by M. D. Massey
“So, he shows up out of the blue looking for revenge, and you’re wondering how the hell he escaped his grave.”
Finn started rolling another cigarette. “I didn’t think much of it, really. Damn dwarf had been buried for nigh on two-thousand years, so he was bound to get out sometime. Wasn’t ’til I heard the Dark Druid chatting with Badb that I learned the whole story.”
“Wow, no wonder the Fear Doirich has had such a hard-on for Fionn’s descendants. Not only did old MacCumhaill free Sadhbh from the Dark Druid’s curse, but he also killed his son.”
Finnegas licked his cigarette to seal it. “Can’t blame him, really.”
The old druid lit up for the third time since he’d arrived. Damn, but he’s worried. “This is all fascinating, but we already knew that the Fear Doirich hates me and wants to see me dead. I trapped him in a decrepit, decaying body, after all.”
“Still waiting for the other shoe to drop, eh?”
“Is it that obvious?”
Finn took a deep drag from his roll-your-own, exhaling the thick grey smoke as he replied. “So, here’s the kicker—since you and the Eye kicked his ass, the Fear Doirich has been knocking on doors. And he’s convinced a good number of the Celtic gods that you’re a threat to their future existence.”
23
“Meaning?” I asked.
“Meaning there’s a price on your head, and every day you grow in power, every time you defeat some new and greater menace, that price increases.”
I shrugged. “I’ve survived this long with them gunning for me. For the life of me, I can’t understand why you’re so concerned.”
He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and flicked ash on the floor. “Son, they’ve been throwing their third string at you to this point. But soon, I fully expect them to start sending demigods and minor deities after you. You might be a badass by the standards of the supernatural races, I’ll give you that. But when it comes to surviving the full and undivided wrath of the gods—quite honestly, you are not yet up to the task.”
“So that’s why the Dagda gifted me with the acorn.”
Finnegas clapped his hands, silently. “Finally, the dum-dum gets it. Yes, the druid grove was supposed to provide you with a safe haven from the gods who have it in for you, and to provide you time to grow into your powers. Also, the damned thing isn’t limited to just one location or plane of existence. It’s a sort of nexus, capable of traveling anywhere the master of the grove so chooses. Meaning, you could stay clear of the gods indefinitely if you had complete control of the damned thing.”
“But now?”
“Now, it’s dying—a preview of things to come, if you don’t get off your high horse and couple with that dryad.” I began to speak, but he held up his hands in protest. “I know you don’t like it, but that’s just the way it’s going to have to be if you want to survive what’s coming.”
“It’s not right, Finnegas. She’s not even completely Jesse. The magic twisted her, turned her into something else. The thought of having any romantic feelings toward that thing—it repulses me.”
The old man rolled his eyes. “Oh, you youngsters with your modern sensibilities. When I was your age, we didn’t mate for ‘love’ or because we had ‘feelings’—we did it for the strength of the tribe, to survive.” He flicked ash at me. “There are more important things at stake than your fecking feelings, son.”
I decided to change the topic. “You really think this is the Fear Doirich again?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods? You bet your ass it’s him. Think about it. You locked him in an aged body, you wounded him with the Eye, and after carrying the damned thing inside your head for over a year, you’re pretty much immune to necromancy, his favorite weapon. Did you think he wasn’t going to try to weaken you to even the odds?”
“Shit, I should’ve have seen it already. Every time that wizard used magic, his spells took on a silver glow.”
“It’s him alright. That’s druid battle magic, or I’m Donald Trump.”
I tsked. “Orange hair wouldn’t suit you.”
“Yeah, but being an asshole does. Supermodel wife wouldn’t hurt, either.”
“Sheesh, but the porn stars? C’mon, a man has to have his standards.”
The old druid cracked a lecherous smile. “Hey, strippers and porn stars need love, too.”
“You’re incorrigible, old man.”
“Look who’s talking.” He stood, dropping his cigarette to the floor and crushing it with his boot heel. “Say, a certain Maori warrior came ’round looking for you earlier while you were still asleep. He said he’d be at his old place, and to come find him when you were ready.”
