by Dee, Bonnie
They jogged at a fast clip, in silence, each caught up in his own thoughts.
Memories of Brigid tumbled through Ethan’s mind.
She’s like a fiery spear. Her beauty pierces my heart and ignites my passion. I know she belongs to another, but she belonged to me first. And I would have her again.
Seeing her in battle brought back vivid memories. She had been fearless in the fighting and fearless when they’d made love. Their last night together she’d given him her body and her heart. She had ridden him hard, squeezing his cock like a vise. Her milk-white breasts gleaming in the moonlight.
And when he came, he had felt like a conquering hero.
Now, time had conquered their love.
He couldn’t deny the desire that surged like fire through him still. He shook his head and resolutely turned his attention to the road ahead.
*
Gabe gripped the spear case tightly though his fingers and his arm ached. He kept going over the battle in his mind. A vision of Brigid silhouetted before the flames brought a surge of renewed lust to his groin. He pictured her as he had taken her behind the tree at the encampment. He had conquered her and then fought by her side against the Stone Men. He grinned. He’d finally been able to make use of his Protector training and abilities.
It felt good.
He and Ethan reached the cottage first, coming in the back way from the woods.
“It looks undamaged.” Gabe opened the unlocked door.
“Aye. Perhaps the fire wasn’t as great as we feared.”
“Let’s put our weapons in the cottage. I don’t see myself carrying a battle spear into town.”
“Nor me, a harp.”
Their weapons safely hidden in the bedroom closet out of sight, they took a moment to wash away the traces of the battle.
“Here.” Gabe tossed Ethan a T-shirt. “Should fit you. We’re not too different in size.”
Ethan stripped off his filthy, tattered shirt and tossed it on the bed. He pulled the borrowed shirt over his head and grinned. It was a bit tight. “Aye. Not too different.”
After they locked the back, they opened the front door and froze.
“Dear God.” Ethan crossed himself.
They stared with horror down the main road that ran through the tiny village. Fires burned everywhere. Blackened skeletons of shingled and thatched roofed houses smoldered. Villagers straggled down the street like mindless zombies, their clothes singed and spattered with soot. The post office and the quaint, little shops at the crossroads of the town looked like the aftermath of the destruction of Pompeii.
But what made them blanch was the smell of burning flesh. It hung in the air overwhelming the fresh scents of spring. The fireballs had struck when almost everyone in the town was sound asleep in their beds, making them easy targets for Ba’al’s flames.
People with orange vests carried stretchers piled with moaning bodies. It seemed everyone’s hair was singed; their faces blistered and shiny like glass from the effects of the lightning. Wires dangled from trees and poles indicating that the town most likely had lost electricity and communication with the rest of the county.
Gabe stopped one of the men staggering towards the inn.
“It’s like hell back there.” His voice sounded like a scratched record. “There was no warning, no sign of a storm. Then all of a sudden, lightning. Over and over. You weren’t safe inside or out.” He started to cry. “My neighbor’s little girl. She comes over to my house for toffees the wife buys. We’ve no children of our own. She, she…” Tears poured down his face, drenching his cheeks and making rivulets in the soot that covered his features. “Gone. Burnt. Their house. Nothing left.” He stopped dead and looked around as though waking from a dream. “My wife. Do you know where she is? I told her to run outside, but she wanted to get our wedding picture.” He started to whimper. “She’s not here. She’s supposed to be here.” He tugged at Ethan’s sleeve. “Did you see her? Hair as red as a flame. Flames. Flames everywhere. Everywhere.” He shambled away, still muttering under his breath, heading like a lemming toward the inn.
“Damn. Where the hell is Macklin?” Gabe asked.
“The garda? Hopefully alive. Let’s get your car. We’ll make better time, maybe.”
Gabe’s small rental car was still parked by the side of the cottage.
“We’ll head on over to the town infirmary. See if it’s still there.” Gabe took a deep breath and turned on the ignition.
