The Sceptre of Power [The Peacekeeper Journals Book 3]

by CJ England

  "Please,” she begged, hating herself for it, but wanting to stay more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. “I can't promise I'll be perfect, but I swear to you, I'll try."

  There was another pregnant pause, before Danolas cleared his throat. “I guess that T-shirt you're wearing is right."

  She blinked and looked down at her chest. She'd chosen a pink one with the words, Drama Queen on it. “What?” Then her eyes narrowed. “Now just a minute—"

  Danolas chuckled and helped himself to some bread and meat. “Brianna. I didn't call Aebh. I have no intention of sending you anywhere. As we said in the car, you are one of us now. We don't just send troublesome women away because it's easier. But I do accept your apology and your promise to hold your tongue in the future."

  "You let me go on like that?” Her resolve to keep her temper disappeared. “Why you—"

  "Uh, uh, uh.” He shook his sandwich at her. “You promised."

  "I could hate you,” she said through gritted teeth, as she clenched her fists impotently.

  "You apologize as ardently as you rage,” he continued. The other Chosen nodded and began eating. “I enjoyed it, but I didn't do it to embarrass you.” He chewed a bite and his azure eyes met hers. “You often think the worst of me. I wonder why."

  Brianna blew out her breath and her cheeks pinkened. “You make it easy sometimes."

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps I do. But if we are to work together, we need to keep the personal issues to ourselves."

  She tossed her head and raised an eyebrow. “Me? Me, I've got a sunny personality."

  Danolas snorted in disbelief and passed her some cut up jalapeno peppers. “Here ... these suit your temper just fine."

  * * * *

  "Now that we are all full, perhaps we can talk about why an evil spirit wants to kill you.” Koran smiled and nibbled on one of his sister's favorites ... a strawberry. “Do you think it followed you here from Ireland? And why?"

  Brianna frowned. She'd known the time would come, but she wasn't sure what exactly to tell them. It all seemed so far-fetched. “I'm not sure. The Fachan doesn't stay in Ireland, but it originates from there. It can do its evil wherever there are tourists. And that ... is all over the world."

  Benjamin thought of the killings of sightseers the news reported on. He wondered how many of those were actually killed by this vicious beast. “So this thing could've been here before you arrived? It didn't come with you?"

  She snorted. “Well ... I didn't have it in me suitcase, if that's what you mean."

  "Temper, Irish,” Lucas said mildly.

  She sighed, then flashed an apologetic smile at Benjamin. “I don't know. I wish I could tell you more."

  "You said in the forest you didn't know why the banshee would protect you, but I think we all know now the ‘ol washer-woman came to warn Brianna, not to hurt her.” Danolas sat back in his chair and perused her thoughtfully.

  "Couldn't prove it by me,” Lucas growled.

  "Anyway...” The witch looked pointedly at the wolfman, before turning back to Brianna. “Can you think of anything? Anything at all?"

  Restlessly, Brianna got to her feet and paced over to the fireplace. She stared down into the flames for a long moment. “I didn't want to come to America at first. There were so many things to do in Ireland and Aebh ... she may be immortal, but she's gettin’ along in years."

  "How can that be?” questioned Patrick. “I thought y'all stayed the same age once you hit adulthood."

  "We do.” Danolas looked at the shade. “Unless, you have used your magick in such a way as to drain away your life force."

  "Like Kira did?” Benjamin asked. “When she used it to make that stupid wall inside of her?"

  The witch nodded seriously. “Yes. It is why I was so concerned. She can never get back what she lost, though with Kira, because of the joinings, our life forces helped to prevent any major drain.” Danolas looked back at Brianna. “But when Aebh was a great deal younger, she was compelled to use her magick in a way that all but drained her life force away. She ages ... albeit much slower than a human, but her physical body will eventually give way."

  "What will happen to her?” Koran shook his head in awe. “If her body sloughs away, where will her immortal spirit go?"

  Brianna shook her head and tears glinted. “No one knows. There is no precedent for it. If an immortal dies, they go beyond the veil, but Aebh wouldn't be dead, so where she would go is unknown."

  "The Worldwide Witch's Society has been working for years on a solution.” Danolas looked disgusted. “We have yet to find one."

