Eternal Bond (Edanholme Book 2)

by Catherine Fitzpatrick

The Bard materialised in her apartment seconds later. Tall, slender and immaculate in Sidhe

  leathers, the complete opposite of Drusal.

  “Iscatya informs me, you have need of my services…” Violet eyes narrowed, Teague was

  suspicious of a summons from Aingeal. The female made every effort to avoid contact with

  him, unless she wished to deliver a list of requirements. His tone coldly indifferent, a small

  glimmer of hope made a mighty heart speed up.

  “I need a date….” Sapphire eyes wide, she was breathless now that Teague stood in front

  of her. It was the first time she had asked him to accompany her, for her sake, not his.

  She had blown hot and cold, too scared to give in to the cravings of a body awash with the

  desire to taste a succulent male, and terrified to let go. Any little piece of the Bard was a gift

  she wouldn’t relinquish, unless she absolutely had to.

  “What is this date you need…?” He already knew the reasoning behind an urgent summons.

  Iscatya had delighted in informing him of Aingeal’s dilemma. The Bard was not loath to play

  the role of protector, but he planned on making a wickedly contrary female work hard to

  gain his compliance.

  “It’s a term for a partner, one who attends a female at a meal, or a jaunt of pleasure.”

  Alex tried to make it sound innocuous, downplaying the role of the male, in an innocent

  foray into an uninhibited display of Caribbean dress, music and of course food.

  “It’s a holiday weekend for human kind. There’s a big festival in Leeds, one that displays the

  origins and freedom of beings who were once deemed as nothing more than slaves.

  I thought, maybe, you would appreciate the similarities to your previous life….”

  It wasn’t a downright lie. Teague and his kin had lived in servitude for an eon. Appealing

  to his curiosity served her purpose better than openly stating she had no one else to keep

  her company. Now that was sad…..

  “What does this date entail…?” He was enjoying every minute of a desperate bid to claim

  his company. Aingeal was playing with the truth. The lie was in her eyes, ones that were

  downcast as she nibbled on a luscious lip.

  “Being nice to me, I’m in a bad mood…” Enough was enough, she couldn’t keep up the

  pretence of altruistic benefactor. The Bard was no fool. Any more drivel, and she would

  have to mop the floor.

  A bad mood was not a new experience for Aingeal. Her life force was consumed by humans

  and Sidhe, to the extent Teague wondered where she found the energy to rise each day,

  to face endless demands on her time and skills.

  “What do I wear for this jaunt into the unknown…?” Teague gave in gracefully.

  “Human suit, jeans and t-shirt, the usual…” Animation sparkled in crystal blue eyes, Alex

  wanted to jump up and down in a victory dance. It would be in bad taste, so she made do

  with a radiant smile. One that wound its way around a wounded heart, girdling it with the

  gift of Aingeal’s pleasure.

  “Do we travel in the Queen’s car?” Shifting to appropriate form, a tall slender figure ate up

  energy to portray a mouth-wateringly hunky man. Bulkier, shorter, but still a vision of

  stunning masculinity.

  “Nope, a new experience for you… A train ride.” Alex wished she could shift, to dress as

  quickly as Teague. Racing to the bedroom, she shimmied out of shorts and crop top, to slip

  on a from fitting red dress. It had cost a fortune, but was well worth every penny.

  Slim shoulder straps held a tight fitting bodice, to support a generous cleavage. The skirt

  swirled around her knees, in waves of beaded chiffon. It shouted summer days, freedom to

  be who she was, emphasising the sultry beauty of peach toned skin and coal black hair.

  Wafting back to the living room in a cloud of Chanel Chance, citrus scents teased the air.

  Sucking in a breath, Teague was the one to feel underdressed for once. Aingeal was a

  vision of sparkling vibrancy, a witch in human skin. To be in her company, in attire that

  teased the libido would be penance for believing such beauty could ever be his.

  To be mated to Aingeal was the aspiration of many of the Sidhe nobles. She played no

  favourites. Today may be a step beyond the impossible for a male who had descried the

  bond of female intimacy. To have such a female as a mate would be heaven. A paradise

  leavened with the hell of tantrums. To be the one male able to tame a little tornado of

  conflicting emotions was the ultimate dream of a lonely male.

  Hand in hand they walked through a town encompassing exquisite architecture of spires

  and minarets. The ancient beauty marred by modern office buildings, and a glaringly ugly

  cinema complex. Halifax, as in many rural towns, was in a phase of renewal. The nature of

  this renewal was twofold. It brought employment in a world where too many humans strived

  to gain a foothold on the ladder of dignified living, on the other it produced monumental eye

  sores in the shape of hope. This Teague had learnt from his Queen.

  Her life, her youth, had been centred round a once prosperous industrial behemoth.

  The wool trade brought wealth to a provincial town in years past. That trade had been

  overwhelmed by foreign imports. The decline was sharp and fast, taking whole families out

  of the work force, leading to a decline in spirit and wealth. The way forward for a community

  lost to deprivation, was entertainment, cinema’s, restaurants, and a plethora of wine bars,

  ready and willing to take the hard earned wages of the young.

