She slapped Macha hard across the face, then stared down at her hand as if it had acted on its own will.
Badbh turned away from her remaining sister and raised her face to the clear sky. The god of chaos still stood on the rise beyond, a dark figure against the green grass stained red with blood. Even at this distance, she could see the cold smile he offered. Badbh ignored him. A deep, mournful wail rose in her throat. She opened her jaw wide and howled at the sun. Her cry carried over the field, the bodies of the fallen beginning to vibrate in time with her grief.
The wind swirled up around her. Badbh could no longer feel Macha’s presence behind her, and she no longer cared. She held her eyes and mouth open to the sky as the cyclone rose up from the ground to encompass her. Black feathers sprouted again from her arms, her hands and toes curling into sharp talons as she became the raven-winged Fury.
The whirlwind lifted her into the air and expanded outward to encompass the field, lifting the bodies from the ground. The corpses of so many Vanir, of Odin and his kin, even of Freya and Nemain circled around Badbh as the cyclone picked up speed and began to rip up the vegetation.
Only Loki remained anchored to the Earth. As his dark hair blew wildly around his face, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked on with keen interest. A hint of satisfaction played across his features.
Grass and moss whipped into the air, followed by dirt and rocks. The bones of the dead lifted from their ancient graves to be be caught up in the cyclone, still fed by Badbh’s dark wailing. The storm blotted out the sun as she continued to scream, and her dark funnel of death and destruction expanded farther, picking up the Red Top Tours van and other vehicles from the parking area as well as the human tourists who had so recently arrived on the scene.
Badbh closed her eyes and gave herself over to her grief. There was a sustained flash of brilliant light against the inside of her eyelids, followed by the deepest darkness.
And then, nothing.
18
Freya collapsed to her knees in the wet grass. Her grandmother’s mournful scream still echoed inside her skull, though the world outside was still—as it had been all along.
She opened her eyes, and looked up at the sisters of The Morrigan standing together atop Oweynagat’s ogham stone.
Macha released Badbh’s hands, and Nemain reached forward to keep Badbh from buckling under the powerful vision.
Sally knelt behind Freya and rested a hand on her back. “What is it? What just happened?”
Freya sat another few moments in stunned silence. Badbh turned her way and held her gaze.
Macha laid a hand on Badbh’s elbow. “I’ll ask again. Are you willing to accept the consequences of this action?”
Tears streamed down Freya’s cheeks. She looked up at her grandmother and shook her head.
“No,” Badbh said at last. “The cost is too great.”
Freya held her face in her hands and wept. “It wasn’t real,” she whispered. “It didn’t happen.”
Macha nodded and stepped back from her sister. She and Nemain stood together as Badbh turned to face the Æsir and their allies below.
“Odin, Chief of the House of Asgard,” Badbh called with an audible crack in her voice.
Odin stepped forward and dipped his head. “Badbh, keeper of the cauldron, mistress of The Morrigan.”
Badbh paused to get control over her own breathing. She glanced at Freya, still kneeling in the grass, and then looked down to Freyr who lurked in the shadows of Oweynagat below. “Hold your position, Freyr,” she said softly. “We won’t be here long.”
“Freyr?” Sally’s voice caught in her throat. “He’s here? He’s alive?”
Freya grabbed Sally’s wrist to quiet her. “Just hang on, Sally.”
“Your voluntary retreat into the cauldron was one of the conditions of the treaty,” Odin said. “As was the continued wellbeing of my kin, Hœnir and Mímir.”
This time, Badbh didn’t laugh. She listened instead.
“For the sake of the peace, for all of us, I overlooked their murders.”
Badbh nodded. “That was an unfortunate time in our history.”
“I am hoping to avoid more such unpleasantness now,” Odin said. He gestured toward Freya on the ground beside him. “I have kept your grandchildren safe by my own fire, and have adopted them into my family.”
“And yet you have set foot on Vanir soil.” Badbh couldn’t help herself. Before Odin could answer, she raised a hand and offered a small smile of acquiescence. “As you had reason to.”
