Quest of a Warrior (Legends of the Fenian Warriors Book 1)

by Mary Morgan

  “And Bradon Finnegan? You’re the one in the painting?”

  “Yes,” he answered softly, stroking a hand down her back. “Bradon witnessed a skirmish between another of my Fenian brothers and a human. He grew concerned, deeming the warrior was in grave danger and dashed forward. Bradon put himself in front of the blade not realizing the Fae would have swiftly deflected the blow. Stunned by the brave actions of Finnegan, the warrior summoned a Fae healer to mend the man’s wounds, though they were not life threatening. From that very day, your ancestor was revered. He kept his secret—a vow he pledged before all three warriors, myself included.”

  Ivy yawned. “What were their names?”

  “Liam MacGregor and my mentor, Aidan Kerrigan. We allowed him to paint the landscapes of our world by sharing stories with him. He had a magnificent talent—one I see in you.”

  She snuggled closer. “Tell me more of your home. Your world beneath ours.”

  Ivy closed her eyes when he spoke of the beauty of his home. When he spoke about being away for so long, his voice took on a tone of sorrow. Therefore, Ivy held off with any questions. In time, she believed he would share everything, including painful memories.

  This was a time of beginnings.

  Rubbing her eyes with one hand, she draped the other over Conn’s chest—content and relaxed.

  “Sleep,” he encouraged.

  “Not tired. Hungry.”

  “No food in the apartment. We can go out.”

  Ivy bolted up straight. “Let me cook for you.”

  Conn laughed. “What are you suggesting?”

  She scooted onto her knees. “I spotted a market across the street. It had all these different kinds of squashes. I make a fantastic Spaghetti Alfredo Squash with Peas. And I have a special dessert that I know you will like, too.”

  Conn leaped off the bed and grabbed his jeans. “Tell me what you need.”

  “No.” Ivy scrambled off the bed and rushed to his side. “Let me go get everything. I want it to be a surprise.”

  He eyed her skeptically. “Afraid I’ll get the wrong item?”

  She laughed out loud. “Yep.” Picking up her discarded clothes, she dashed into the bathroom. Hastily getting dressed, she stole a glance at herself in the mirror before leaving.

  Conn stood there holding out her coat. Helping her put it on, he then wrapped her purse over her shoulder and walked her to the door. “Do not tarry too long.”

  Ivy stood on her tiptoes and kissed him thoroughly. “Missing you already.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “When a heart bleeds red, all the Fae weep.”

  ~Chronicles of the Fae

  Smiling, Ivy hastened across the street to the market. Dusk was settling over the city, and she spotted the first star winking down at her. Had she really spent all day in Conn’s arms? Time slipped away as they talked, laughed, and made love. She’d never known such joy.

  Happiness filled her as she picked up a small basket to fetch the items she would need for their meal. Looking over the squashes, she found one suitable and wandered inside the store. She gravitated to another area of produce and found shallots and fresh thyme. Moving along the narrow aisle, Ivy picked through a selection of cheeses and selected grated Parmesan. Next on her list, heavy cream and frozen peas—praying they would have them in stock. Quickly locating them, she made her way to the selection of ice cream.

  “Bet you’ve never had a root beer float, Conn MacRoich.”

  Finding the rest of her items, Ivy’s steps quickened to the register. Tapping her foot, she tried to be patient, since her only thought was returning once again into Conn’s arms. Her lover. Her friend. Her Fenian Fae Warrior.

  Why is it when you’re in a hurry, the clerks always want to chat with the customers? Get moving!

  Whistling a tune, instead of yelling at the clerk and customer, she tossed in some dark chocolate from one of the nearby baskets.

  Five long, grueling minutes passed and finally they were done.

  Ivy smiled and handed the woman her basket.

  “A fine day. What are you fixing?” asked the clerk, slowly putting her items into a bag.

  Her smile faded a bit. “A special meal. Here, let me help you. My boyfriend is starving.”

  The woman laughed. “A hearty appetite is good in a man. Enjoy your meal.”

  Handing the clerk her money, Ivy snatched up the bag. “Thanks. Have a great evening.”