“Put on the air conditioner. I can’t take the stench from the outside.”
Gabe didn’t argue, but turned up the AC. The cool artificial air filled the interior and the men took a deep breath. The engine turned over and the car rolled easily down toward the center of the tortured town.
* * * *
“So, these are the men who murdered my comrades. Count yourselves lucky that my daughter has a forgiving heart and I was able to restore their honor.” Dagda grinned wolfishly.
The three warriors gaped at their surroundings. They had barely recovered from their journey deep into the bowels of Dagda’s cliff, blindly following Brigid’s light as she led them through the winding tunnels, and now they stood before one of the greatest of the gods, Dagda the Good.
The immense chamber was filled with chests overflowing with tributes of gold, jewels and fine cloths. Torches burned brightly and revealed a huge rectangular table around which were seated twelve ghostly apparitions. In front of each was an ornately carved wooden shield with beaten copper designs imbedded in the wood. Blunt hammers and swords lay atop the shields, shining and sharp. Their arms rested on either side of their weapons, and clasped around each wrist was a gleaming copper bracelet etched with ancient magical runes and designs.
The three averted their gaze from the silent spirits and turned beseechingly to Brigid standing close to her father.
Ma’an fell to his knees. “Please, my lady, entreat your father and his men not to kill us. I know we can be of further use to you in your fight against Nimhnach.”
Dagda’s great bellow of laughter boomed against the chamber’s walls. “And do you, a mere human, feel powerful enough to go up against him? I thank you for making me laugh; it’s been many a year since I did so. Do not worry, little man. I promised my daughter that I would pardon you, and unlike your former master, I keep my promises. Do not fear these men. They are no longer your enemies.” He sighed. “Their time here is short.”
Brigid gazed at them in awe. “Are they alive?”
Dagda shook his head. “Their spirits returned when I took the hands you brought me and matched each pair with its owner.” He paused. “I had planned for them to receive a gift when they awoke after the Long Sleep that Uaithne placed upon them. It was to be a set of copper bracelets, inscribed with their name and my thanks for their loyalty and bravery. I had them ready for that day, but who could have foreseen that it would be more than three thousand years before they would wear them?
“So I clasped those bracelets around each wrist and bound them to those mighty hands, cleaving the flesh together. Their spirits revived for this one last fight, but they can stay only until the dawn when they will journey to Tir nan Og.”
“Can they speak, Lord Dagda?” Cull asked.
Ma’an and Torc blanched at Cull’s temerity to imply that anything Dagda did could be less than perfect.
“Aye. But they have always been spare of words, grasping them tight as a miser does his gold.”
“Not all of us, milord.” The youngest-looking one with a great mass of black, curling hair and twinkling green eyes called out loudly and left his comrades, striding over to Brigid.
“Alaran! I wondered how long you would remain silent.” Though they were of a similar height, Alaran’s arms and thighs rippled with muscle.
He smiled at Brigid. “All I can do now is speak, little one. The Powers That Be granted us only the one wish—to defeat the Stone Men at last.” He smiled deeper and a dimple appeared in his cheek. “I
cannot even kiss you.”
Brigid’s laughter filled the chamber. “You couldn’t kiss me even if you were able. I am a married woman now. You would need to fight my husband for a kiss.”
“Speaking of your spouse, when does Uaithne return?”
“He’s called Ethan now and he isn’t my husband. I’ve been married for five years to a Protector named Gabe. I didn’t know of Ethan’s existence until three days ago. He and Gabe went to Carrigclarseach to determine the damage done by Ba’al’s fire. I’m supposed to meet them there.”
“Then ‘tis unlikely we’ll still be here to speak with them.”
“Actually, you might. I have a communication device. I’m anxious to find out what’s going on in town. If I step outside the cave I could probably get a signal.”
“You can communicate over great distances?” Alaran’s eyebrows shot up and disappeared under the mass of hair that fell over his forehead.