“We can end this war before it begins in earnest,” Odin called up to Badbh, and then looked to Macha and Nemain in turn.
Badbh lifted her arms and addressed the field. “Let us not condemn this land, nor the continents and seas beyond, to this bloodshed.”
Thor frowned and glanced around the complex of ancient earthworks. “Is she talking to us?”
Freya sniffed as more tears sprang to her eyes. “She’s addressing the land, and all who dwell on or in it.”
Freya climbed to her feet and turned to her Æsir kin and human friends. “It’s over.” She smiled and wiped at her wet face with the back of her hand. “You all fought so bravely.”
From his distant vantage point, Loki caught Freya’s eye. He lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug then quirked one corner of his mouth upward into an approving smile.
Niall faced Freya and lifted his shillelagh into the air. “But we didn’t do anything.”
Freya’s smile broadened, and she squeezed his shoulder. “You did more than you’ll ever know. You might consider training with Bria, though, in addition to your college studies.”
Niall shrugged, and Freya turned back to face the cave. She walked forward and rested her hands on her heart as she looked up at Badbh.
“I will not lose you both,” Badbh said.
“I know.” Freya glanced into the shadows of the cave. She could barely make out the figure of her brother standing just outside the line of sunlight. Her eyes threatened to fill with tears again. She looked back up at her grandmother. “You will keep him safe.”
“You have my word, child.” Badbh gave her granddaughter a sad smile, and then looked to Odin. “I return, voluntarily, to the Black Pool.”
Macha and Nemain stepped forward and took Badbh gently by the elbows. Just before they turned her away from the field, Macha locked eyes with Freya.
“Thank you,” Freya whispered.
Macha nodded once, then tossed her fiery hair over her shoulder and turned away. The Morrigan started down from atop the moss-covered ogham stone that marked the entrance to the underworld. Freya watched as the three sisters faded slowly onto the air with each step, until they simply weren’t there anymore. When Freya glanced again into the shadows of Oweynagat, Freyr was gone.
The Morrigan was gone.
Freya had lingered on the field while the others ambled back to the parking area. Sally stood alone on the grass and watched the Vanir goddess peer sadly into the Oweynagat cave. Then Freya turned her face to the sky, whispered words that Sally could not hear, and turned away to head back to the van.
Sally strode forward, her steps more confident than her heart. She walked down toward the cave entrance, then stopped and studied the lintel where the three sisters of The Morrigan had stood together so recently. The stone was overgrown with grass and moss, but Sally could just make out the worn carvings. She had no idea what the inscription said.
She stared into the darkness of the cave. “Freyr?” she called out tentatively, and received only silence in reply. She hadn’t really expected an answer, but she had still hoped.
“Freyr? Are you there?” she called again. “Can you hear me?”
There was the tiny echo of a single pebble hitting stone deep within the cave. Sally stepped forward as if to enter, but she stopped short at the line of shadow on the ground that separated the field from the underworld. It was cold on the other side of that line, and she could fe
el the darkness reaching for her.
Sally’s heart trembled in her chest. She looked up again at the lintel stone, and then glanced to either side. No one was watching. Her eyes came to rest on a thick twig resting on the ground. She bent down and grabbed hold of it and used the stick to churn up the damp soil at the entrance to the cave.
She didn’t pause to think about what she was doing; that would have stopped her for sure. When she’d dug up a small pile of rich Éireann earth, Sally tossed the twig aside and scooped the dirt into her bare hand. Without looking at it, she shoved the soil into the front pocket of her jeans.
I’ll figure this out, Sally swore to herself. Somehow, I’ll make this right.
She heard Heimdall call her name from the parking area below. Without a second glance at Oweynagat or the sacred field, Sally turned and dashed toward the vehicle.
From his perch atop the grassy rise at the other end of the field, Loki smiled.
As the sun was setting over the Irish countryside, Freya laid the unused shillelaghs into the dolmen’s open portal chamber. It had been a somber drive back from the Cruachain complex, and Freya had battled every minute to put her brother out of her mind.
