Terran Realm Vol 1-6

by Dee, Bonnie

  He moved toward the stream and stepped into the pure water. Within seconds he was back in the lower domain of the Spirit Keepers.

  And ready to do battle.

  * * * *

  Tir’ nan-og

  “After hearing all I have related to you, I beg you not to withhold your aid, but to join with the Terrans above and rout this evil from the face of the world.” Mach took a deep breath. “Once Nolen opens the door, do you really believe that he’ll remain above? We will be next and our powers alone will not protect us, for the Destroyer has no spirit to heal or control.” His voice dropped so much that even the sharp-eared Terrans had to strain to hear him. “We have no Singers to beguile him.” He raised his voice into a cry for action. “Have we no spirit strong enough to fight to preserve what is pure and vital for the good of the earth?”

  “Yes.” A simple word, but Mach felt the force of its conviction through his body. “What do you wish of us?” The eldest of the Sprit Keepers stepped forward and gripped Mach’s arm. “Each of us shall give our strongest talents for this cause.”

  Mach nodded, too overcome to speak at first. “I couldn’t reach the fluichlari mhor. He needs to tell those of his tribe that they will soon be rescued and to restrain their hunger if need be until they return to their own domain.”

  The Eldest closed his eyes and opened his mind. When his eyes reopened they had deepened to purple. “The barrier can be broken with this incantation. You may speak freely to the fluichlari mhor after that.” A liquid string of sounds flowed from the Eldest’s mouth. Mach committed them to memory and waited to see who would offer his ability next.

  The eldest female stepped forward. “As strong a Spirit Keeper as you are, I can soothe the most broken in mind and spirit. I’ll return with you and use my talents as needed. Thus, you can turn to other tasks without worry.”

  Mach hid a smile. He had hoped that Sióg would offer her talent. She was by far the most expert among them in the healing arts. He stretched out his hand to her and she clasped it tightly. “Your presence will be welcomed. The lines of communication between our domain below and those above shall remain open.” He grinned. “Not quite as efficient as one of their communication devices, but less likely to lose a signal! Sióg, do you need to take anything with you?”

  She shook her head. “All that I need is contained in my heart. Tell me the proper incantation to reach the cave.”

  “First, we must make contact with the stream to ease the effort of the journey.” He held on to her hand and led her toward the meandering liquid thread. “Here we are and here are the words.”

  Sióg repeated the words after him and shut her eyes to dispel the transitory imbalance of traveling through the waves of the incantation.

  When she opened them again, they were in an immense chamber.

  * * * *

  Dagda gaped at the sight of the female Spirit Keeper. Her long, flowing black hair reached her knees, even braided. Her eyes were a silver so fair they looked like diamonds. The woman wore a loose, deep purple blouse tucked into a wrapped saffron-colored kilt. Her feet were bare except for a pair of simple leather sandals.

  Her beauty was greater than any female he could remember. Only Brigid’s mother matched this woman in perfection. Why had Mach brought her back with him?

  “Dagda, this is Sióg, the most skilled of all the Irish Spirit Keepers in the healing of the spirit. When she asked to return with me to assist in whatever way we have need of her, I welcomed her.”

  “Bright peace be with you, Sióg, you’re welcome to my home.” He turned to Mach. “May I take it that her presence means that the Spirit Keepers have joined our cause?”

  “Yes. They’ve already given me the means to communicate with the chief of the fluichlari. I’m headed outside to the stream that runs near the Cave. They’ll be easier to contact in the fresh, open air. I’m sure you and Sióg have much to discuss.” He strode toward the back entrance to the Cave, leaving the two elder Terrans in silence.

  Dagda cleared his throat. “Would you like a tour of the Cave?”

  She nodded once before she finally spoke. Her voice was like music.

  At first, Dagda found it difficult to grasp her words. It wasn’t that she was a Singer. Her words held no hidden compulsion. ‘Twas just the sound of a mature full-blooded female Terran. It fell like a balm upon his spirit long used to being alone, the last of his kind. He concentrated and deciphered the meaning of what she said.

