesn’t hang me for a traitor.”
Sam’s face paled. “They came looking for you,” she attested. “Twice. The second time, they searched the entire house. Turned the whole place over. Abella was beside herself with worry and anger.”
Another realization hit me. “Where is the lass? I’ve not seen her without one of you two for some time.”
“She stayed in France,” Mark replied quietly. “To assist a patient who is nearing the end of their days.”
“She insisted she maintain the house and her duties. Honestly, I suspect she was afraid.” Sam’s gaze met mine, a grimace on her features. “Of you and what you did. We all were, Tristan. No one ever expected you to turn so forcefully or quickly against your brotherhood.” A shadow of her former anger flashed across her features. “You’ve made quite the mess for us to clean up. I don’t know how we’re going to get Captain MacDonald to see your side of things.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass if he does or not,” I replied sharply. “I’ve not betrayed anyone and I intend to rid my brothers of the scourge that has plagued us for years. This isn’t his business anyway. I have a debt to settle, and settle it I shall.”
“It’s his business when it involves his treasure and prisoner.” Her tone was calm and cool, but she couldn’t hide the fire inside. “He has a right to be upset with you.” She stared around the cave, fuming. Then, she conceded before another fight could begin. “It’s not important now. We will deal with The Order when we have to. We need a plan. How are you assuming you will accomplish what you’ve set out to do?”
“You’re hiding here to wait out any ships searching for you, right?” Mark interjected, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.
I nodded. “I have to wait until they go to other areas. We’ll be here at least a day or so longer, at most. The eyes of The Order will still be present, certainly, but not as
strongly as they are now. The two of ye were not followed?”
“No,” he stated confidently. “I made sure of it.”
“We knew you didn’t want to be found,” Sam stressed. “And if anyone was going to kill you for your asinine actions, it was going to be me.” She grinned slightly, as if daring me to say any different.
“Good,” I answered, choosing to ignore her. “I’ve been plotting our course to Éire. If we land in Cork, we can consider our steps from there.”
“You don’t want to plan further than that?” She sounded surprised.
“It will be harder for anyone searching for me to discover where we are if we don’t plan it in advance, savvy?” I didn’t need to plan after that, anyway. When we landed in Cork, I’d find a way to enter the Otherworld. There were stories of cave entrances and different means of getting to the mystical land. Once we passed through, we would be lost to those who wished to capture us here.
“How long will it take to sail from here to Cork?” Mark asked, glancing at Randall as the villain’s body twitched. “Two days?”
“Three, at the most.” Curious, I watched the villain as well, wondering how long he would be asleep before needing another dose of the vitriol.
“And you want to stay here for a few days?” Sam sounded surprised. “Don’t you think they’ll get you if you stay in one place too long?”
I smiled confidently. “They won’t. This place is a secret. It is not on any maps, away from any shipping lanes, far enough off the coast that any day sailors wouldn’t stumble across it, and known only to those of us here and my brother.”
“Brother?” Mark’s voice squeaked again. “You have a brother?”
Pausing, I sensed the same despair that had taken over me when I shared Cal’s fate with Sam. Did I want to share that horrible part of my past with Mark? I didn’t know yet. There was no harm in letting him know of Callaghan’s existence, but I didn’t think I could share the story of his death any time soon. It hurt immensely, revealing those dark secrets with Samantha, despite the relief it also brought me.
Stolen Away : A Time Travel Romance (The Swept Away Saga Book 4) Page 19