Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel

by Alisha Ashton

  “Wait, time out. Flag on the play. They tell us that we were founded in the 1820s,” Miko commented.

  “Nah, they were around way before tha,” Ciaran assured. “In fact, they go back just about as far as –”

  “Would ya both shut it?” Taran finally blurted out in frustration.

  The other three struggled to suppress their laughter as Taran grumbled in Gaelic about their inability to stay quiet for a matter of minutes.

  “Anyway, at tha time the fògaraich were sweeping through Europe like a plague. So many mortals were dying tha we ancient faoil called a meeting to discuss the matter. Despite the risk, we voted unanimously to contact the... Ashers...”

  His eyes passed between Miko and Ciaran challengingly. After waiting a moment to see whether either would dare to comment, he went on.

  “... and provide them with knowledge tha might aid them in their efforts. It was Latharn tha approached Vittorio seeking to share what we know of the fògaraich – how best to kill them, what their weaknesses are, and such. Ya must understand, none of us wished to see mortals dying in the very fight for which we were –”

  Ciaran cleared his throat loudly and purposefully at the near slip.

  Taran stopped abruptly, his brows drawing together as, yet again, he nearly said too much. It was difficult for him. He wanted to share their history with Skye. He felt in his heart that she had a right to know. Unfortunately, as he had told her once, it was not his place to decide when she was allowed to have that knowledge.

  Skye nodded in understanding at the meaningful look her men were exchanging. She realized that, whatever it was, they could not get into it.

  “It’s okay, just skip that part and go on,” she said softly.

  Taran gave her an appreciative smile for her decision to spare him an inquisition.

  “But Vittorio would nah accept Latharn’s help,” Taran went on. “He only focused on the fact tha Latharn was nah mortal. He actually tried to stake him, if ya can imagine tha.”

  “Whoa!” Miko cried in surprise. “I can’t believe I’ve never heard anything about this!”

  “Well ya wouldn’t have,” Ciaran laughed. “Tell him why he wouldn’t have,” he said, motioning for Taran to continue.

  “Oh, can I? Thank ya ever so much for the permission,” Taran said sarcastically. “Ya see, after Vittorio unsuccessfully tried to harm Latharn, Latharn and his escorts all transformed and showed him the error of his ways. They put the proper amount of fear in him and warned him nah to try something so foolish in the future. However, likely due to a wounded sense of pride after tha encounter, Vittorio thought to rally his men against us. He began convincing members tha there was a new evil in the world tha needed to be hunted... ‘werewolves’.”

  “Rut-roh,” Miko said with a wince. “I bet that didn’t go over well.”

  “Keep in mind tha we’d stayed below the radar for the most part before tha,” Ciaran offered. “All the sudden we’ve this bloke spreading word of us across the globe. The whole ‘werewolf’ craze tha swept through the world at tha time was his doing. As it always does, panic spread like wildfire. People started chasing shadows, putting together ‘hunting parties’, and slaughtering nah only men, but also innocent wolves by the thousands.”

  “That’s fucked up,” Miko whispered angrily.

  Skye’s blood was instantly boiling at the thought. “Those bastards!” She cried furiously. “They’re lucky I wasn’t around at the time or there would have been hell to pay. PETA’s got nothing on me.”

  “We all felt the same, darling, believe me,” Ciaran assured, “but we could nah kill the ones responsible. They were but mortals.”

  She growled in frustration at his point.

  “They wiped them out entirely in many countries,” Ciaran sighed. “Right here in Scotland, they even erected a sodding shrine to commemorate what they believed was the site of the last wolf’s murder.” He smiled and leaned down to her ear as he went on. “But we’ve quite a bit of forest around here, in case ya hadn’t noticed.”

  “You guys smuggled them in?” She asked hopefully.

  “We broadcast a sort of welcome to them, if ya will, opened the gates and protected the few hundred tha made it,” Ciaran explained. Sighing at the memory of the ones that had not been so lucky, he changed the subject. “Anyways, under Vittorio’s direction, the Pikes also began doing their homework, finding myths in all sorts of cultures about men tha turned to beasts. Which, might I add, painted inaccurate and nah-so-flattering pictures of us.”

