“Do you know where they are, right now?” Freya grasped Heimdall’s arm, forcing a typo which auto-correct transformed from “going” to “groin.”
Heimdall sighed and looked at Freya. “Will you just let me do this?”
Freya released her hold on him and took a step back. “Sorry.”
Bria nudged her grandson with her foot. “And you know I’ll still be here. When you decide you want your training.” She smiled and kept knitting.
Sally stumbled backward and blinked. The huge black dog with yellow eyes stood above her atop the faerie fort. It snarled at her.
Flashing back to the Køjer Devils and their burning eyes, Sally shuddered. She pointed at the faerie ring. “Um, does anyone else see a really big dog?”
The dog bared its teeth and growled.
“A really big, mean dog?”
Freyr faced the faerie ring. “The pooka. The shapeshifter.”
“By the enchanted chains of the Svártalfaheim!” Thor exclaimed. “No one said anything about having to deal with Wargs.”
“Technically, there aren’t any Wargs in Ireland,” Freyr explained. “But there is a family connection between the Wargs and the pookas, historically.”
Eamon leaned close to Sally. “What’s a Warg, if I may ask?”
“It’s a kind of wolf,” Sally replied. “And they’re not usually good guys.” A distorted image of Managarm the Moon Dog rose before her eyes. She saw him lying in the dirt on the blood-soaked battlefield, with overturned and blackened bulldozers scattered about and the White Oak Yggdrasil looming over him. Her nose crinkled at the memory of the smell of his burning flesh, and how his insides had started to liquefy . . .
Thor growled low in his throat and spat on the grass.
“You will respect this space!” Freyr warned Thor. “No spitting.”
Thor glanced toward Sally, still caught somewhere between the Battle of the White Oak in Oregon and the faerie fort in Ireland. “Steady now,” he said. “I won’t let you get hurt.”
Clare narrowed her eyes as she scanned the grass-covered earthworks. “What’s everyone looking at?” she complained.
Freyr raised his eyebrows. “She can’t see it.”
“See what?!” Clare stomped her foot on the gravel road and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “If you’re all ganging up just to make fun of me . . .”
“They choose when they want to be seen, and by whom,” Eamon offered. “This is one of his more common states.”
The dog growled again and snapped its teeth. Sally stood her ground, but shivered.
“That’s what a pooka looks like?” Sally asked as she got her breathing under control. “An ugly black dog?”
The dog took a few steps toward the edge of the plateau over her head. It narrowed its eyes and shifted its weight back, preparing to leap.
“I don’t think the pooka cared for your description of his physical appearance.” Freyr stepped into the creature’s line of sight and distracted it from Sally.
Locking eyes with Freyr, the dog jolted upright and backed up several paces. It lowered the front half of its body, dipping its head and closing its eyes.
Sally peeked around Freyr’s shoulder. “Did that thing just bow to you?”
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” Clare demanded.
Standing at the head of the scattered group, Eddie motioned Clare to come forward.
“It’s all right, miss!” he said with a generous smile. “If you can’t hear at the back, there’s plenty of room up front here.”
The German couple stepped aside and waved her forward.
“Come learn about the faerie fort!” Eva said to Clare with a smile.
Clare looked around at Sally, Freyr, and Thor. She fidgeted in place.
“Think of it as recon,” Sally suggested to Clare. “You can absorb the local legends while we figure out this ugly dog situation.”
Clare shot Sally a dirty look and reluctantly walked forward to stand in front of Eddie.
“Now, I was just beginning to tell these fine folks here,” Eddie gestured to Eva and Frederick, “the pookas can be nasty creatures. Sometimes they’re just up to a bit of mischief, like stealing a cooling tart from a window or mixing up the salt with the sugar in the kitchen. But anyone who lives in these parts will tell you to never approach an unknown horse. Particularly one that’s big and black with fierce yellow eyes!”
Eddie’s own eyes widened for dramatic effect. “Such a creature might seem docile enough. It might even bend down its long neck and invite you to climb up on its back for a moonlight ride across the countryside.”
Eva and Frederick laughed with delight.
