Terran Realm Vol 1-6

by Dee, Bonnie

  He had had enough of standing around while the others were engaged in finding the means to defeat Nimhnach. It was more than time to contact the one group who could tip the balance in their favor. The Irish Terran Spirit Keepers.

  He knelt by the clear, bubbling stream that ran through the Cave and cupped his hands, dipping them into the water, and brought his fingers to his mouth, concentrating his Water talent on the pure liquid. He brushed the water with his lips and murmured his incantation. “I am Dagda, Water Keeper and once leader of the Terrans of Eire. Let my plea for aid reach those whose strength rests in their Spirit. A great evil walks the face of the Earth and threatens those above and below. Think not to remain aloof, for your fate is twined with ours.”

  Dagda opened his cupped hands and the water trickled through his fingers back into the stream. Satisfied with the message, he rose, knowing that as it coursed through the waterways of Ireland it would reach the Terran Spirit Keepers. The stream crossed the Earth’s energy lines and the Spirit Keepers often dwelled beneath the Earth near those lines. When they’d left so long ago, they’d told him of their destination.

  He could only hope that his call for help would fall upon sympathetic ears.

  * * * *

  Tir’ nan-og

  “I tell you we can no longer remain apart from our brothers and sisters above ground. The name of Dagda is familiar to the oldest of us. Why should he contact us now? If we ignore his plea, who knows what evil will be unleashed upon the world?” Machnamh stood before the council of Spirit Keepers, his hands clenched by his side. For the past two days they had debated back and forth the merits of responding to Dagda’s cry for help.

  Perhaps he felt the need to go to his aid more strongly than the others because he had heard the message first. He had gone to the stream that ran from the cold north to drink the icy waters. When he dipped his cup into the rushing stream and carried up the water to flow into his mouth, he’d nearly choked. The intensity of Dagda’s message overwhelmed him, and he’d rushed to summon the council.

  Their response was not what he expected. “Why should we sully ourselves by returning to the world of the humans? Their concerns aren’t ours.”

  He had argued until his voice was hoarse. Now he waited to hear their final decision. The eldest of them all cleared his throat and stretched out his right hand, palm up. “This is what we have decided. We will not venture above—”

  “What? Have you no care for our family out in the human world?” Machnamh’s bellow echoed in the morning stillness.

  “Silence, hasty one. You are misnamed, Machnamh. You never ‘meditate’ upon your words! You may leave, and if you feel the need is truly great, we will reconsider our participation.”

  Machnamh took a deep breath and bowed his head. “Forgive my impatience, but after all,” he looked up, a mischievous grin upon his face. “I’m only one hundred and ten years old.”

  The Elder frowned. “I hope you won’t waste your time above. If there truly is danger that threatens us, the sooner we learn of it the better.”

  “Forgive me, I understand the seriousness of my inquiry. After I’ve spoken with Dagda, I’ll assess the need for our involvement.” He raised his hand. “I will not be swayed by my emotions.” He paused. “But I doubt that Dagda exaggerates.”

  Machnamh strode away from the silent group. His bare feet stepped lightly on the bright green lichen that clung to the rocky surface of his world. He looked up at the blue sky. Not a bird flew across the clear expanse or sang in the apple trees. They featured in stories, poems and songs of the earliest Spirit Keepers who were also Speakers. He knew what some of them looked like as depicted in the art and sculpture of the first Spirit Keepers who had gone underground.

  But he had never seen or heard a bird in all his life. He wanted to hear one.

  Machnamh found the stream that had carried Dagda’s message, and stepped into the cool, rushing water. He closed his eyes and chanted. “Ferry me unto the source from whence your message came. Let me find the messenger and speak with him.”

  He became one with the water’s energy line; his body transformed into its most essential elements, and within seconds he emerged from the stream into a well-lit roughhewn chamber. Powerful sources of light dotted the vaulted ceiling and well-used furnishings were placed about the room.