  “A tour would be excellent. I have never ventured from my home and I’m eager to see the world.”

  He sighed. “More’s the pity then that I can’t offer it to you. My world is confined within these caves.” At those words, she smiled and Dagda thought his heart would burst. He found his voice and returned her smile. “Take my hand and follow me.”

  He noticed his hand trembling but could scarcely keep it still—until she clasped it in hers, and he felt the bright peace he had wished for her settle instead upon his shoulders.

  “Lead on, Dagda. I would follow you anywhere.”

  * * * *

  Sióg still couldn’t quite believe it. Before her stood the legendary Terran known as Dagda, the Good. Her heart clenched. He was better than good. He was perfection. She tried to contain the shock that raced through her when their hands had touched but it was difficult. Her Spirit sensed the weariness in Dagda but also the need for physical contact that went beyond mere handholding. What Dagda needed was a good joining.

  She let her hand rest in his grasp and trailed behind. They went from chamber to chamber, Dagda never unclasping her hand, even as Sióg sensed that his need for her increased. He led her to the mouth of the Cave and there, for a moment, he released her fingers.

  “This is as far as I can go. Do you wish to explore further, you’d need must wait for one of the others to guide you.”

  Sióg peeked out, longing to explore the outer world, the above place, but couldn’t bear to enjoy something she was unable to share with him. “Perhaps later. Is this the end of the tour?”

  Dagda caught his breath, then nodded.

  Sióg narrowed her gaze. “Are you sure?” He nodded again. “Where do you sleep?”

  “I’ve moved back into a small room just off the chamber you first entered. ‘Tis not much.”

  “Let me be the judge.”

  He dipped his head. “As you wish, though I doubt you’ll find anything of worth there.”

  She fisted her hips and tapped her foot. “Are you hiding some great treasure chest? Or is it something far worse? Did you leave your sleeping pallet unmade?”

  Laughter burst from his throat. Sióg clapped her hands and smiled to see Dagda rejoice.

  * * * *

  Sióg took in at a glance the compact room in which Dagda slept. He hadn’t lied. It was small, but he had neglected to mention the silence spell that served to isolate it from the rest of the Cave. Once within the chamber, a hush fell upon it. No sound would escape from it, nor could any sound enter.

  She sank onto the neatly made cot and eyed the feminine touches that lingered. A vase of flowers gave off a delicate fragrance and a colorful coverlet lay folded at the foot of the cot. A woman had lived here recently. Who? “I know you couldn’t have picked these flowers. Who did?”

  Dagda bent and sniffed at the rainbow bouquet. “Eileen, the first Terran-mheasctha to return to us. Although she moved out recently to share living quarters with Casey—another of the Terran-mheasctha—and Mach.” He chuckled softly. “Machnamh as you know him. Here, he’s been renamed. ‘Tis a human habit, a sign of affection.”

  Sióg inclined her head. “A lovely custom.” And she rose with a lithe movement and joined Dagda at the flowers. “And do you follow this custom?”

  She drew near enough so that her warm breath brushed against his skin and she laid her hand on top of his as it rested upon the table. The contrast between her smooth, pale palm against his tanned flesh was startling. She held her breath and waited fo
r his answer. Sióg leaned against his arm and felt him tremble.

  “Tell me, what would you call me, Dagda? What sign of affection would you choose?” Dagda gripped the edge of the table with his free hand. “Please answer me. I want to know.”

  Dagda dragged breath into his lungs. “I would have to give you a new name entirely.”

  “Oh?”

  “To call you Sí would confuse the others who speak the English language. The word Sí sounds like the word indicating an impersonal feminine grammatical term. You are anything but impersonal, though you are most decidedly feminine.” He managed a croaking laugh, slipped his hand from beneath hers and moved away.

  The female Spirit Keeper joined her laughter to his. For now she would not press Dagda, but she knew that he needed the surcease of loneliness that she could offer him.

  When the time came, she would be ready.

  * * * *

  Greenwich Village, New York City

  “I understand, Ethan. I have the file with the melodies and I read all the information you and the Irish Terrans sent. I’ll be ready. Don’t worry. Kol b’seder. If I can safely contact you, I will. Lilah tov, chaverti.” Good night, my friend.