The guide leaned forward and spoke to Clare directly. “But don’t you give in to that temptation! If you climb up on that great beast’s back, it will take you for a ride you’ll never forget. Aye, you’ll more than likely never be heard from again!”
Eamon smiled at Eddie. “People really eat this stuff up,” he muttered.
Freyr kept his eyes trained on the dog. It remained in its position of subservience on the elevated fort. “There’s always a seed of truth in such tales.”
Eamon studied the dog. “Something is making him nervous. He’s showing you that he won’t cause trouble.”
Thor stepped up beside Freyr. “I think we should handle this together.”
Freyr nodded in agreement. The two walked past Eddie and his trio of listeners and started to climb the side of the grassy fort.
“No, no, gentlemen! I’m sorry, you can’t be scaling the earthworks.” Eddie hurried behind them, but stopped just short of stepping off the gravel and onto the grass.
“So, we should be climbing, then?” Frederick asked with a frown as he lowered his camera. “We go up to see the faeries?”
“No! Everyone stay where they are,” Eddie said to the tourists. His voice became more frantic as he called to Thor and Freyr. “It’s not safe. I’m not just talking about the risk of slipping on the grass, if you understand my meaning.”
Thor and Freyr ignored Eddie and continued to scramble up the side of the grassy mound.
Eddie shouted and waved his arms in the air. “You’ll have to come down from there right now. Come back to the road where it’s safe!”
Eamon lifted a hand to calm Eddie. “I think it’s okay, really. You can get on with your speech, for the others.”
Reaching the top of the mound, Freyr motioned for Sally to follow.
“Okay.” Sally hesitated at the edge of the gravel road, and then felt the thrill of magickal energy dance beneath her feet as she stepped onto the grass.
“Come back, young miss!” Eddie pleaded.
“You must not!” Eva called after her.
Sally reached the perimeter of the earthworks and pressed her hands against the springy moss and damp grass covering the mound. More magick tickled the palms of her hands and spread up her arms. Sally started to climb.
“I want to go, too!” Clare broke away from Eddie but Eamon caught her elbows and held her back.
“Let me go!” Clare struggled to free herself. Eamon held on tight.
“I’d wager it’s best to leave this matter to them,” Eamon told her.
Clare stopped fighting against him. He held her elbows a few seconds longer, then let go.
“It’s not fair,” Clare pouted and looked up at the faerie fort.
Eva stepped forward and placed her hands on Clare’s shoulders. “Reckless, your friends. You come along now with us to learn about the faeries.” She guided Clare back to stand with Eddie and Frederick.
Sally reached the plateau and climbed to her feet. Even with the dog cowering steadily in a low bow before Freyr a few yards away, she was startled by the creature’s size. The snarling animal was easily 150 pounds.
Freyr pulled the Moon Witch forward to stand beside him.
A flash of light traveled the length of the dog’s body, and the massive cur transformed into the black-clad youn
g man from the marketplace. He held the same submissive position and dared to glance up at Freyr.
“Please, your grace,” the young man pleaded. “I meant no harm to the young lady.”
Freyr stepped forward until he was practically standing on top of him. “What precisely were your intentions then?”
The young man looked up with a weak smile. “Well, I’m a pooka . . . It’s kind of what I do.”
“What is your name?” Freyr demanded.
“Phelan.” The pooka lifted his shoulders. “If I had known you had returned . . . Should your generosity and compassionate reason lead you to see past my transgressions, then I am your servant indeed.” The pooka paused, then in a very low voice added, “Sort of.”
“What was that?” Freyr barked.
The pooka scrambled back a few paces, then looked past Freyr to Thor. Relief and hope washed over his face.
“The mighty Thunderer! You are in charge?” Phelan asked.
“Yes,” Thor replied. Freyr shot his cousin a sideways glance.
Watching Freyr carefully, the pooka pushed himself up onto his knees. “And you’ll protect me from the sacral prince?”
“Sure.” Then Thor frowned. “Wait. The who now?”