“I don’t understand what happened,” Sally said, standing next to Freya.
Freya rested her hands on the ancient stones and closed her eyes. “Macha, the red-haired sister of The Morrigan, has the gift of prophecy.”
“Is that where you get your mind-reading talents? From The Morrigan?”
“It’s not really mind-reading.” Freya paused. “But I guess it runs in the family. That has to be why I shared Badbh’s vision. At least, I think that’s what occurred.”
Sally looked back at the others—Heimdall, Thor, Niall, Odin, and Loki—waiting outside the Red Top Tours van. Thor seemed particularly agitated. He had a far-away expression on his face as he twirled the leprechaun hammer in his fingers in slow motion. Sally got the feeling he was itching to use it.
Across the distance, Loki met Sally’s gaze. She looked for some hint of regret or apology in his eyes, but there was none. Still, his gaze spoke to her of friendship and unwavering loyalty. Sally turned back to Freya.
“And what you saw wasn’t good,” Sally said.
“No.” Freya’s breath caught a sob before it escaped her throat. “No, it wasn’t good.”
Sally placed her hand over her pocket and felt the dampness of the Oweynagat earth seeping through to her skin. “What about Freyr?” she asked.
Freya glanced at Sally and shook her head. Sally wanted to say more, to somehow keep open the door of Freyr’s possible return, but Freya broke off from Sally and turned toward the others. “Thor, I need that hammer. Now.”
Thor frowned at the object in his hands. “Are you certain I can’t keep it? Sure, it’s kind of on the dinky side as far as size is concerned, but I’d probably have no trouble taking it on the airplane.” He rested the hammer in his open palm. “And those little marshmallow crowns are actually kind of tasty.”
“Thor,” Freya said in a stern voice. “The hammer.”
With a heavy shrug, Thor headed toward the dolmen. He took his time about it, then paused before he handed over the hammer.
“Who’s to say there isn’t another faerie fracas going on back in Dublin? Maybe I should hang onto this, you know, in case we need it later.”
Freya laid her hand on the tool’s wooden shaft. “It’s not yours to keep, nor to wield.” She drew the cobbler’s hammer away from Thor. “It wouldn’t have suited you long-term, anyway.”
Freya leaned over the burial stones to return the small hammer to the cache of ancient weapons.
“Not even as a souvenir?” Thor asked, his eyebrows lifted in hope.
Freya straightened and patted Thor’s arm. “Sorry.”
“I hate Ireland,” Thor grumbled and stomped back toward the car.
Sally moved out of the way while Heimdall helped Freya replace the dolmen’s table stone. She shoved her hands into her jeans pockets, feeling the soil of Éireann on one side while the fingers of her other hand brushed against the exhausted eye stone from Badbh’s eel bracelet. She pulled out the piece of natrolite and held it up to the last rays of the Samhain sun.
“Do you think Frigga will let me keep it?” she asked as Loki stepped up beside her. “I mean, if there’s supposedly no power left in it?”
“Doubtful.” He smiled. “Even burnt out, a magickal tool will still retain traces of its former power.”
Sally looked up at Loki and narrowed her eyes. “You’re not sharing everything you know.”
Loki chuckled and patted Sally on the back. “I rarely do.”
Sally was tempted to wriggle away from his touch, but there was still something comforting about Loki’s presence at her side.
“I don’t know if I can trust you,” she said at last.
Loki nodded toward Heimdall and Thor standing by the tour van. “Join the party.”
Sally locked her eyes on his and waited for him to continue. Finally, Loki shrugged.
“I will never deliberately put you in harm’s way,” he said. “This I promise you.” He looked away for a moment, then added, “Think of me as a facilitator.”
Sally knew she wouldn’t get any more out of him. Not now. She stared at the stone resting in her open palm. What had once been sparkling white was now dull. It looked like any other dirty pebble from someone’s driveway. “Do you think he’s still alive?”