“Yes. Now there are devices that do that. I’ll see if I can contact them.”
“I’ll go with you. I’m curious to hear this thing work.”
They reached the back entrance to the cliff quickly and Brigid slipped out into the evening air. Alaran hovered within the cave entrance. The fire in the forest had died down, but the soft rain continued, soothing the scorched trees.
Brigid pulled out her cell phone from her jeans pocket and flipped it on. She speed dialed Gabe’s number and waited until his voice came on, the urgency that filled it hardly masked by how scratchy it sounded.
“Brigid? It’s a good thing you called.”
“How bad is it in town?”
“It’s hell. Pure hell. We need you now. We’ve too many people dying here. Burnt, scorched, melted like candles. Damn good thing we let Nolen wait.”
“I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
“We’ll be waiting.”
The voice stilled and Alaran shook his head. “’Tis a marvel. It sounded as though he was right here with us.”
“Oh, Alaran, I should have let you speak with him.”
He shook his head. “No matter. What I really wanted was some time with you alone.” He started to speak, stopped, then started again. “You are the one thing I regret leaving. If things had been different…”
“What?” Brigid looked at him, startled.
“You don’t remember?”
“There’s a lot I don’t remember.”
He ran his hands through his hair. “What was the most wonderful time in my life, you can’t even recall.”
“You mean we were … lovers? But I thought…”
“Uaithne? He was your first, but I was your next.” He clenched his fists. “I thought I’d be your last.” He moved farther back into the entrance, hiding his face. “You may not remember, but I do.” His voice turned into a seductive whisper. “You were not betrothed to him. You were, are, beauteous. You came upon me cleansing my body in your pond, as you called it. You demanded a forfeit for the privilege. When I asked what you wanted, you dropped your tunic and said, ‘Bathe in my pond.’” Alaran stepped back out into the moonlight.
Brigid gazed mesmerized at his face, desire gleaming in his eyes. His ghostly hands drifted to his groin.
“Do you remember now, little one? How you clung to me? Rode me?” He cupped his cock. “Remember?”
Brigid gripped her head as vibrant visions overwhelmed her. She moaned.
And she remembered. “That was our one and only time together. I am so sorry, Alaran. I was young and … curious. I had no one with whom I could compare Uaithne.” Tears filled her eyes. “That same night I pledged my heart and hand to him.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “I am so sorry, Alaran. So sorry.”
He moved as though to leave the security of the cave, then stopped. “If we had had more time…”
She shook her head. “No.”
He squared his shoulders and his mouth grew grim. “I’ll tell the others you’ve left.” His mouth softened. “We almost assuredly will not be here when you return, little one. May you succeed in your quest … and be happy.”
Brigid couldn’t speak. She placed her hands on her heart and bowed. When she raised her head, he was gone.
She cursed softly. She’d lost her friend a second time.
She sighed. She couldn’t dwell on the loss now. She had to reach the town as fast as she could.
Even at a quick trot, it was at least an hour away. There had to be a faster way. She felt the gentle mist on her skin and she remembered. Bit by bit her form shifted and she became as one with the moist air. She drifted through the night, wafted by the breeze until she reached the edge of town.
Sheltered behind a tree, she returned to her true shape. She stepped from behind it and gasped with horror at a scene straight from Dante's Inferno. Gabe hadn’t exaggerated. Nolen’s evil had struck already, turning a peaceful village into burning rubble.
And the people into burnt offerings.
Chapter Ten
1st May—Pre-dawn
Brigid flipped open the cell phone clenched in her fist and contacted Gabe.
“Darling, I’m in town near Connelly’s. They’ve turned it into a temporary hospital.”
“We saw that so we decided to drive down to the clinic and see what was going on there. Part of the building was badly damaged by the fires, but it’s still standing.” His voice crackled in the air, barely masking his anger and frustration. “Ethan and I are going to stay at the clinic and help.” There was a deadly pause. “Bridge, it’s like a massive terrorist attack. The burns, the smell.”