  A blond-haired man sat on a bench with his back to him. His long, braided hair reached the small of his back and he wore a garishly-colored shirt. Mesmerized by the small, shiny blue rectangular object in front of him, he showed no reaction to Machnamh’s abrupt appearance. “Ahem.”

  The blond-haired man whirled around, his eyes wide at the sight of a well-formed male, his bare feet dripping wet, standing inside the Cave. Recovering quickly, he surged to his feet. “Who are you and how did you get here? What do you want?” he demanded in the Old Tongue. “The answers had better be truth.”

  Machnamh smiled and responded in the same language. “I know your face; it graces the oldest of the portraits of the ancient leaders. You’re Dagda. Rejoice. Your plea found its way to the Spirit Keepers. My name is Machnamh and I’m here to learn more.”

  Dagda took a step forward, his face wreathed in smiles, his arm outstretched. “My heart is thrilled. You speak the Old Tongue and you know my name. Tell me, when will the others be arriving? We’ve much to do.”

  Machnamh clasped Dagda’s hand, drawing him into his embrace. “There are no others … at least, not yet.” He stepped back and sank onto the nearby bench. “There may not be if I can’t convince the elders that there is imminent danger to our world below.”

  Dagda snorted. “Listen well, Machnamh. Nothing and no one will be safe above or below if Nimhnach is not vanquished.”

  Machnamh blanched. “The Venomous One? He still exists? I thought he was a monster created to scare little children.”

  Dagda shook his head. “If only it were so. A monster he is, but all too real. Once you learn of what he has done and plans to do, you’ll wish that he was merely a fireside tale.” He snapped his fingers. “But I’m a miserable host.” He rose and went to the cauldron simmering on the fire and ladled out a portion. “Here, it will satisfy your hunger and renew your strength.”

  Machnamh eyed the exotic smelling concoction and sniffed. A beatific smile crossed his lips. “What is in this?”

  “‘Tis an ancient recipe—literally—from those days when the Red Deer thrived. The Cauldron has never been empty and all who sup from it gain strength and vigor.”

  “A thousand thanks. I never thought to dine on such delicious fare.”

  Dagda went to a small white cabinet and opened it. A light burst forth, illuminating the interior and strange, clear containers filled with a dark, brown liquid. He took two out and set them upon the table. With a twist of his wrist, he released a sharp, sweet scent and a hissing noise into the air.

  “This,” Dagda said. “Is like nothing you have ever supped before.” He offered one to Machnamh. “‘Tis made from secret ingredients and is called a cola drink.” Dagda chugged down half the bottle and smacked his lips. “Eileen keeps us supplied.”

  Machnamh cautiously sipped a small amount, then swallowed more freely. He put his bottle down and sighed with pleasure. “I don’t know who Eileen is, but she has my eternal gratitude.”

  “She’s a young Terran woman who is assisting me in defeating Nimhnach. As you and the other Spirit Keepers should be doing.”

  Machnamh drained the last sweet drops of his drink. “Tell me what has happened. Convince me of the need for Spirit Keeper involvement.”

  He picked up a spoon and, while Dagda informed him of the past weeks’ events, Machnamh dined on the best meal he’d eaten in one hundred and ten years.

  * * * *

  Dublin, Ireland

  Eileen glanced at her watch and fumed. She’d been sitting in the designated location for an hour and no sign yet of the elusive Casey Aidan.

  She took an absent-minded sip from the
noxious mint chocolate smoothie and almost spewed it all over her paperback book. If she didn’t hear the familiar strains of Óró, Sé do Bheatha ‘Bhaile soon, she’d pick up her book, pay for her scarcely touched drink and leave. If they hadn’t been so desperate to find recruits, she never would have agreed to Casey Aidan’s ridiculous demands. Well, the man had better put in an appearance soon. Her stomach was protesting the very aroma of that drink and her scalp hurt from the too tight braids. Aye, in two minutes she’d get her butt out of the chair.

  And undo her stupid braids!

  *

  Casey eyed the furious, black-haired beauty and smiled. He sat in the back of the café, peering over his newspaper. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

  The woman had actually done it. Followed all his idiotic requests and sat there waiting for him for an hour. She’d wrinkled her nose at the first sip of the smoothie, started drumming her fingers on the table after the first half hour and she’d fiddled with her braids from the moment she’d sat down.