  Glancing both ways, Ivy darted back toward the apartment. Her steps slowed as she approached the building. A tremor of unease crept down her spine. Keeping her nerves steady, she nodded to the man standing off to the side.

  “Good evening, Ivy Kathleen,” greeted Mike Banister.

  The smile on his face never made it to his eyes. “Hello, Mike.” Must get inside to Conn.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, blocking her path to the door.

  Ivy shook her head. “Nope. I’m good.” She waited for him to move.

  He leaned near. “Wrong answer.”

  Before she had a chance to scream, Mike had a hand over mouth, knocking the groceries from her arms. He shoved a knife into her side. “One word from those lovely lips, and I’ll carve a slice from your body and deliver it to your boyfriend.”

  Ivy trembled, but nodded.

  Mike removed his hand from her mouth and yanked her around the side of the building into an alleyway. His fingers dug sharply into her arm.

  “This could have been solved easily, if your uncle had not interfered with our plans,” he hissed, dragging her farther away from civilization.

  Her fear turned to anger. “You were the one. You killed him. For what?”

  “He interfered with my plans.”

  Her eyes grew wide with fear when she saw his car, the trunk already open. It would be over for her the moment he tossed her inside. Think, think, think!

  “What do you want, Mike? Let’s just settle this now.”

  His eyes raked over her body. “You’re willing to barter?” His laughter was sinister. “First, I want the treasure. Second, I’ll take you, since you’re obviously screwing the man in the building.”

  She stumbled forward. “I don’t know anything about a treasure. And I’d rather die than have you touch me.”

  The man shrugged. “Not really your choice, now is it?” Mike pointed to her purse. “I bet you have the keys inside there.”

  Ivy seethed with fury. “You’re an ass. They’re nothing. Go back and tell your boss they’re only junk. One is the original key to my cottage.”

  His expression darkened, and Mike leveled the blade against the side of her neck. “Boss? Do you want to hear how Eric Dunstan died? Do you want me to show you what parts I carved from the man?”

  Ivy felt the trickle of blood seep down her skin, unable to move. “Why?”

  “Because he was weak. Only wanted your land. He didn’t believe in the treasure either.” He snarled. “I was the one who told Eric that the ruins belonged to you. Yet, he didn’t think they would amount to anything and brushed aside my ideas. In the end, he fired me, and I had to kill him.” He lowered the blade. “The treasure will be mine.”

  You’re an insane bastard! “The keys are in my purse. Take them.”

  He leaned nearer, the stench of his breath choking Ivy. “No, I can’t let you go now. I’ve just confessed. Don’t want you scurrying off to the Garda.”

  Ivy swallowed the bile in her throat. “I won’t tell a soul.”

  His lips twisted in a cynical smile. “Liar.”

  Ivy knew her time of negotiating was at an end. Regardless of the blade, Ivy clawed at his face, pushing his body away from hers and let out a scream.

  “You bitch!”

  He smacked her hard across the face, and she fell backward against the stone wall. When he reached for her arm, she kicked and continued to scream. Yet, the man was far stronger. Lifting her up, Mike dumped her into the trunk and slammed the hood.

  Pain slashed t
hrough her body and lights danced before her eyes. Glancing down, her hands encountered cold steel protruding from her side. Somehow the bastard had impaled her against something in the trunk. Fighting the dark wave of abyss, Ivy continued to scream for help. But the effort cost her dearly as blood spurted forth.

  The car lurched forward, and the icy claw of panic took hold of her. Hope faded the moment Mike shoved her into his vehicle, and her nightmare of dying without once again seeing the man she loved consumed her.

  “Conn, please hear me. I’m hurt. I need…” She sucked in a huge breath and let it out slowly. Her vision blurred, cold sweat trickling across her brow. In one last desperate attempt, Ivy blurted out her heart to another. “Hear my plea Fae. He is…my…heart.”

  Dizziness swamped Ivy as the void of darkness enveloped her.

  Love you always…

  ****

  Conn dropped the bottle of wine as Ivy’s screams pierced through to his mind and soul.