That news perked me right up. “Hemi’s back?”
“Uh-huh. Had a hot looking little number with him, too—I’d have pegged her for an Irish lass, if I didn’t know any better.”
I couldn’t help but crack a wide grin, despite all the horrible, crazy, weird stuff that had happened to me of late. “Seriously, that’s the best news I’ve heard in years.”
“What do you mean, years? It’s only been, what, seven months or so since he fell off that mountain in Underhill.”
“Never mind. Thanks for conveying the message.”
“Yeah, yeah—I’m a walking answering machine.”
“Holy shit, you know nobody has those anymore, right?”
“Yes, damn it. I’m old, not senile. Live to be my age, and you’ll get your decades crossed too.” His smile faltered and his eyes hardened. “The Dark Druid is no joke, Colin. He stands separate from the gods, as I do, and with the Eye he’s more dangerous than ever.”
“He killed all those people, Finnegas. He could have turned the Eye on me, but instead he murdered hundreds, just out of spite. And more people will—”
I caught myself before I said something I shouldn’t. “Someone needs to stop him, and I guess it falls to me to do it.”
Finnegas clucked his tongue. “Not alone, you won’t. I told you before, and I’m telling you now—you have family that goes deeper than blood, and they have your back. You will call on them, just like you did when you organized the rescue efforts last night.”
Last night—right.
“Yes, Finn. I’ll bring the cavalry with me when I figure out where the bastard went. Speaking of, did anyone see where that fucker and his vampire buddies went?”
“Hmm—Saint Germain relayed the story of what happened to us, since you were too busy living out your savior complex to communicate. You know he’s highly-placed in the European covens, right? Anyway, Germain said that after you took off, Cornelius came flying back with Remy, who was in bad shape but alive. Cornelius scooped up his son and the wizard—the Fear Doirich, probably—and flew them the hell out there. Stasis spell held Germain ’til they were long gone.”
“No telling where they’re hiding now. I’ll check with Luther, see if he knows anything.”
The old man stroked his beard. “Check with Hemi as well. That new girlfriend of his is much more than she appears. Something tells me he didn’t bring her along for eye candy.”
“Alright. Any other major insights, Yoda?”
“Yoda was a journeyman, compared to me,” Finn said as he popped a pair of imaginary suspenders. “If Luke would’ve had me to teach him, he wouldn’t have lost that hand.”
I was about to knock on the door to Hemi’s old apartment when the door swung open, only to be filled by seven-plus feet of Maori warrior. He wore a hoodie that kept his face concealed in shadow, much like my mysterious nemesis. Only on Hemi, it just made him look like a K-Road thug—especially with the tall boy of malt liquor he had in his hand. The way he carried himself told me he’d changed a lot since the last time I’d seen him.
Hemi nodded at me and held up the can. “Hey bro, care for a cold one?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Seriously? We haven’t seen each other in forever, and you greet me by offering me a beer? Dude, the last time I saw you, you d
ied in my arms. I carried your freaking body all the way to New Zealand—”
“He means Aotearoa,” Hemi said to someone in the background.
A female voice answered from behind him, sweet as honey and with a Kiwi accent as thick as Hemi’s. “I know what he means, Hemi. I’ve been topside before, aye?”
“Sorry,” he replied, chastened. “I forget you didn’t spend your whole life in the Underworld.”
Okay, so, this is getting weird fast. I cleared my throat. “As I was saying—”
“I think he wants a hug,” the female voice said.
“Oi, I’m not hugging him, that’s for sure,” Hemi replied over his shoulder. He looked back at me. “No offense. We’re best mates and all, but I’m not keen on the bromance, yeah?”
“Then greet him with a hongi,” the female voice interjected.
By this time, I was trying to look around my friend to see who was speaking, but his considerable bulk blocked the entire doorway.
“Ah, yeah—that I can do. C’mere, bro.”