  “Aye, it was many a tense year after tha,” Taran agreed solemnly. “By our laws, we do nah harm mortals, but suddenly we had this group of them waging war against our kind. Something needed to be done and fast. We had to strike back at them, but in a way tha would nah compromise our laws. We arranged to attack their bases around the world as one. No mortal was to be harmed, but all documents generated by them regarding the Tàcharain Fhaol were to be destroyed.”

  “Surprisingly enough, all went exactly according to plan,” Ciaran recalled with an impressed nod. “We did nah have a single fatality on either side. It was very well the most boring military maneuver in the history of the world, but all in all, a completely successful campaign.”

  “What we needed was someone rational to speak with,” Taran said. “A younger member of the group, Logan, was well-liked and very influential among its members. In fact, it was Ciaran over here tha found him and spoke with him.”

  “And no need to applaud, by the by. Your heartfelt gratitude and respect are all the payment I require,” Ciaran said with a triumphant grin as he gave his brother a playful shove.

  Taran rolled his eyes. “He told Logan of the arrogance of their leader...”

  “Over a proper pint,” Ciaran interjected as if it was a crucial point.

  “... and made it known tha, despite being able to, we faoil did nah wish to harm them,” Taran continued without paying any mind to Ciaran’s interruption. “After the destruction of their hierarchy, Vittorio was removed from power and Logan was appointed leader. Under his guidance, the group returned to its previous and sole purpose of fighting the fògaraich – this time armed with a great deal of knowledge to aid them in their efforts.”

  “So, for three generations after tha, the leaders held true to Logan’s promise to me,” Ciaran continued. “As I’d requested, they forbade any knowledge regarding our kind from being spoken or documented. The result, as was intended, is the Ashers’ current lack of information where we are concerned.”

  “See? Now it makes sense,” Miko said happily. “I’ve been asking about you guys since I joined up. Not one damned person could tell me anything other than ‘they pose us no threat’.”

  “Despite no losses being suffered on either side, we simply could nah forgive what they had done to mortals and wolves in our stead. Ya feel deeply for the wolves, Miko – sympathize for the atrocities suffered by the slain animals, am I right?” Taran asked.

  “Of course, there’s no excuse for killing an innocent animal. Especially a wolf – that’s like murdering a unicorn. They’re one of the noblest, smartest, most beautiful animals in the world,” he insisted. “Hell, I don’t even like thinking about slaughter houses and all the billions of chickens and cows killed for food every year. But killing wolves? And just for the hell of it? That’s like a whole new level of wrong.”

  Taran smiled at the sincerity of Miko’s outrage. His respect for nature and the life of the world’s creatures was yet another indication of the fine pup he would make some day.

  “But as awful as it seems in your mind, it is ever so much more than tha to us faoil – just ask Skye,” Taran said softly, studying the stricken look in her eyes. “She can feel it in her very blood right now, knows in her heart how blasphemous an act it is to kill a wolf.”

  She solemnly nodded her agreement. An overwhelming feeling was washing over her that a sacred decree had been broken.

  “The experience was a ha
rsh lesson learned by all our kind,” Taran said. “And so now, we keep our distance from the Ashers.”

  “Except for Miko, of course,” Ciaran told Skye. “But tha’s only because we want to lull him into a false sense of security so I can bite... oops, I mean...” he stopped, looking over at Miko in feigned guilt and covering his mouth. “I’ve said too much.”

  “And you’ve effectively reminded me that I’m sitting here in bed with you three freaks,” Miko said with a curled lip as he quickly slid off the mattress. “All right, Skye – thanks for the effort with the laptop. I guess I’ll be on my way so Ciaran can get back to biting guys who aren’t me.”

  “What the fook is tha s’posed to mean?” Taran demanded indignantly. “He’s sure as hell nah been biting me!” He insisted.

  “Sure, dude – whatever helps you sleep at night,” Miko said incredulously as he got his stuff together. “I’ll see you all later. That is, whenever you finally tear yourselves away from one another and come up for air.”