  He regretted having her confine all that glorious hair in braids. What it would look like unbound. Was it long enough to cover her breasts? Would it curl around her nipples?

  He felt his cock harden. What the fuck?

  He loved Lark. It had taken him all his life to find the love of his life and now here he was lusting after a female! What the bloody hell was wrong with him? How could he be interested in Eileen Murray? And if she left now, how could he keep his promise to Lark?

  Shit, while he’d been focusing on his horny cock, she’d upped and left. He threw some cash on the table and hurried out the door after the elusive woman. “Wait up!”

  Either she hadn’t heard him or she was ignoring him for she continued to stride down the street towards public parking. The damn woman must be part greyhound!

  Casey increased his speed. “Eileen Murray?” He panted; the last few weeks of inactivity and boozing making him catch his breath. He could barely speak, much less hum the agreed upon signal. “I’m Casey Aidan.”

  The comely female whirled around to face him. “Where have you been, then? I’ve waited in that place for over a bloody hour!”

  “I know. I watched you—”

  “You watched me? You were there all the time? You bloody gobshite!”

  Still trying to breathe, Casey watched as she glared not at his face but at his boots. “What the shit!” Burning, his right foot was burning! He crumpled to the ground and tore off his boot, thankful he wasn’t wearing his army issue, but a soft leather pull-on. He examined his toes, stunned to find them reddened as though someone had lit a match to them.

  Someone… Eileen Murray. The sound of her full-throated laughter brought him back to his surroundings and gave him a target.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, but if you could only see yourself! I’ve not laughed so hard in—” With an unladylike oath, she dropped her book as the cover started to scorch.

  They stared at each other in silence.

  “What the hell are we then?” Casey whispered, and his voice shook with shock.

  “We’re Terran Fire Keepers,” Eileen replied in hushed tones.

  “And what the fecking hell is that?”

  “Come with me and I’ll show you.”

  She stooped and picked up the singed paperback while Casey put his boot back on and got to his feet. Although his foot still ached, he could only feel elation. Perhaps at last, he’d find out who he was and fulfill his promise to Lark. “I will if you do one more thing for me.”

  “Only if it doesn’t involve drinking an obnoxious chocolate mint smoothie!”

  “Would you unbraid your hair? If I’d known how beautiful it is, I would never have asked you to do it.”

  Eileen undid the wrapped band around the braids and ran her fingers through the twined strands of hair. Casey’s breath hitched.

  “Where do you live? Are you on leave?”

  “I’m on an extended leave. I’ve been staying at a local motel.”

  “Hop in. I’ll drive you there and we’ll pick up your stuff. I’ll wait while you take care of everything.”

  In less than an hour they were on the road out of Dublin and heading only God knew where.

  * * * *

  “So, let me get this straight. You’re not going to tell me a damn thing other than that we’re heading to Donegal?” Casey shook his head. “If this is some elaborate scheme to kidnap a Ranger, I’m telling you that I’ve dealt with more hardened terrorists than you and didn’t break.”

  Eileen took her eyes off the road for a second. A smile dimpled her cheek. “Oh, I’m sure, but I’d rather you hear everything and see everything at one time. Think of it as a holiday in the Gaelteacht.”

  He rubbed his forehead and smiled back. “Well, I’ve still leave left and despite that little trick of yours earlier, I’m pretty damned sure I could take you if I wanted to leave.” He grasped her slender wrist. “There’s not much meat on these bones.” He stroked her wrist with his thumb and felt her pulse race, then freed her hand. “And I doubt you’ve any armed combat training.”

  “You’re right.” She turned her eyes back on the road, a mischievous smile blossoming on her lips. “Ah, but you haven’t met Dagda yet.”

  “Dagda?”

  Her smile stayed in place throughout the remainder of their journey.