“What do the people think happened?”
“A powerful lightning storm. When it began to rain…”
“That was me.”
He laughed. “I thought as much. It put out most of the fires and convinced everyone that it was just a freak storm. Some thought it might be due to global warming. The lightning took out most of the phone lines and they’re having difficulty connecting with the outside. Good thing our phones weren’t affected. Gotta love the KOTE techies.”
“Have you seen any signs that Nolen drove through town?”
“No. And that’s almost as disturbing as the possibility that he hasn’t left the manor house.”
She heard him sigh.
“The only road from there is through the village, so I think we have some time, but the clock is ticking.” He paused. “Bridge, I haven’t contacted KOTE about any of this yet. They must be informed. We’re going to need their help.”
“Can it wait until the situation in town has been taken care of?”
“It’s going to have to. We can handle what’s going on right now on our own, but once conditions in town improve, I’ll touch base with them. Until then…”
“We help where we can do the most good. See you soon. I love you.”
She shoved the phone back in her pocket and headed for Connelly’s. Stretchers rushed by her on their way to the dining room as she entered the unattended lobby. Moans and whimpers filtered through the open archway. The stench of burned flesh and clothes permeated the air.
Frenzied activity filled the makeshift hospital ward. Clean linen cloths covered tables pushed together to form beds. Mattresses, pillows, quilts and cushions provided a padded surface for the tender flesh of the burn victims. Volunteers dipped soft sheets torn up for rags into bowls of cool water and pressed them gently over exposed skin.
She paused on the threshold, hesitating to approach a harried looking woman who held a clipboard. Her curly red hair looked as though it had come too close to a hot curling iron, the ends split and scorched.
Brigid spied Connelly coming from the kitchen pushing a cart that held basins of fresh, clear, liquid and made her way to him. He looked up as she approached and greeted her with undisguised relief. “Mrs. Kawsantower, thanks be to God you’re all right! And your husband, too, I hope?” Brigid nodded and Connelly smiled. “It’s been a madhouse here and when we saw that your cottage looked undamaged, we had to assu
me you were also unharmed.”
“We’re both fine, and remember, call me Brigid. Gabe is with Professor Clark helping out at the clinic in the village. What can I do here?”
“Ask Doctor O’Neill there. She’s holding down the fort for now.”
The tired-looking woman turned around as Brigid tapped her on the shoulder and introduced herself. “How can I help?”
“Do you have a plane parked outside to fly some of these people to the hospital in Donegal town?” she asked only partly in jest. “Most of the burns are too severe for us to handle here and the main road is blocked. The clinic was damaged and we lost one of the nurses. We’ve got cases that can easily become infected. We’re running low on antibiotics. We don’t have enough IVs. Some of these blisters are ready to pop. I’m dealing with several people who are in shock.”
She let her breath out in exhaustion. “How can you help? Grab a basin and apply some cool compresses to those people on the left side of the room. And pray for a miracle, otherwise we’re going to lose even more of these folks to shock or infection. We’ve already lost about seventy people whose homes were burnt to the ground with them still in their beds. There’re at least forty people here who’ve died in the last hour and we’ve had to take their bodies to the stable. I don’t know how many people have died over by the clinic.” She shook her head. “I saw too much mindless horror when I was over in the Middle East. It’s like a suicide bomber except this time we’ve no one to blame.”
She made her way over to one of the volunteers who had called her, Brigid’s presence already dismissed.
I know who to blame. Brigid squared her shoulders and entered the kitchen where Connelly, his wife and those volunteers only mildly burned were filling containers with cool water from the faucet. As it gushed out, an idea struck her. “Where does the water come from? A reservoir from the town?”
Connelly put down the container he was filling and answered her. “’Tis from the well out back. We’ve an emergency generator that’s been pumping it out. It keeps the lights going in the inn, also. Why do you want to know?”