  Rushing to the window, he saw the groceries flung out into the street. With a great roar, he tore downstairs and yanked the door open. Concentrating, he opened his Fae senses and looked in both directions. Nothing to his left, but when he glanced to the right, Conn could see the fading glow of lights from a car. His fists clenched with fury.

  With time now his enemy, he tried to control the burning rage as he sprinted back into his apartment. Pulling his boots on, he ran inside his den and pulled forth his dirk and keys. Swiftly leaving his place, he was on his motorcycle in minutes.

  Only two people could have taken Ivy. Eric Dunstan or Mike Banister. It didn’t matter which man, for one would die. Never in all of his life had Conn wished to seek vengeance. This world was one where he kept the balance between justice—good and evil. If there was a death, it was not by his hand, unless he was forced to save those he guided. Now, the humans had taken something he treasured. Something he loved. His beloved.

  “Ivy!” he bellowed, accelerating to an unholy speed, trying to catch up with the vehicle.

  Turning the bend in the road, his anger intensified. They were heading farther away from the city and out into the country. He tried to remain focused, but his emotions were clouded with a rage he’d never experienced.

  He shook as he tried to maintain the speed of the bike. Careening around a narrow corner, the area opened and relief washed over him when he spotted several vehicles ahead. Saying a silent prayer, he sped faster along the road. Approaching one of the vehicles, he maneuvered the motorcycle alongside. Seeing an elderly man driving, he uttered a curse and drove off ahead of him.

  What if he was wrong? What if they had taken Ivy elsewhere within the city? Shit! Clear the emotions. Focus on the task. You are a Fae warrior.

  Sealing all doubt, Conn steadied the ferocity and indecisiveness of his unstable emotions. The wind slapped at his face, but he silently thanked the Gods for keeping the sky clear. As Conn steadily made his way nearer to the other car, he was unsure on what to do without placing Ivy in jeopardy. Without any plan, he had to rely on only one attack.

  Stop the vehicle.

  As if sensing his presence, the car accelerated. And so did Conn. His motorcycle was built for speed and he weaved nearer. The car swerved, almost hitting him. Conn slammed on the brakes and then sped up. Intent on slowing the vehicle proved futile as the bastard kept trying to drive Conn off the road.

  The battle raged on and Conn sped up.

  When he approached the side of the car, the man leveled a gun at him. Mike Banister, his mind screamed. Conn ducked the shot fired and slowed. Instantly the bastard put on the brakes, and Conn sharply angled his bike to avoid being hit head on.

  The action cost them both. The car lost control just as Conn skidded across the pavement and crashed through the fence, landing below the main road.

  Dazed, Conn tried to draw in a deep breath. Pain seared down his back when he stood on shaky limbs. Reaching for his dirk, he sealed off the injury within his mind. He would tend to his wounds later. Steadily making his way back to the road, Conn fought the wave of panic at finding the car on one side.

  Running over to the vehicle, he wrenched open the passenger door, but stunned to find no Ivy. His hand tightened on his dirk upon seeing Mike Banister slumped over the wheel, blood oozing from his head.

  Storming to the driver’s side, he yanked the door open and pulled the man onto the ground. “Where is she?” The man was unconscious and of no use to him.

  Scanning the car, he almost missed the item on the floor. Grabbing Ivy’s purse, he clutched it to his chest and looked around. Finding the lock to the trunk, he clicked it open and sprinted to the back.

  Blood pooled around her body, her face ashen even in the twilight. Glancing down, Conn noticed a metal shard protruding from her side. The bastard’s trunk was filled with junk, ranging from broken saws to rusty pipes and shorn off pieces of metal. Fearing the worst, he placed two fingers on her neck and let out an anguished sigh when he felt the faint pulse. It was weak, but his sprite was a fighter.

  “Stay with me, mo ghrá. Do not leave me.” He breathed the words across her face, praying they would echo within her heart.

  Taking a step back, Conn raked a hand through his hair. He had no transportation to get her swiftly to a hospital. Even if he did, he feared she would not make it in the hands of doctors. She required something more powerful, no matter the consequences. Conn no longer cared about the laws. The Fae realm was her only hope. He would gladly give his life for Ivy. Since he was unable to transport her there with magic, he knew of another way and prayed it would happen.