Loki remained silent.
Sally turned to him. “Badbh wanted to bring back Vanaheim. She was going to pull Freyr through that underground womb to remake him as the Vanir prince she wanted him to be.”
Loki nodded.
Sally made a fist around the stone in her hand. “Do you think there’s enough magick left to bring back Freyr? And Clare? That pooka, Phelan—he said he owes me a favor.”
Loki took Sally’s wrists gently into his hands. Sally knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth, but she clung to hope that she was wrong.
“Even if such a thing were possible, Sally, how would choose between your friends if you could not have them both?” Loki said. “A single favor could not be redeemed for two resurrections.”
“Freyr is important to the Lodge, and to Freya,” Sally replied. She watched Freya walk back to the van. “But Clare . . . Even if she was rash and was a total pain, she didn’t deserve to die.” Her face darkened into a deep frown. “I don’t think I’d be able to choose.”
“A good thing you don’t have to,” Loki said. “A pooka doesn’t have that kind of power.”
“Speaking of pookas.” Thor grabbed Loki’s shoulder and spun him around. “You still haven’t explained how you always manage to show up just when all earthly and other-worldly hell breaks loose.”
“Just my luck, I suppose.” Loki shrugged.
Thor glared at Loki from beneath lowered eyebrows. “You said the Wargs and the pookas are cousins.”
Loki raised a patient hand. “I said nothing of the sort—nor did anyone else, as I recall. However, you are correct. There is a kinship, though somewhat more distant that you might imagine.”
“I knew it!” Thor exclaimed. “As soon as that sniveling black cur of a pooka showed up on the scene and Freyr said—”
Thor stopped mid-sentence. His eyes widened, then misted over.
“And then Freyr said,” Thor tried again, but he choked on the words. “Freyr . . .”
Loki held his arms open. The god of thunder collapsed into Loki’s embrace and sobbed into his shoulder.
19
November 9. Sally was back on campus, standing just inside the Trinity College gates.
The place was still a chaotic mess.
The newspapers had reported a sharp uptick in Halloween pranksters “getting out of hand.” It was probably just as good an explanation as any for the faerie rampage across Dublin and into the countryside.
Even the two-headed water dragon had been rationaliz
ed away as an animated parade float that accidentally ended up in the Liffey.
Sally had seen the repair work being done on the Gresham Hotel and up and down O’Connell Street. Before returning to Oregon, Freya had organized the available Tuatha de Danann into discreet work crews that made miraculous progress each night, and then left the less significant work to the human crews during daylight hours.
But at Trinity College, the faeries were out in force as they rebuilt benches, re-sodded the green spaces, replaced windows and bricks in residence façades, and gathered up the miles and miles of toilet paper that decorated every tree, statue, and edifice on campus.
Sally was impressed. She stood and watched the faerie workers awhile and smiled at so many pointed ears disguised under knitted caps—while brightly striped socks, diaphanous gowns, and other telltale faerie features were on full display for any mortal who cared to notice.
With a special clean-up crew assigned to Sally and Clare’s campus flat, Clare had gotten her pixie housekeeper after all. Only there was no more Clare.
Sally’s smile dropped.
The campus newspaper and gossips were abuzz with the news of the mysterious death of the international student from Texas. Stories told of her suspicious disappearance from campus the weekend prior to Halloween. Students anxious for a few minutes of fame stepped forward with claims of having seen Clare Bixby outside of campus that Sunday and Monday, and Sally even recognized some of these stories as being true.
After that, however, imagination took a sharp left away from the truth. Speculation about the nature of Clare’s death ran rampant after Clare’s body was discovered in the early morning hours of November 1. She was found floating in the Poddle River, downstream of its confluence with the Liffey. Even more perplexing were the scores of “faerie dolls” bobbing in the water all around her. Sally had never gotten the final tally on the number of Tuatha de Danann whose bodies had been purged from the Black Pool and into the river.
The media wasted no time sensationalizing it all.
The Black Pool (Valhalla Book 3) Page 22