  Aviva scanned all the updated information. There was a lot to absorb. She ran her fingers through her hair, tangling her rings in the curls. “Ouch! When will I remember to take off my jewelry when I am as agitated as this?”

  A meow and a soft pat on her ankle distracted her. Khat obviously needed a hug so she bent and scooped him up, cuddling him in her embrace. “So, Khat, what are my chances of success? Shall I find out where Nolen has imprisoned the fluichlari? Shall I uncover his darkest secrets? What about James and the Foley woman? Are they involved in everything Nolen is doing, and if so, has he compelled them with his Speaker ability or are they willing accomplices?” Aviva hugged him tighter. “And if I find out all this, will I live to tell anyone?”

  A rough tongue licked her chin and stroked her neck, offering comfort.

  “Todah, chaverti. Thank you, my friend.”

  * * * *

  Boynton, New York

  “Remember, James, she is my guest. Mine. I will not be available until the evening. Keep her occupied and happy.” Nolen grimaced in what passed for a smile. “I want her visit to be a complete success.”

  Nolen waited until James made his silent escape from the study before checking the crystal prison. He set the bowl on the desk and removed his ceremonial dagger from its hiding place.

  And slit his forearm from elbow to wrist.

  He clenched and released his fist, urging the blood to flow through his veins and well from the slash. Using great care, he unclasped the lid, and drop by precious drop, fed the water demons. They had become more voracious daily, demanding more of his blood at each feeding. When the sacrificial day arrived, they would drain the blood of everything with which they came in contact. He smiled, resealed the crystal and replaced it in its hiding place.

  He turned to the PC and opened the new file James had put together that indicated his progress in manning the various locations around the world for the coming sacrifices. He was pleased. Thus far, James had matched the individuals with their tasks, whether it was to simply release the fluichlari or to take the life of a human sacrifice.

  Each had been offered the specific payment guaranteed to assure compliance. When the time came, a special prerecorded message would be heard by the participants, giving him or her the signal to accomplish their task—and then each one would kill themselves in some accidental manner like stepping in front of a car or falling down several flights of stairs. immediately after. An additional surety to leave no loose ends.

  Nolen stared at the screen, satisfied that he had chosen the right man for the job. Should he let James live? Could he let him live? At the core of the human was an innocence he could not sully, try as he might. He would have to leave James enthralled by his Speaker talents for the rest of his short, human life.

  Would he grow tired of James’ blind worship? He sighed. He still had time to decide.

  He closed the file and turned to more mundane matters. Lorraine’s menu was superb. Wisely, she had hired some additional daily serving help for the length of Viv Shiron’s visit. Lorraine had flown into a rage when he had insisted that she join them for meals and all of the activities James had arranged for the alluring singer. Just as he had expected, Lorraine had gone mad at the prospect.

  He bared his teeth as he contemplated Lorraine’s frustration and envy. The woman continually needed to be put in her place … and he so enjoyed doing so.

  He gazed out the window at the lush grounds. In the distance he could see the sacred grove he’d had planted as soon as he’d bought the property. Rather than wait for saplings to mature, he had insisted that the landscapers plant established trees.

  Nolen rose from his chair. A stroll through the circle of trees should revitalize him. Visiting the sacrificial altar upon which Lorraine’s lush body would burn would serve to get him in the mood for his plans for the weekend to come.

  Soon his body would be the altar upon which the lovely Viv would sacrifice her ardor. His cock rose at the thought. The woman would have no say in this. But perhaps she would bed him willingly.

  That would be sweet, and another thing to throw in Lorraine’s face. He opened the door from the study to the outside and set off to the grove at a brisk pace.

  * * * *

  Aviva relaxed on the ride up to Nolen’s estate. The location was known to her so there was no need to observe the route. She had decided against bringing her guitar. The separation afforded by striking the ivory keys of a piano rather than directly plucking the guitar strings would lessen the affect of the melodies.

