“I’m... sorry. What ’power’? When I ‘wielded’ what? I don’t know what you mean,” she insisted softly.
Sorcha’s smile widened.
“I know, child. Ya were frightened by it, ya did nah understand,” she whispered and reached up to Skye’s temple, triggering the memory that had been struggling to reveal itself. “We often repress what causes such confusion.”
Skye cried out and leaned into Sorcha’s hands as the vision exploded in her mind, overtaking her senses.
She was being led through the mansion in shackles; being moved to another room... but the moon... she could see the full moon outside the window. Its white light awakened something deep inside of her. She could hear the scream that erupted from her as the magic broke free. It poured outward, singeing the fògaraich that were restraining her. She could see her reflection in the glass, her eyes swirling with white light as she passed a window in the hall. She had torn her captors apart with her power, skinned them, burned them, and made them suffer just as she had sworn to.
Her eyes flew open in disbelief.
Sorcha nodded that she finally understood.
“Wait, I did that? Oh my God... I did do that,” Skye breathed. “I remember now. I leveled the place. I tortured them... but it wasn’t with my hands. I could always see what had been done to them, but not how. I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten free... how I’d started the fire.”
“Ya were strong enough to wield your power long before tha. Ya only needed the light of the moon to draw upon. They kept ya in the dark, did they nah?” Sorcha asked and Skye nodded. “They meant to break your spirit, to change ya into their kind only after they were certain tha they could control ya. They foolishly believed tha would ever happen.”
Skye looked at her in confusion. “But... why? Why would they want me?”
“Because, my dear, sweet child – ya are the only being in the world as strong as I am,” Sorcha replied softly. “They thought to have ya come against me, to turn back my curses and kill me as they can nah.” She inclined her head to Drostan. “I bade the whispers to send him visions of ya on the night ya released your magic. He searched for ya tirelessly ever since.”
“Really?” Skye asked as he stepped closer.
“Aye. S’pose it’s aboot time for tha explanation ya keep asking for,” Drostan said with a forced smile that did not reach his eyes.
No matter how long he had been waiting for all of this to happen, it could not distract him from the pain of learning that Taran had been killed. He took a deep breath and tried, for her sake, to sound calm despite the grief that was crushing his chest.
“The night ya escaped, I was given a vision of everything tha ya experienced as it happened,” Drostan explained. “I was terrified for ya. I tried so very hard to reach ya, but I was across the country at the time. I had your city crawling with faoil in search of ya inside an hour. But apparently, tha was all the time ya needed to escape the grips of your captors. Our men searched for ya non-stop, but ya are nah easily found when ya put your mind to hiding.
“When I arrived in Philadelphia and met with the local pack leaders, Elijah came to me. He was nah s’posed to be part of the meeting being held, but overheard me saying the name Skye and waited for a chance to speak to me. He told me of the young girl tha he had been trying to find for so many years. I knew it was the same person. I had him give me every bit of information he could aboot ya. It proved invaluable in tracking ya down. I found tha your brothers had been changed. I had local packs in the cities where they were residing keep an eye on their movements. However, it was a few years before I could find any trace of where ya might be.
“When Marcus’ coven fell, I knew ya were back. We set up heavy surveillance on Gavin and Adrian’s covens and could do nothing more than wait for your next move. When ya took out Gavin, we were nah adequately prepared for the swiftness of your attack,” he said, shaking his head at the memory. “Ya had come and gone faster than we would have imagined possible. Tha failure on our part left us with one last chance to reach ya.
“We set up a tight watch on Adrian’s club and had the pups of our Miami pack with skills of a... legally questionable nature... monitor all inbound flights. They ran background checks in search of false identities used by any woman travelling alone. Still, ya barely gave us enough time to act, waited till the last possible second to purchase your ticket. Once we’d caught the inconsistencies of the alias ya were using, we had li’l more than an hour to prepare.
“As we moved in during daylight hours, we noted an unusual amount of activity amidst the lickers of the coven. We captured three and interrogated them as to what they were in such a frenzy aboot. All three verified the order Brandubh had handed down for ya to be turned. It was then a race between us and the fògaraich to reach ya first. I set my entire pack to the task of intercepting an inbound force of them and entered tha club alone, waiting for ya to arrive. It did nah take long – ya seemed to have come straight from the airport,” he commented and she gave him a forced smile and nod. “And when ya fought, I could sense it in ya – the wolf in your very blood. Unfortunately, it became obvious tha ya were nah in a state to be spoken with rationally. Had I tried to tell ya any of this, ya would have jammed a stake in my chest thinking me a fògarach and been out the door, right into their hands again. I had to do what was necessary to prevent tha at all costs. Of course, I did nah expect your friend to unload enough ammunition into me to stock an army. I had no choice but to retreat... Seeing the way the Ashers were caring for ya, I knew ya were in good hands. When I healed enough to come searching for ya, I discovered where they had brought ya. I was beyond relieved, to say the very least.”
Skye stood in silence for a long moment, letting it all sink in. All of the things that had not made sense to her before, all of the things that Taran had promised would be explained...