  "So you didn't want to come here because you were afraid to leave Aebh?” Lucas tried to get the conversation back on track.

  "That was one of the reasons.” A quick glance was shot at the handsome witch sitting at the head of the table. “There ... were others.” She tossed her head; a gesture they were coming to see meant she was battling temper, or nerves. “But she convinced me to come. She told me something I didn't understand."

  "What did she say?” Patrick asked.

  She looked at them all, her face tight with a worry she couldn't quite hide. “She said it would be safer for me."

  Danolas shot to his feet. “Safer for you? She knew you were in danger?"

  Brianna bit her lip. “I don't know. You know how secretive she can be sometimes. She just said it would be better for me to be with you.” The young witch blushed. “I mean ... this company."

  "So you weren't just sent to help us fight the war, but to be protected from something.” Lucas got up as well and came over to her. “Interesting."

  Her brow furrowed as she thought. “While I may be the First Acolyte, I'm not an important witch. I can't think of any reason I'd need protection."

  "Perhaps it is about you being the strongest of your kind,” Danolas mused. “At least in Ireland."

  Brianna's chin went up. “I'll take you on anytime, boy-o. You just name the place."

  "Oh, Christ,” Lucas complained as the witches glared at each other. “You two give it a rest, will you? You both make my skin hum with the power you put off. Who gives a damn who's stronger? Unless it can answer the question. Think, Irish, why does someone or something want to kill you?"

  They both stared at Lucas, then back at each other. Sighing, Brianna plopped down in one of the big comfortable chairs. “I honestly don't know."

  "If not you, then maybe your family. Do you have some dark secret y'all haven't told us about?” Patrick floated over and perched on the arm of Brianna's chair. “I know the past has a way of catching up with us."

  She nodded her thanks when Koran brought her the unfinished beer she'd left at the table. Sipping it, she thought quickly. “No ... no skeletons in my family's closet. In fact, one of my ancestors is a hero. Saved Ireland, and quite possibly the world."

  "I don't recall hearing about any Muldoon as a hero,” Danolas scoffed lightly.

  Her eyes flashed. “That's because you aren't a Muldoon, High Priest. ‘Tis a common enough tale back home.” She tossed her head. “Have you ever heard of Daegal the Martyr, or Labraic of Fermanagh?"

  Danolas’ intelligent face tightened. “Of course I have. Every witch knows those names.” He turned to his brothers. “Labraic was one of the worst demons ever to inhabit the earth. It's said he was the one who brought into being the terrible trials forced on witches back in the middle ages. He had thousands killed to further his own ends. Witches, druids, learned ... any that could see through the human guise he'd adopted. He was an evil creature that corrupted everything he touched."

  "It is taught,” said Brianna, “that Labraic was defeated by a young witch by the name of Cyric O'Maoilduan. A very unlikely hero, he was. He sort of fell into the job.” She smiled. “You see it was Cyric's master, an immortal witch by the name of Daegal who was supposed to kill the demon. But Labraic found out about the plan and had Daegal killed."

  "Yes,” Danolas agreed, enjoying the old tal
e. Hearing Brianna's lyrical voice reminded him of all the nights he'd spent sitting at Aebh's feet, listening to the same exciting stories. “All would have been lost, but the acolyte found the mysterious weapon his master was going to use. It had been crafted for the sole purpose of destroying the demon ... sending him beyond the boundaries of Hell, for the rest of eternity."

  "What weapon was it?” Koran asked. There was a pause, and then Brianna's answer came soft and low.

  "The Sceptre of Power."

  The name reverberated around the room and the Chosen all had the sudden feeling they were standing on the edge of something vitally important. Breathlessly, they waited, knowing from experience, the truth would be revealed if they were patient.

  Brianna cleared her throat nervously, not used to the strength of magick she felt in the room. Strong she may be, but the power in these five men wasn't something she could really understand. She was just glad she was on their side. “'Tis said it was most beautiful, wrought from pure gold and strengthened with silver twining all around it. It measured three feet in length, with a crown of five gemstones symbolizing the first five families of Ireland. These graced the outer crown and surrounded the single stone of power in the center."