Phelan smiled and held his hands out toward Thor. “I am your friend! When your kind came to our shores and drove the faerie species underground, I stood with you. Don’t betray me now.”
Thor glanced at Freyr, who shrugged in response.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Thor said.
Phelan edged closer to Thor but kept his eye on Freyr. “When the Vanir were collecting their forces on the hills of Tara.”
Recognition dawned on Freyr’s face. “You?!” He glowered down at Phelan, and the pooka shrank back. “You were the one who gave the Æsir maps of our tunnel systems? You left our forward forces vulnerable to the attacking enemy!”
Phelan raised a nervous hand. “Uh, guilty.”
Thor stepped forward and rested a hand on Freyr’s shoulder. “We are enemies no longer. That was millennia ago.”
Freyr glared at Phelan and then turned his back on the pooka with a loud, angry sigh.
Sally watched Freyr walk to the edge of the plateau. Down below a troop of painfully skinny, child-like creatures with stringy hair marched past the parked van on their way down the mountain.
Eamon followed their progress as well, but Eddie, Clare, and the Germans were oblivious.
“What’s happening here?” Sally called down to Eamon.
Eamon stepped closer to the earthworks. “Looks to be Lesidhe.”
Eddie smiled up at Sally. “If you’d like to climb down from there and come along with me a wee bit up the road, we’ll pay a visit to the waterfall—the pooka hole itself!”
“Ooh!” Eva practically cooed. She snapped a picture of Eddie gesturing toward the waterfall.
“Go on, then!” Phelan shouted down at Eddie. “There’s no one there for you to disturb today. Keep bringing your throngs of foreigners with their funny accents and their strange devices to invade our homes, and see what happens.”
Clare paused a moment. She looked up at Sally, then followed Eddie up the road, trailing behind Eva and Frederick.
Eamon watched them go. “Eddie doesn’t have the gift,” he said to Sally standing above. “Can’t see or hear any of it.”
Thor motioned to Sally. “You’re up.”
She stepped slowly toward Phelan, afraid he might shift back into a giant black dog. “At the Magickal Marketplace in Dublin last Friday, you sold what was supposed to be some kind of faerie charm.”
Phelan rocked back on the balls of his slender feet and laughed. “You came all the way out here for that?” Phelan clutched at his stomach as he howled. “I have the Æsir god of thunder and the heir to the Danann throne on my very doorstep, all over a silly tourist trinket?”
“What’s this about a throne?” Thor turned to Freyr with a darkening scowl.
“I’ll tell you later.” Freyr watched as the pooka collapsed forward and rolled on the moss in mirth.
“It’s not a fake!” Sally yelled at him. “There’s something real to it.”
The pooka kept rolling and laughing. “Sure! Sure there is.”
Thor grabbed Phelan by the collar of his black shirt and yanked him to his feet. “That so-called trinket helped to awaken Badbh!”
That caught the pooka’s attention. “What?” He looked at Sally. “But I didn’t sell you anything, although I had a lovely leprechaun pin I was hoping you’d notice.”
“It wasn’t me.” Sally gritted her teeth. “You sold it to my friend, Clare.”
Phelan screwed up his eyes. “Another American girl?”
Sally nodded.
“Oh, you mean that.” Phelan spread his arms wide. “It was just a trick. I needed to give it to some foreigner, to get it out of the country.”
Another straggly group of spindly youngsters with pointed ears and red hats hurried past, casting furtive glances at the activity on the faerie mound.
Thor frowned down at the retreating faeries. “What in the blazes of Muspelheim are they up to?”
Freyr glared at Phelan. “Answer.”
“It’s the call,” the pooka explained with a frustrated shrug. He looked up at Freyr. “You’re not involved in this, then?”
Freyr stomped his foot on the wet grass, and the pooka jumped. “You’re in no position to be asking questions, my friend.”
Phelan’s expression brightened. “I am glad to hear you call me that.”
“Sarcasm,” Thor sighed. “It’s called sarcasm.”
“Phelan!” A group of voices shouted up from below.
Sally looked over the edge of the fort and counted seven men and four women dressed in the same black togs as Phelan.