  Taran followed after him, grumbling promises of injury for any further insinuations that anything happened between him and Ciaran. Once he closed the door and made sure it was locked, he returned his attention to the pair in his bed.

  “Holy shite, what a morning,” Ciaran laughed. “Talk about the last two people in the world ya want barging in on ya.”

  “Aye, neither he nor Drostan can keep their mouths shut,” Taran breathed as sat on the edge of the bed. “By this time tomorrow, the ones from my mortal tribe will be bringing ya both torques to wear around your necks. Drostan is likely smelting the ore and recalling my marks even as we speak.”

  “Your ‘marks’? What marks?” Skye asked in honest interest, rolling onto her stomach and gazing up at him. “And what’s a torque? Why would they want us to wear them? And why did he say that you having a girl and a guy in bed was a ‘tradition’?”

  Taran smiled and kissed the tip of her nose, wondering if she realized how much he adored her inquisitive nature.

  “We used them to represent bonds, wee one. Be it to our brothers in arms, families, or mates. Similar to how a solid gold band on the heart finger is accepted by most in this time as an indication a person is married,” he explained. “The ‘tradition’ Drostan was referring to was for warriors to take two lovers. Our lives were filled with travel and often did nah permit us to find a wife by normal means. The woman and boy both wore torques bearing the marks of their master. By the simplest definition, they were slaves, but only in as much as they were owned.”

  Skye arched a brow in amusement. “Your clan had a ‘tradition’ of its warriors keeping a well-rounded palate... of sex slaves?”

  “Nah exactly,” Taran laughed. “It was far more consensual than what you’re describing. In fact, belonging to a warrior of the clan was a highly sought after position. It was more like a family than anything else.”

  “Hmm...” Skye breathed thoughtfully, swinging her feet back and forth above her and resting her chin in her hand as she took this into consideration. “So – if you’re any indication – other than great sex, what were they gaining from these kinky little family units?”

  Before answering, he gave her one of those devastatingly sexy smiles – the kind that made her temperature rise 10 degrees every time she saw it.

  “Slaves came to our lands one of two ways. They were either traded to us in exchange for goods – in which case they had nah been free for most of their lives – or they were captured after their lands had been conquered. Of all the things tha they could be bought for, all the physical labor and hardship tha lay before them as possible futures, being a companion to a warrior was the closest thing to genuine freedom. Ya see, as companions, they were nah required to perform duties beyond those of the free citizens, only to look after their home as in a family. The torques were a means of keeping them safe while their master was away, entitled them to the same level of respect and social status tha he held within the clan. Wearing his mark ensured tha others who might think to harm them knew precisely who they would answer to for the offense.”

  “So it was kinda like the brand of a fògarach coven, just without all the nastiness that goes along with it?” Skye asked.

  Taran shook his head and sighed. “Aye, nah exactly the comparison tha I’d like to use, but they were similar in their purpose. The woman was in charge of all financial decisions in her master’s stead. Once she bore him children, she was seen irrefutably as his equal, a mate or wife rather than a companion. The boy was nah only a lover for those interested in tha sort of thing, but more importantly, he was also an assurance of an heir. It was common for warriors to die in battle long before their sons were old enough to protect the land and woman they had left behind. The boy was cared for, given a proper education, and taught to become a warrior, himself. He was every bit as entitled to his master’s lands as blood kin in the event of his death.”

  “So, to make a brutally long story short, they were glorified sex slaves with an outstanding benefits package,” Ciaran offered.

  Skye smiled slyly as her eyes wandered over Taran’s chest. “If I’d been given the choice of which physically strenuous task I’d be doing on a regular basis for the rest of my life, I’d have been trying like hell to get your torque around my neck.”

  “Ah, ya and a great many others, my love,” Taran told her with a wink. “But I was nah in the market for companionship at tha time. Though I must confess, had ya been there, I’d have changed my mind rather quickly.”