  She looked at Danolas. “No one knows exactly what kind of stone it was. That detail is shrouded in mystery."

  "As is what happened to it,” the High Priest added. “Legend states once Daegal was killed, brave Cyric took up the Sceptre and challenged the demon. Even though he didn't have the power to destroy the evil one as his master would have done, Cyric was able to use the weapon to send Labraic back to Hell. He became a hero that day, but afterwards, his life was forfeit. The demon's followers swore to avenge their master. They followed him into the Cuilcagh Mountains, but neither Cyric O'Maoilduan nor the Sceptre were ever seen again."

  There was a moment of silence, as if all were thinking of the young hero. Then Brianna sighed. “Of course, that's only half the tale."

  Danolas blinked. “I beg your pardon."

  Brianna's eyes danced in amusement. “Don't you just love it when he says that? Makes me all tingly."

  The Chosen chuckled, but Danolas only stared at Brianna. “You want to explain yourself? The story I shared is the only one there is."

  "Maybe, if you're not a Muldoon.” She cocked her head at him. “Now, do you want me to tell you the rest of the story, or not?"

  "I want to hear it,” Patrick urged at her elbow. “Forget Danolas. Tell me."

  "And me."

  "And me."

  Lucas and Benjamin spoke together, and then grinned at each other. Danolas cleared his throat pointedly. “We are waiting."

  "Well,” Brianna settled down comfortably, happy to have something to share Danolas didn't know about. Evened the odds a bit, it did. “My family tells the tale of what happened to young Cyric. He was a strong witch, but not an immortal. When he used the Sceptre, it took a great deal out of him. He hadn't built the weapon, didn't really know how to work the thing, so when he used magick to work the Sceptre ... he tapped it from inside himself.” She turned to Danolas. “Its original design was to destroy the demon, but because Cyric was young and inexperienced, he was only able to banish the monster.

  "I have never heard that part.” Danolas’ voice was skeptical. “How do you know all that?"

  "I'm getting to it,” Brianna said testily. “Give me time to tell the tale.” She turned away pointedly and looked at the other Chosen. “Cyric did what his poor master could not, and then escaped into the surrounding hills. He was chased by two of Labraic's men; both possessed of evil themselves, with a devil dog who had teeth as big as a wolf's.” She glanced at Lucas. “No offense."

  The big man grinned at her. “None taken."

  "They tracked him a day and a night, staying hard on his heels, but Cyric knew he couldn't let them get their greedy mitts on the Sceptre. He tried to lose them by going into a cave, but even then, they followed him.” Her eyes darkened. “They fought down there ... in the bowels of the earth. In the inky blackness and confusion, Cyric was sorely wounded, but using the weapon again, he dispatched the two men and the hound to the pits of Hell.” She sighed again.

  "Unfortunately, in the battle, the Sceptre was lost. Too weakened by loss of blood to hold onto it, the Sceptre slipped from his grasp and was swallowed in darkness. Cyric came close to dying himself, but somehow, he was able to drag himself out of the cave. He was found and taken home, where he lived to tell about his adventures."

  "And you know this ... how?” Danolas didn't bother to hide his disbelief this time.

  "Isn't it obvious?” Brianna lifted her chin proudly. “I'm a Muldoon aren't I? Cyric O'Maoilduan was my ancestor."

  There was a long silence, before Patrick cleared his throat. “Your ancestor?"

  "Aye.” She looked back at the High Priest. “Have you forgotten what the ancient form of Muldoon is?"

  Light dawned in Danolas’ sapphire eyes. “O'Maoilduan. In the early years Muldoons were known as O'Maoilduan."

  "So your great-great—whatever the number of greats—granddaddy, is a famous demon slayer?” Lucas summarized. “And he used this special weapon to kill this Labraic?"

  "Aye. We are very proud of him. The tale has been told to all the Muldoons. We might not be of pure lineage, but we've done ourselves proud as a family."

  "Did Aebh know of this?"

  Brianna nodded. “I told her just last spring. We'd been giving a history lesson to some younglings and I finally broke down and shared the story."

  "The Sceptre of Power is a valuable weapon,” Koran murmured. “It would be of great help to us."