  “Tis a pity, that smelly vehicles and human noise encroach upon the beauty of this town. It has

  an air of stillness, a spiritual connection to the Mother.” Tall hills, covered in a blanket of trees,

  leaves turning the red gold of autumn foliage formed a stunning background to the small

  railway station they approached. Leaning over a metalwork parapet, Teague pointed out a

  multihued building tucked at the side of the station.

  “What does this place serve as…?” Alex joined him, on tip toe she peered at the scene of

  his curiosity.

  “A national children’s museum, called Eureka. It’s an educational and entertainment centre

  for the young.” She had lived with the museum for years, but had never ventured through

  the doors.

  “Can we go there…?” The Bard was intrigued by any form of education.

  “Find a kid to drag along, and yes I suppose we can.” More adult entertainment beckoned.

  She wasn’t going to be side-tracked even for Teague’s innate curiosity. She left him to

  ruminate on childish education, while she bought single tickets to Leeds. The Bard could

  transport them home, no need to waste money on return tickets.

  Alex trotted down a flight of steps to the platform, Teague a step behind her. There was

  only one platform, not a chance of getting lost. Trains passing through a provincial town

  went east and west, to link up with larger stations in a network leading north and south.

  Trains to Leeds were a regular commuter service throughout the day, the wait was short.

  Pushing a reluctant male ahead of her, Alex indicated to an empty carriage, choosing seats

  that had a table between them. It offered Teague more leg room.

  Settling in for the hour long journey, pausing at two or three stations before they reached

  their destination, she relaxed back as t
he train thundered into the first of many tunnels.

  The noise was deafening, the smell of diesel pervasive.

  “Tis not a comfortable form of transport...” The Bard moaned his displeasure as a group

  of youths entered the carriage, to settle across the table and in the seats at their back.

  Oh, oh… Alex shifted her bag to sit at her back, shoulders rammed against the rimed glass

  of a darkened window. This was one reason why she needed a date. A woman alone was

  fair game to roving gangs of itinerant street kids.

  “Well what have here boys? Aren’t you just the cutest couple?” Tattooed, pierced and

  smelling of semi legal drugs, the adolescent leaned forward to get a better look at Alex’s

  cleavage.

  “Hey man, you gonna share the bitch…?” Raucous laughter filled the carriage.

  Teague smiled, a slow reveal of gleaming white teeth in a rictus of mirth, glamour oozed

  from his skin in hints of Christmas spices.

  One after the other, the obnoxious vermin began to gag. Hands to mouths they ran off

  down the carriage. The sound of painful retching reached Alex’s ears.

  “What did you do…?” She wanted to puke too, a sympathetic response to someone else’s

  distress.

  “I merely showed them the end result of tangling with an enforcer of justice…” Cinnamon

  scents hung round him, a reminder of the differences between them.

  “You mean like, blood, guts and lots of gore…?” Hand over her mouth, Alex swallowed

  back the acid taste of nausea. Thank God Teague was on her side, she would hate to see

  him unleash the menace of the enforcers for real, especially on her.

  “Something akin to that…” The rasp of a hoarse whisper held regret that Aingeal had to

  be witness to such crass behaviour. In truth he wished to visit chaos on anything or any being

  who would dare to disrespect his angel.

  “In spite of the laid back pose, you really are a mountain of nasty…” Breathing deeply, she

  collapsed back into her seat. Having Teague as a bodyguard wasn’t such a waste of time

  after all.

  “Aye, I have been told so….” Laying his hands outstretched on the table, Teague caged his

  angel against further invasions of her privacy. The noise of pounding metal wheels on metal

  runners a counter point to his beating heart. The smell was acrid, each time the train coasted

  in to pick up more travellers, he glowered at anyone who chanced to look in their direction.

  Alex was in a bubble of protection, none could importune a female whose looks invited

  inspection. The human world was a minefield…

  In the Bards mind, he relocated a stunningly beautiful angel into his world, one where he was

  in complete control. The journey ended in a vast amphitheatre of chaos and rancid aromas.

  Bodies tumbled from metal tubes, to fight their way free of a monolith to human technology.

  The Bard was never more thankful to taste semi-clean air as they emerged onto paved streets.

  The centre of activity was in the Corn Market. Hanging onto the Bards hand, Alex wove

  through a mass of beings relishing the last bank holiday before Christmas bit into their purses,

  to reach the core of the festivities. It was a welter of vivid, if skimpy costumes, infectious

  tropical rhythms and mouth-watering food. Teague lived a dream. Vibrant music called out to

  his soul. The smells, the sights, rocked a male who had lived a sequestered life.

  Aingeal may have had an ulterior motive in requesting a date, but he was ever thankful she

  had made the offer. To see life glorified in violent colours, to see male and female dance

  together with wild abandon, fed the Bard with a feast of ideas for his own music.

  “Here, have a taste of this…” Alex placed a plastic cup of opaque orange liquid in his hand.

  Taking a sip of her own cup, she bade him try it. The drink had a smooth edge, with an

  underlying bite that coated his throat with fire.