  Chapter Seven

  Manhattan, East 92nd Street

  “Gabe, I’ve found something and I need your input.” Brigid entered the office, the journal in one hand and one of Marty’s biscuits in the other.

  Gabe saved his work and swiveled his chair around, smiling at the picture Brigid presented. Dressed in cut-off denim shorts and halter top, she managed to appear sexy as hell and innocent as an angel. The toes of her bare feet were painted a bright red, her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she looked too young to drink.

  With a devilish smile, she plunked her curvaceous ass on his lap and planted a deep, tongue-twining kiss on his willing mouth. He snagged her waist and pulled her closer, one hand drifting down and clasping her behind while the other moved to close around her breast, kneading its fullness.

  She moaned and dragged her mouth away from his, gasping before finally catching her breath. “Before I tell you what I found, I just wanted to remind you that you promised to take a break and take care of your marital duties.”

  Her tongue-in-cheek announcement had the desired effect and Gabe’s smile broadened. “As you command, my little general.” He untied the halter’s big red bow that nestled between her breasts, freeing them. He teased one taut tip and smiled as she groaned even louder. He stroked the satin-smooth skin, trying not to touch the love bite that marred the flesh near her nipple.

  “Still trying to avoid the truth, darling?” Her soft voice didn’t hold any accusation. “I know you’d be more dominant if you only gave yourself permission. Why can’t you believe me when I tell you that I’d do anything you want me to do?”

  Gabe retied her top and shifted her off his lap. “I can’t take that chance. Look how I marred your skin.”

  “But I told you; I’d give anything if you’d take me like you did the last time. You’ve done nothing but avoid me the last few days and you don’t even want to talk about it. I might as well be talking to a wall.” She threw up her hands in resignation. “Well, since you don’t want to listen to me, here’s what I found.

  “It’s a phrase that keeps repeating at the end of every entry in the journal—even if it makes no sense in the context of the entry!”

  Brigid sprawled on the antique loveseat, one leg hitched over its polished wooden arm. Her shorts hiked up further and Gabe clenched his eyes, unable to admit that he’d heard everything she’d said and unwilling to face the fact that what he wanted to do was tie Brigid up and master her.

  He refocused his attention on Brigid’s words. “Are you sure that this phrase has no connection with the entry?”

  Brigid sat up straight on the loveseat. “Definitely.
One or two in a muddy way.” She grinned. “But not every one. Listen, see if you can figure it out.” She took a deep breath and recited the simple phrase. “‘When the three become four, all will be revealed.’ There, you see? It makes no sense. What three? What four? What will be revealed? Why do these things have to be so, so…”

  “Cryptic? Hey!” A sudden drenching reminded Gabe that Brigid was a Water Keeper. His personal rain burst dissipated as Brigid giggled. He grimaced, shaking his wet hair and sprinkling his desk. “How about using your Fire Keeper skill and drying my shirt?”

  Brigid crinkled her nose. “Sure you want to trust me not to give you a third-degree burn?”

  “You might be right. I’ll just take off the shirt—safer that way.”

  Brigid rose from the loveseat, stood in front of him and placed her hands over his. “Let me do it.”

  Her husky voice brooked no argument—not that Gabe felt like arguing. Not when the scent of her perfume went straight to his cock and the shadow displayed by her top hinted of her full breasts. Not when he had been going insane trying to avoid her during the day and feigning sleep at night in their bed. He grasped the chair arms and prayed for strength.

  Futile.

  Then her hands stroked his chest, heating his skin and he gripped her hands.

  “Don’t,” Brigid whispered.

  “Make me.”

  For one split second, he let her think he would let her go. And he did, only to pull her onto his lap, and thrust his hand into her panties. He cupped her, his fingers slipping into her core. His cock rose against his zipper and nudged her ass.

  “Take me upstairs. Make love to me.” Brigid’s hoarse voice rasped against Gabe’s neck as she nuzzled him. “Now.”

  Gabe scooped her up and the journal fell unheeded to the floor. He carried her through the door and headed towards the library. “If you think I’ll carry you up two flights to our bedroom before I make love to you, you’re crazy.”