  "The problem with that,” Brianna bit her lip, “no one knows where it is. Cyric never told anyone in the family where he'd lost it. He'd only say it was safe. And it would be found at the proper time."

  The faerie huffed in disappointment. “That is too bad."

  "Yes, but if the enemy thinks y'all might know where it is—"

  Brianna shook her head, interrupting Patrick's wishful thinking. “I've never pretended to know anything,” she explained. “It did happen, but it's a harmless tale for winter evenings around a fire with family. ‘Tis no value for either side."

  "Well, then.” The shade put his arm around her. “I guess we'll have to figure out another reason why someone wants you dead."

  Danolas gave a mocking sigh. “I'll bet the list is endless."

  "He's kidding,” Lucas said quickly, as he saw Brianna's eyes fire up again. “But it might not hurt to make a list of anyone you've pissed off in the last couple years."

  Brianna smiled sweetly at the High Priest. “Shall I put you at the top of the list?"

  * * * *

  For the next three weeks, Brianna enjoyed the attentions of the Chosen. Unused to being so well looked after; it took a while for her to accept it was just their way. No ulterior motives, other than maybe protecting her from whatever wanted to do her harm, but she quickly realized being the only female in a group of males had its advantages and disadvantages.

  She wasn't sure she liked the way they assumed she needed protection. She was a strong, brave witch in her own right. But again, after a while, she understood they didn't mean anything by it. They would have treated Kira the same way and she was more powerful than anyone Brianna had ever met.

  The thought they cared about her the same way as the Peacekeeper warmed the young witch's lonely heart. She decided to let them, and threw herself with her usual abandon into the role of new friend and companion. As she got to know them, she stopped seeing them only as The Chosen, but as individual men with different personalities, likes and dislikes. She discovered from the blending of their magicks, each had been given a portion of the other's powers and it showed in their abilities. Patrick loved to tease Lucas with his new ability to turn into a wolf, and Benjamin enjoyed scaring Koran by popping and out like a shade. Each was so different ... so interesting in their own way, she began to think of them a
s friends, not just as men with whom she was to work with to fight a war.

  For now, things were quiet. There were no more attacks, and no one on either side of the ocean had heard anything more from the banshee. While they didn't lower their guard completely, she was overjoyed when they agreed to go with her to play tourist.

  Koran took her to see the art exhibits in town, starting with the Fine Art Museum and then the Modern Art Museum. They toured to all the area galleries to see the local artists and their work. She found the Faerie Prince to be a great escort, full of tidbits of information about many of the artists. He'd lived so long—he was close to a millennia old—and he'd seen and sometimes even met some of the old masters. One of his favorites was a painter by the name of Jean-Marc Beauchamp who had died in the late 1800s. Koran showed her Beauchamp's Impressionist art as well as that of one of the artist's descendants, Givré Beauchamp, whose style was so similar it was uncanny.

  She dragged Patrick out to go dancing with her. Since he could become corporeal at will—another gift from Kira—they had a wonderful time going from club to club, and trying all the newest dance steps. They might start at a Jazz club, but end up at a Grunge bar, and they both enjoyed every minute of it. Brianna loved the shade's soft-spoken mannerisms and delightful sense of humor.

  Benjamin turned out to be the one who took her to see Fisherman's Wharf and Pier 39. They gawked at all the street musicians, watched the sea lions, and had fresh shrimp and sourdough bread on the wharf. She'd invited the other Chosen to come along, but when she'd mentioned shopping for some things for The Loft, all of them had groaned and disappeared. It was left for Benjamin to take her along and explain the story of Kira and her wild shopping trips. His powerful good looks and strength of character made all the women turn and stare, and shallow as it may seem, Brianna loved being on his arm.

  Having never seen American football before, Lucas wangled tickets and took Brianna to see one of the San Francisco 49er games. They sat on the fifty-yard line and he bought her hot dogs and popcorn, and the required Cracker Jacks. She asked a thousand questions, screamed and shouted along with the rest of the crowd, even though she didn't understand half of what was going on. Of all the Chosen, Lucas was the one she was closest to. They were so much alike, she didn't feel the need to explain herself or try to pretend she was something different. Unlike ... some people.