  Aviva prayed that Nolen wouldn’t realize that she was a Terran. Being isolated as long as he had from other Terrans surely would decrease his ability to recognize one of his own. One of his own. A sour taste grew in her mouth. Destroyers were an abomination. Throughout history there were those who allied with evil demons and perverted humans and she relished the chance to foil the plans of such a one.

  She stiffened her shoulders and sat up in the back seat. If necessary, she would use every weapon at her command to defeat Nolen. No matter the cost.

  * * * *

  “Viv! So happy to see you. Did you enjoy your ride? Unfortunately Mr. Lowery won’t be joining us until dinner this evening. However, we have a wonderful lunch and, as soon as you’re all set in your room and refreshed, I can give you the fifty-cent tour.” James grinned. “Mr. Lowery gives the ten-dollar one. Let me see to the driver. Ricky did offer you beverages and snacks, I hope?”

  Aviva smiled. “He was an excellent driver. I had no wish for any refreshments. I’m sorry that Mr. Lowery won’t be joining us till later. I was looking forward to meeting him.”

  “As was he, but you know, business. Mr. Lowery takes a personal interest in all his affairs and just couldn’t be pried away.” James gripped Aviva’s overnight suitcase and her garment bag. “I’ll have one of the servants take this to your room. Just follow me inside.” He smiled over his shoulder. “You’ll never have seen a foyer as exquisite as Arven’s, that is to say, Mr. Lowery’s.”

  Aviva noted the little slip. James had appeared to her to be very formal. Calling his boss by his first name denoted a familiarity that was out of the ordinary. Her heart sank. Perhaps the men were correct. Perhaps James was a willing accomplice, so enamored of Nolen that he would do his bidding without regret.

  Aviva hurried after James, catching up with him just inside the door. He stood to the side, admiring the beauty of the elaborate entry then turned and gestured to the area before them, waiting for her response.

  Time to go into her act. She widened her eyes and slowly took in the art—probably stolen—plush carpets—probably ransacked from some harem—and the unsmiling face of an alluring female standing at the foot of the main staircase—a woman she recognized immediately. Lorraine Foley.

/>   Here there was no murky aura like James’. No confusion like the eager young man awaiting her approval. The woman’s aura was a green so dark it appeared black. Sexual depravity and savagery colored it. Crimson edged the sickly color and Aviva knew that some violence had occurred not that long ago with this woman as a participant. Her personality overwhelmed James’.

  Aviva gathered her thoughts, focusing on James, and smiled. “Quite impressive. Mr. Lowery has wonderful taste.” Next, she shifted her gaze back to the female still standing as immobile as a statue. “May I be introduced, James? Please say you are Mr. Lowery’s wife and you’ll be joining us.”

  Lorraine’s lips curled as if she had tasted something vile. As she opened her mouth to reply, James jumped in. “Please excuse my bad manners. This is Lorraine Foley, Mr. Lowery’s private chef and housekeeper. She’ll be joining us at lunch.”

  “I will not! Arven did not say I had to sit at the table with this woman unless he was there too. I have work to do, unlike others I know. Make yourself useful, James, and bring her bags up and show her to her room.” The irate woman made an about face and stalked off toward the kitchen, leaving in her wake an uncomfortable silence.

  James spoke up first. “I hope you’ll excuse Lorraine. She’s rather possessive of Arven—Mr. Lowery—and doesn’t like change in the routine. I’ll carry your luggage as she suggested and see you to your door. Just come down when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting here in the hall.” His lips twitched in a smile of self-deprecation. “I really don’t have anything on my agenda today. Arven wished me to devote my time to you.”

  This time, James didn’t notice his slip, and Aviva refrained from pointing it out.

  * * * *

  “The house is so beautiful, James. Can we stroll through the grounds for a while?”

  “Of course. Arv—” He shrugged his shoulders. “I might as well confess. Mr. Lowery and I are like … uncle and nephew. He allows me to call him by his first name.”

  Aviva smiled. “Quite all right. I understand.” Probably more than you realize.

  They examined the formal gardens and the herb and vegetable ones.