Before I knew it, the big guy grabbed me with one hand on my shoulder and another behind my head. He leaned in, and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, he pulled me forward until our faces were touching, forehead to forehead and nose to nose.
“Well, this isn’t awkward at all,” I muttered.
“Considered to be an honor,” Hemi replied, staring into my eyes. “Formal greeting, warriors do it all the time.” He released me, clapping me on the shoulders. “C’mon in and meet Maki.”
My friend turned and headed inside, motioning for me to follow.
“Right,” I said, straightening my jacket and looking anywhere but at my resurrected friend. “I think I’ll have that beer, by the way.”
His back was turned to me, so he waved over his shoulder as he headed to a small refrigerator. “Comin’ right up. Colin, say hi to my girl, Maki.”
As soon as the big guy stepped out of the way, my eyes were drawn to a tall, lithe redhead with pale skin and the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen. Her chin was tattooed in the traditional Maori manner, in intricate swirls and patterns that accentuated her striking beauty. Except for her full lips, her face bore the fine, elfin features of the fae, but her hands were callused and her arms lean, like a laborer’s or perhaps those of a craftsman.
I didn’t have to look at her in the magical spectrum to know she was a witch.
Stepping forward, I held out my hand. “Pleased to meet you, Maki. I’m Colin.”
The woman smiled warmly as she took my hand in a dry, firm grip. “I know who you are. Heard heaps about you.”
“All good, I hope?”
Hemi chuckled as he handed me a tall boy. “As if. Have a seat.” He plopped down on a couch that sat in the middle of the one-room efficiency, and Maki sat next to him.
The place wasn’t large inside, since it was a converted garage that sat behind a house just off Manchaca. Hemi had rented for as long as I’d known him, and while it’d been perfect for a single guy, it was a bit cramped for company. I sat cater-corner in a dilapidated easy chair. Hemi pulled back his hood, revealing a face both familiar and radically different.
“Dude, you got your facial tattoos!” I leaned forward and toasted him with my can, and the big guy clinked his against mine. “When did that happen?”
Hemi smiled broadly. “Well, Maki’s… um, granddad…. is a tattoo artist. That’s how we met, actually.”
She elbowed him. “There’s more to the story. Tell him.”
He did, and for the next twenty minutes I listened, enrapt as the two took turns explaining all that had happened to Hemi during his journey to the Underworld. I barely said a word, sipping my beer and nodding until they finished their tale.
Maki beamed at the big guy, hugging his huge arm as she wrapped up the story. “And so, we came here.”
Hemi’s expression soured. “Needed to get as far away from Ruaumoko as possible. He’s still pissed off.”
“Wow,” I replied. “I think that beats any meet-cute story I’ve ever heard.”
Maki chuckled and looked at her man. “He’s a bit metro, this one.”
Hemi gave her a knowing nod. “Yeah, but he grows on you.”
I finished off the rest of my beer. “Gonna need another one of these if I have to take that sort of abuse.”
Maki snapped her fingers, and suddenly I had a fresh, unopened cold one in my hand.
The big guy looked at her with real affection in his eyes, and mock disapproval in his voice. “Show off.” He let that look linger before turning back to me. “I hear you’re in deep, as usual. What’s up?”
I shrugged with fake nonchalance. “Meh. I’m about to hunt down an evil magician who may or may not be the Dark Druid back for revenge. Once I find him, I plan to kill his evil vampire army and take back Balor’s Eye. Oh, and I have to figure out a way to get Belladonna back. She dumped me.”
Hemi nodded. “Heard. Sucks. Need a wingman?”
“If you guys aren’t doing anything later, sure.”
Maki held up her hands, palms out. “Have to sit this one out. Laying low, and all that.”
“I kinda snuck her out of the Underworld against a greater god’s wishes,” Hemi added. “Oi, Colin—you know where to find these jokers?”
“Beats me. We slapped a locator spell on the mage the last time, but he’ll be wise to that now. Any ideas?”
Maki rubbed her hands together. “How powerful is the artifact he stole?”
“Very,” Hemi and I both said at once.