“So, Taran was right... Then again, Taran was always right,” she whispered with a heartbroken smile and bit her bottom lip as her eyes filled with tears. “He told me that you wouldn’t have done it unless there was no other way. He said that there had to be more to it than what he was seeing. God, I wish I’d...”
Her voice broke as her mind filled in that blank. She wished she had listened to him. She wished she had more time with him. She wished she could have told him right from the start that she was in love with him. She wished she had been able to save him. She wished she could have been better for him. She wished her difficult, hard-headed nature had not spurred her to search for Miko alone and get herself kidnapped.
She drew a labored breath at that memory of crawling out of that bed, leaving Taran’s side as he slept.
She had left him. Now, he had left her.
“I am... so sorry... for your loss, my sister,” Drostan choked out and rested a hand on her shoulder. He fought desperately to keep his tears at bay when she gripped it tightly, pressing her cheek to it.
She closed her eyes and muffled a sob as she accepted his offering of comfort.
“It’s not just mine, brother,” she finally managed to whisper with trembling lips. “The loss belongs to all of us.”
Ciaran, Latharn, Drostan, and Cathal all stood in pained silence, each struggling with their own anguish. Taran had been their heart, their strength, their friend and brother. There was no joy to be found in this moment. No relief that 4,000 years of waiting had at last come to an end. There was only sorrow for the one that had not reached the finish line with them.
Skye turned away, unable to bear their expressions of grief, hoping to avoid having an all-out breakdown...
But she found familiar, golden eyes gazing down at her in solemn understanding of her heartache.
Faolan drew her to his chest and she lost it.
She buried her face against his white furs and sobbed uncontrollably. She hid away from the world beneath his chin. Nothing could harm her there. All of her sorrow could be let loose without fear of repercussions. It reminded her of the fee
ling of safety that she found in Taran’s embrace – which made the pain of the loss even worse somehow.
Faolan was massive and muscular, an impossibly powerful force holding her protectively in his arms. He was her father, every bit as much as the man that had sired her – possibly more so. For 4,000 years, he had been the desperately missed father of the wolf that she was now joined with. She could feel the deep connection that she shared with this creature, knew in her heart that he was her kin.
“I want him back. It’s not fair, Daddy,” she sobbed mindlessly as she gripped his shoulders and hid her face deeper against the furs. Her instincts clearly gave him the name that had just fallen from her lips. She was too far gone to prevent herself from voicing it. “I lost everything. They already took everything from me. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Please... not Taran... please?”
Faolan lifted her off of her feet and cradled her in his arms as she bawled hysterically.
“Shh... shh, my beautiful child,” he soothed as he wept openly at the level of anguish that she was experiencing.
His eyes wandered to Sorcha, his beloved Sorcha whom he had waited an eternity to speak with once more. But he found that no words were needed in that moment to convey his wishes, or to find that hers were the same.
Sorcha directed his gaze to the group of faoil that were carrying Taran’s body.
They halted their approach several yards away, too fearful of her to continue without direction.
“Bring him and follow us,” Sorcha called as she rested her hand on Faolan’s shoulder. “The rest of ya, remain here. We will return shortly.”
Slowly, Sorcha’s eyes wandered to Ciaran. She gazed at him lovingly, smiling to herself at a thought she did not share.
Ciaran stood up a little straighter, shifting nervously under the gaze of the goddess that had created their kind. He watched in absolute bafflement as she inclined her head to him graciously before leading Faolan away.
49: A Nobler Person...
Skye sat in stunned silence with Faolan rubbing her back and kissing her forehead.
Sorcha had just finished answering a round of questioning.
It had resulted in some wholly startling revelations and Skye was still struggling to let it all sink in. Things were a great deal more complicated than she could have ever imagined.
As she sat on the rock beside Faolan, her eyes wandered back and forth between the glowing form of Sorcha and the body of her beloved and broken mate.
Sorcha had offered to heal Skye’s wounds, to ease her pain from the injuries that she had sustained in the crash and her brief battle with the fògaraich. Skye had adamantly refused. She had left Taran to die. In her mind, the last thing she deserved was to have her suffering alleviated. If anything, she should have been out there with the others in that moment, fighting to the death against the creatures that had taken Taran from her. Unfortunately, the glowing goddess did not seem to want her to go anywhere.
“And Taran,” Sorcha continued, crouching down beside him before looking up at Skye. “Ya love him deeply, as well?”
“He was my heart.” Skye managed in a strained voice. It was inconceivably painful to speak about him in the past-tense. “Ciaran is my friend, lover, confidant, and equal. He knows my soul as I know his... but Taran was a different kind of love. To the woman and wolf in me, he was my mate.”
Sorcha nodded as she studied him.
“Such fragile things, these bodies. Even with all the power tha I have bestowed upon them, they still can be broken,” she mused as she ran a hand over the caked blood on his chest. “I always knew he was special, tha he was important,” she said with a smile. “I could wish no better mate for ya. His loyalty was always so strong. And such a gentle heart for such a large man. He is quite stunning,” she said, tilting her head to the side and tracing her fingertips over his cheek.