  “She is quite a bit smaller than the women of our time, is she nah?” Ciaran teased as he eyed her appraisingly. “Did ya know they used to march into battle right beside their brothers and fathers and husbands?”

  “Really?” She asked in surprise. “I thought women were always... I don’t know... barefoot and pregnant or something in ancient cultures. Well, aside from the Amazons.”

  “Nah,” Ciaran laughed. “Tha’s just a misconception resulting from centuries of wide-spread brainwashing, a stóirín. In what they’ve deemed ‘Celtic cultures’ like ours – as well as a great many others in those times – there were men who were warriors by trade, such as your love over there, but if a threat came round our parts, we did nah prevent women from picking up swords and protecting their lands. We worshipped the Great Goddess, nah a male deity. We knew damned well how tough a woman was capable of being,” he assured before a grin stole across his lips. “Likely had something to do with the fact tha we did nah water down our alcohol. The women were the ones knocking us upside the heads and keeping us in line when we were hammered, preventing us from gambling away all our possessions. Most of them were every bit as mountainy as Taran, too. Scared the heart outta invaders, tha’s for sure. Imagine their surprise, popping on over to our lands for battle and having women right there in the mix beating them senseless. Of course, tha was back before the Romans and then the Christians came along preaching tha women were dainty li’l flowers in need of sheltering from such things.”

  Skye opened her mouth to ask whether his wife had been so battle-ready and ‘mountainy’, but stopped herself, realizing that it would be a painful reminder. She settled for laughing before turning back to Taran.

  “So wait, you were pretty much entitled and expected to wrangle yourself a bed-full of gratification, but you ‘weren’t in the market’? How come?” She asked, though she was secretly relieved to hear that he had not been in this position before.

  “Firstly, adolescent boys have never held any appeal to me,” he assured with a wink. “And as for nah taking a woman, I had other obligations,” he said, forcing a smile. “My mother was still bearing children well into my teen years. With my father’s health fading, someone had to look after the young ones. Defending our land from neighboring clans and taking part in all the fights for territory provided distraction enough from their care.”

  Skye gave his hand a squeeze and smiled at him warmly.

  “You’re a good man, Charlie Brown,” she
commended.

  “Charlie who?” He asked in puzzlement.

  She sighed in defeat at yet another reference he had not understood and looked over at Ciaran. “We’re gonna have a lot of work bringing him into the now, aren’t we?”

  It had taken her long enough to catch up after ten years, she could only imagine the battle that lay ahead where Taran was concerned.

  “Ya can say tha again,” Ciaran breathed. “D’ya know he’s never been on a plane? Never seen a Guy Ritchie film? Never surfed the web’s diverse and limitless array of pornography?” He paused and added with a guilty clearing of throat, “And ya know, the other information and such I’ve heard is on there?”

  “You little perv,” she laughed and swatted his arm.

  “Sounds fascinating,” Taran said sarcastically.

  “Ya know how hard it was to get him to use a phone?” Ciaran asked. “Took Cathal nearly five years to convince him tha it might come in handy to be able to reach us instantly. I’ll give him this, though – least he actually uses it when the need arises. Several of the ancients, Latharn included, refuse to so much as touch one. Makes them stick out like sore-thumbs in public, the way they avoid technology. But, luckily, we found Taran’s Achilles’ heel. The only way we managed to make him appear somewhat normal was by getting him into cars. We sent him one back when they first came out and he’s been hooked ever since. In recent years, they’ve started coming standard with things like GPS, so he’s nah been able to avoid it completely.” He dropped his voice to a whisper, speaking to her behind his hand. “And he’d never have asked to leave the castle during a Guardianship without the damned things, either. Used to spend his time on post here staring off into space for centuries at a time. Now, from what I hear, he calls Latharn home for a day once a year so he can take a drive through the cities.”

  “I merely appreciate the absence of saddle-sores at the end of the journey,” Taran said with a smirk. “Makes me think of all the pain I’m nah experiencing.”

  “Uh huh, and the impressive collection of imported muscle in the garage is just a candy-apple-red reminder of times passed, is tha it?” Ciaran teased.