The Maori witch frowned her disapproval at our obvious stupidity. “Then why don’t you look for that instead?”
After Maki pointed out what should have been painfully obvious, she volunteered to cast a finding for mystical artifacts of immense power, using a map of Texas spread out over their breakfast table as her focus. I watched closely as she did her thing, and damn it, she was good. As in, ancient fae good—god-like, even.
Who the fuck did you get mixed up with, Hemi?
Dark tendrils of magic swept out over the map as she chanted and wove her fingers in intricate patterns. Like druidic magic, her casting used both vocal and physical elements, but I got the feeling she was sand-bagging and doing all that stuff just for my sake.
As the little black wisps of magic sunk into various points on the map, they coalesced into small, intense points of light, starting with the Austin area and spreading outward. First, I noticed a bright green blob, right around where the junkyard was located. Druid oak, for sure. Then, a white point of light, along with several smaller pinpricks of light, roughly in the area where Maeve’s manse was located. Tricky, tricky, Maeve. Someone is hiding a ton of serious firepower under their house.
Once the magic began to spread out, more dots of light emerged. Another green dot appeared in my hometown, and while I couldn’t be sure, I’d almost bet it was right over the Éire Imports warehouse. No telling what Finnegas had hidden there. Other dots popped up at various spots on the map, in shades of blue, green, violet, orange, yellow, and even black once or twice. One of those black dots was in the general vicinity of Crowley’s farm. I made note of where those markers were located, for future reference.
Finally, a red dot appeared, bright as the noonday sun. I shielded my eyes until the light faded into a glowing red ember, somewhere southeast of Dallas.
“That’s it,” I exclaimed. “Has to be.”
Maki concurred. “Based on your description, I’d say it is.”
Hemi squinted with his face over the map. “Nearest town is Glen Rose. ‘Squaw Creek Reservoir’ is the spot, though.”
I pulled up Squaw Creek Reservoir on my maps app, zooming in so I could see what was there. “Shit. It’s a fucking nuclear power plant.”
My friend frowned. “Oi, language.”
“I can take it, Hemi,” Maki said. “I’ve been around worse.”
“Maki, what would they need a nuclear power plant for, you thi
nk?” I asked.
“Two possibilities, neither good,” she replied. “Sabotage, or for extra power to fuel a major working.”
I knuckled my forehead. “If they blew that plant up, it’d be another Chernobyl. But I don’t think that’s this wizard’s game. In order to get the Eye to lend its power, he had to agree to its demands.”
“What does it want, anyway?” Hemi asked.
“To wipe the fae from the face of the Earth, including all remaining Tuatha Dé,” I said, chewing on my thumbnail. It never hurt to spark a little of Fionn’s wisdom when I was sussing out a plan. “I think this wizard is using the vamps to help the Eye achieve its stated goal. ‘Quid pro quo, Clarice—quid pro quo.’”
“What’s he mumbling about?” Maki whispered to Hemi. He shrugged and made the universal symbol for “crazy” by twirling his finger by his temple.
I looked at them, exasperated. “It’s a movie quote, for heaven’s sakes. Silence of the Lambs? No? Anyway, the wizard said they were symbiotes now, each helping the other achieve their ends.”
“And what does the wizard want?” Maki asked.
“Honestly? I think he wants me dead,” I replied.
“Wouldn’t be the first bugger who did,” Hemi said. “You attract haters like flies.”
“Gee, thanks. Next time you die, you can get someone else to drag your fat ass back to your mom’s house.”
Hemi’s face fell. “Hey, that hurts. I’m just big-boned, is all.”
Maki pinched his cheek. “I think it’s cute.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ahem. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to get all shmoopy together, while I make some phone calls and round up the cavalry.”
Hemi and Maki looked at each other quizzically. “‘Shmoopy’?”
“It’s a quote from a sitcom! Damn it, but do I have some work to do on you two before this is all over,” I muttered, storming out the front door of the little apartment.
My sensitive ears caught Maki whispering to Hemi behind me. “You weren’t kidding, Waara. He is a touchy one.”