“Phelan!” They cried again in unison, then one of the women stepped forward.
“Dark tidings from Dublin, Phelan!” she called. “The keeper of the cauldron is awake, and she’s in a foul mood to be sure.”
“Friends of yours?” Sally asked Phelan over her shoulder.
“More pookas,” Freyr replied.
“Come away with us,” one of the young men in black shouted.
Freyr and Thor turned to Phelan. “Well?” Thor asked.
“I’ll have to catch up with you!” Phelan shouted down to his kin.
There was some grumbling within the group before a burst of light from their midst nearly blinded Sally. When she looked again, a snarling pack of black dogs glared up at her. They sniffed the air, trying to catch her scent, and then took off running up the mountain instead of down.
In a flash of silvery light, Phelan shifted again into the same black dog as before. He lowered his head and growled at Freyr, his yellow eyes darting between the others who stood above him.
Freyr crossed his arms and stared down at the drooling dog. “You’re being particularly unhelpful, and I don’t appreciate the attitude.”
Another flash ran the length of the dog’s body from nose to tail, and Phelan reappeared in his human form, kneeling in the grass.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Force of habit.”
The phone in Thor’s pocket buzzed. He pulled it out and read the text message from Heimdall. He frowned at the display. “I really hope that’s a typo.”
Thor turned to Phelan. “You. On your feet.”
Phelan scrambled up to standing. Sally noted the pooka was nearly as tall as Freyr, whereas the other faeries she’d seen had been the size of children at the largest.
“You’re coming with us,” Thor told the pooka.
“Is that a good idea?” Sally asked.
“That’s quite generous of you,” Phelan stammered in reply. “But, if I may I ask, where precisely are we going?”
“Dublin,” Thor said. “Everyone back in the van.”
“We still have a few hours left in our tour of Ireland’s mystical countryside,” Freyr pointed out.
&nb
sp; Thor growled. Freyr lifted his hands in defeat. “Okay, bad time for jokes.”
“Beg your pardon.” Phelan stepped forward. “I’d prefer to remain here, in my own home, if I might.”
“You live here?” Sally glanced around at the featureless rise of grass and moss.
The pooka’s face brightened. “There’s quite a bit more to it than meets the human eye.” He gestured toward the far side of the ring. “For instance, the entrance just over here is a gateway to an entire network of underground hearths and kingdoms?”
Sally began to follow him. “Kingdoms?”
Freyr grabbed Sally by the shoulders and pulled her back. “Don’t you dare!” he shouted at Phelan. “I forbid you to attempt to entrap Sally or any other human. Ever. Do you understand?”
Phelan offered a gentle nod. “Ah, yes. But if I might point out, I am unclear as to your authority. The Thunderer says he is in charge. After all, the Tuatha de Danann were bested by the Æsir.”
Freyr strode forward and planted an angry finger in the pooka’s chest. “The Vanir were never bested. It’s a truce! Nothing more.”
“Oh, yes, I see.” Phelan’s voice trembled.
“Why don’t you want to go to Dublin?” Sally asked.
“There’s really no reason for me to be of further burden to you in this matter,” the pooka replied.
“He’s afraid of Badbh,” Freyr said. “The pooka here knows precisely what’s going on. And he’s doing his best to stay out of it.” He leaned close and breathed in Phelan’s face. “Do you really think Badbh wouldn’t find you anyway? There’s no place in Ireland you could hide.”
Phelan pondered this for a moment, then looked at Sally with hopeful eyes. “Perhaps I could go home with you? Back to America?”
“Not even,” Sally replied quickly.
10
Thor was in an especially bad temper by the time the tour van returned to Dublin.
Despite confused and desperate pleas from both Clare and the Germans to continue the tour of legendary Ireland, Eamon ordered Eddie to cut short the guided exploration.
Eamon promised Eva and Frederick they would be given seats on another tour the next day, but the entire drive back Clare complained about missing out on the “mystical Wicklow Mountains.” She alternately pouted at Thor and Freyr and glared at Sally.
The Black Pool (Valhalla Book 3) Page 13