  “Rum punch is great… Come on, I want to try jerk chicken.” Without waiting to see if the

  Bard followed, she squeezed her way between writhing bodies to find the source of food.

  “Hey pretty lady, you want I fill up your glass?” A dreadlocked male, swung a huge bottle

  of golden liquid to top up her drink.

  “Then maybe, you and I can party…” A winning smile urged her to drink.

  “I am partying man…” Tossing back half the cup, Alex smiled back. It was daylight still, she

  was safe, her date wasn’t far away. The sudden realisation that she was alone, the beaming

  male edging her away from the safety of numbers, filled her heart with dread.

  “Teague…” She screamed his name, fear made her voice shrill.

  “Hey lady, no problem, my mistake...” The dread locked man merged into the crowd.

  A muscular figure came at her back, one arm running round her waist to hold her tight to a

  broad chest. A scream died before it was born as she inhaled Christmas spices. Cold chills

  assailed her. Motor functions were no longer under her control, vision failed as the world

  dissolved into fractured sounds. Alex could barely speak, dropping the cup of rum punch she

  clung desperately to Teague’s arms, aware of being carried down a dingy alleyway.

  “Home…. I need to go home…” Slurring every syllable, she must have made some sense as

  translocation knocked her sideways. The very last thing she remembered was the Bards

  face above hers as he tucked her into bed fully clothed.

  Some sort of furry animal had crawled into her mouth and died, her head pounded with little

  jack hammer spikes of pain on eyes glued tightly shut. The bathroom called, and she didn’t

  have the energy to answer. Rolling from her nest, the skirt of her dress was a crumpled ruin

  wrapped around her waist. Grabbing for the robe hanging on the back of a chair, she

  staggered to the bathroom managing to open one eye. A shower could wait, water by the

  bucket load to wash the taste of rat steak from her tongue seemed like a great idea before

  crawling back into bed. Clinging onto the door frame on unsteady legs she made it to the

  living room. A groan left her lips….

  Teague sat at the breakfast bar juice in hand, rifling through the glossy pages of an old

  OK magazine. Perfectly groomed, violet eyes lifted to her face he smiled, a small offer of

  concern at her dishevelled appearance. Gracefully he eased to his feet to pull out a chair

  for Alex to perch on. Pouring a glass of juice, he placed it in trembling fingers before

  resuming his seat, eyes fixed on a deathly pale face.

  He had sat by her side throughout the night. As the Bard, some of his duties entailed dealing

  with injuries. Aingeal’s sudden collapse was beyond his ken. If she had shown any sign of a

  further decline he would have called on Iscatya. The little female had tossed and turned for

  hours, muttering inane sentences until normal sleep stilled her limbs, and a semblance of

  colour graced the smooth curves of a beautiful face. Retreating to the sofa, he had managed

  a few hours of restfulness until the morning sun broke over the horizon.

  Peeping round the door of her bedroom, gentle snores calmed his heart. Aingeal was not in

  any danger, whatever had stolen her vitality left her intrinsically unharmed.

  “What ails thee Aingeal…?” The Bard noticed the wince as he voiced his alarm at the complete

  disintegration of control over body, mind and tongue.

  S
ipping at the cold nectar of tropical juice, her mind relived the moments before her body went

  into moron mode, the taste reminded her of the last drink she had downed yesterday.

  “My brain cells are fighting to leave my skull, if I have any left. Basically I have the mother

  of all hangovers, which isn’t fair, because I only had two drinks….” Alex wailed pathetically.

  Resting her forehead on one hand, she held up the other hand to still the next question.

  “Before you ask… A hangover is what you get for being greedy. When a human has drunk

  too much alcohol. I think maybe the last drink was spiked…” Draining her glass, she held it

  out for a re-fill. Teague brought several cartons to sit on the counter, topping up her glass

  he waited for enlightenment.

  “I should have known better. That’s why I wanted a man, male to accompany me. To take

  an innocently seeming rum punch from anyone but an accredited vendor, was a stupidly

  naive mistake. Spiking means the drink was laced with drugs. I was targeted to be robbed,

  or for other reasons.” She wasn’t going to go into detail. Teague would round up the boys

  and hunt down the perpetrator if he knew the underlying use for plying lone females with

  tainted drinks.

  “The worst part about it all… Is that I never got to taste real jerk chicken. What a bitch….”

  Sinking another glass of juice, her cells began to rehydrate, the pounding in her head

  dimmed. “Thank you Teague. If I had gone alone…” Alex couldn’t finish the sentence.

  If he hadn’t been there, she would be in a much worse state than a pounding headache.

  “No thanks are owed Aingeal. I am thy body guard. The few minutes you were gone from

  my side proves thy life has need of protection.” The Bard reinforced Iscatya’s mandate

  of safe guardianship for a soul sister.

  “Nope, that’s Cat’s interpretation of protection. I made a mistake, that’s it. No more than

  that. If I hadn’t insisted on going to a festival that has proved to be wild, none of this would

  have happened…” Reaching out she gripped his fingers in a token of thanks.

  “You were extremely verbose Aingeal…” Teague was hell bent on filching every last nuance

  from the disconnected utterances of an incapacitated female.