“Yeah... he was,” Skye corrected bitterly and cleared her throat, looking down as she fought back emotions. “Listen, I know you can’t do anything for him. Faolan told me that bringing people back from the dead isn’t within your power, but I wanted to make sure he is given his rightful place with –”
A flash of white light stopped her mid-sentence.
To her horror, when she looked up, she found that his body was gone.
“Come now, is tha what he said?” Sorcha asked as she slowly stood and smiled over at Faolan.
Skye jumped to her feet in panic.
“Where did you send him?” She asked, praying that she had not just spelled him into a grave. She wanted to kiss him one last time, to clean the blood from him and at least give him a proper funeral. She had never been to one for someone she loved – had obviously missed her parents’.
“Ya did nah answer my question,” Sorcha reminded with a smirk.
Skye arched a brow and scowled.
“I’m sorry – I was a little distracted by you making my mate vanish!” She fired back angrily.
Sorcha simply took a seat on the rock beside Faolan and kept silent, forcing Skye to recall what question she was referring to.
“Yeah,” Skye finally answered. “He said that the rich guy who helped steal Sitheag asked you to bring his wife back, but you couldn’t do it because you can’t bring people back from the dead.”
“Ah, my child, but did he really say ‘bring people back from the dead’?” Sorcha asked incredulously.
“Yes!” Skye snapped in annoyance.
Sorcha tilted her head to the side as her smile widened.
“You’re sure it wasn’t ‘reverse mortal deaths’?”
Skye stared at her in surprise for several seconds before rushing over to her.
“You mean you can –? Since Taran wasn’t –? You can bring him back? You can fix him? Where is he? Did you do it already?” She asked frantically.
“See for yourself,” Sorcha said, pointing to a hillside in the distance.
Skye spun toward it, holding her breath and waiting, searching for even the slightest hint of motion. A moment later, she saw what Sorcha was trying to show her. She could not help the frown of disappointment that came to her lips.
Bathed in the white light of Sorcha’s magic, a wolf – not a man, not a faol – was approaching.
Skye shook her head, closing her eyes and laughing bitterly as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Right, she thought resentfully, what was I expecting? This must be how the fallen ancients are honored, by spending their days as wolves – likely the same as the ones in the castle.
She turned away from the animal, looking over at Sorcha in disgust.
“Thanks a bunch... for putting him in dog form for me. I’m sure that would make a nobler person really fucking happy,” she said coldly before turning to stalk away.
Suddenly, she was awfully eager to go kill a few hundred fògaraich.
“Am I to understand tha this does nah please ya?” Sorcha called after her, smiling knowingly as she leaned back against Faolan.
Skye stopped and glared over her shoulder at her. She decided to vent her frustration, if for no other reason than to get the woman to stop looking so damnably happy about something so disappointing. She charged toward her furiously, her temper flaring as she spoke.
“All right, I realize that I am technically more than half wolf now – between what was already in my blood and the bite of a faol – but screwing a dog still classifies as bestiality in my book!” She snarled. “Now I’m sure the other faoil probably think an afterlife as a wolf is just fucking peachy, but he’s not doing me a damned bit of good on all fours in that form. I wanted my mate back, I wanted the man that I love back... not a fuzzy friend to bring me my slippers!”
Her fingernails were digging into her palms. Her vision was red as she wondered whether Sorcha would forgive her for at least a few punches to her smiling face.
“Oh? But I think I could manage fetching your slippers for ya.”
Skye’s heart stopped.
She froze in p
lace, her eyes going wide at the sound of the familiar Scottish voice behind her. The smirks on Faolan and Sorcha’s faces made her stomach tie itself in knots.
“Please... oh please, please, please...” she whispered desperately, closing her eyes and begging for it to be true before turning to face him.
“Hello, wee one,” Taran whispered with tearful eyes.
Her knees buckled beneath her.
All she could do was collapse as he rushed to her and drew her into his arms.
She could not form words, just cried and clung to him for several moments as he held her close and rocked her.
“I know, it’s all right now, my love,” he soothed as he kissed her hair. “Shh, it’s all right.”
“You were gone... you were really gone !” She sobbed.
“But I’m nah anymore. D’ya feel me here? Flesh and blood and warmth, right?” He asked and she nodded against his chest.
“I thought you left me like –” she broke off, but he filled in the blanks.
Like her family.
“I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life missing you and mourning for you and blaming myself. Wishing I’d done something differently that could have kept you alive. Do you have any idea how shitty immortality was looking with that on the itinerary?” She whined.
“I can only imagine,” he told her with a chuckle. “But I’m here with ya, wee one – and I’ll ne’er leave ya again,” he whispered as he held her out at arm’s length. His brow creased with concern when he focused on her. “What’s happened to ya? Where did all these wounds come from?” He demanded fearfully and struggled to prevent her from hugging him long enough to get a better look at her injuries.
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters,” she insisted with a sniffle. “You’re alive, the rest will heal. I’m so sorry, Taran,” she said as she looked up into his eyes and fought back a sob. “I shouldn’t have gone off by myself like that. I should have told you that I loved you right from the start. I screwed up so bad,” she whimpered.
Taran shook his head and kissed her deeply.
Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel Page 68