  Quickly kneeling, he placed his palms upon the ground and called forth a desperate plea. “Here me, my friend. Once again, I require your assistance for a woman who is injured.” Conn let the energy swell, build, and pulse outward.

  Long, torturous moments passed. Then it came on a light breeze. I am here Fenian Warrior.

  The horse snickered behind him and Conn rose. After greeting the animal, he made his way to Ivy.

  Brushing a lock of hair away from her face, he bent low. “I must act swiftly. Find a safe haven within your mind and stay there. Time will slow. Do not fight against it. I will not leave your side.”

  Conn straightened. Flexing his hands, he only had moments once he lifted Ivy away from the metal pipe. His magic would reduce her heart rate and breathing, causing the blood flow to decrease dramatically. It was the only way to transport her there.

  Calling forth the magic inside him, he breathed in deeply and in one swift move lifted Ivy into his arms. Her strangled cry almost undid him. Gently lowering her to the ground, Conn moved his hands above her body—beginning at the head and traveling down to her feet. Bringing them back over the wound, he concentrated until beads of sweat broke out on his brow. Releasing the long held breath, he cradled her into his arms. “Sleep, Ivy,” he commanded.

  Conn stood and walked over to a boulder. Standing on top, he waited until the horse approached. Carefully straddling the animal, he secured Ivy within his arm and grabbed the mane. Giving a nudge, they took off at a light gallop across the land.

  Onward they traveled through the Irish landscape—starlight, the crescent moon, and magic their only guides through the terrain. Conn held Ivy’s motionless body, focusing on the destination. He allowed no other thoughts to drift through his mind. There was no room for doubts from the actions he was destined to make on this night. His mindset was clearly on saving the woman who held his heart—his life.

  As the hours passed, their speed increased as a cold blast of air descended from the north.

  An owl hooted in the distance, signaling the first sign they were drawing near.

  When the lone wolf’s cry echoed in the night, Conn angled the horse northward.

  The cry of all birds and beasts were announcing the arrival of the Prince.

  And Conn uttered a prayer the doors would open for him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “A sacrifice not will
ingly chosen can shred its purpose.”

  ~Chronicles of the Fae

  The trees welcomed Conn in greeting as he approached. Bringing the horse near an ancient oak in the center, he dismounted carefully while still maintaining his grip on Ivy. Placing her gently on the ground, he swept his hands over her body until he felt the whisper of a heartbeat.

  Satisfied, he stood and went to the horse. “Thank you. I owe you my deepest appreciation.” The animal snorted and nudged his head against Conn’s arm. “Remain here my friend. I shall have someone tend to your needs. Until then, rest nearby.”

  Conn removed his shirt and boots and knelt on one knee before the giant tree. Placing a hand on Ivy, he held his other outward. “Open the gates from this world to my realm. I, Conn MacRoich, Fae prince have returned.”

  He gritted his teeth and waited. Stone, cold silence greeted him.

  “Open the gates from human to Fae,” he uttered with more conviction.

  But the gates refused to open for Conn.

  He brought Ivy’s limp hand to his chest. “I will not leave you.” Kissing her fingers, he released her hand.

  There was another way to open the gates to his world. Once again, he faced consequences, and he risked putting another in jeopardy. Yet, it was unavoidable and his last solution. Glancing at Ivy one last time, he closed his eyes.

  Fully kneeling on the ground, he quieted his mind—sealed the sounds of the nocturnal creatures and the elements. Conn let the magic swirl around him, weaving a single thought out for another. It traveled through the vein of the land where there were no barriers and sought its destination.

  “Abela.”

  Her gasp sliced through his mind. “What’s wrong?”

  “I require assistance.”

  She probed his thoughts.

  “Stop!” he ordered. “I am not a specimen.”

  “What have you done?” her question laced with anguish.

  “Please open the gates,” he pleaded.

  “You have a human.”

  “She is injured. Her life has been slowed. I require a healer.”

  “No,” whispered Abela. “I’m sorry, but I cannot go against my own people. If you cannot open the gates, then there is reason.”