by Elle Lincoln
I shrug. “Everything.” He grunts in that special way of his that endears me. “Your family?”
“Me clan. All gone.” His words aren’t full of his usual charm, but laced with finality and pain, which makes me feel awkward as hell for even asking. “I had several sisters. Three to be exact. Aunts, uncles, and cousins upon cousins. My grandparents were that old couple who cursed and fed yer belly, while telling a dirty joke. Ye would have loved ‘em. My parents would have loved ye.”
“I’m sorry.” I am, and I don’t know them and I never will, but I ache for the loss I’ll never even have the chance to appreciate or experience them.
“Donna be. It was a long time ago.” He stops in the middle of the trail to turn to me. He doesn’t tower over me like the others, although feeling small and cherished is something I’ll always appreciate. Standing with Patrick and looking up at him, but not enough to crick my neck, puts me on level playing ground. Even if he does out power me in the magic department.
“Time may ease your wounds, but their memories sometimes sneak up on you. Don’t forget to give them what they deserve.” I step toward him, as his eyes deepen with the ache of loss.
“What do they deserve?” His lips tilt in a small smile and I hope like hell his family was good people. Yet, one look at him, and I know they were. They had to have been, I refuse to accept anything less.
“They deserve to be remembered, especially if you loved them as much as I suspect you did.” Another step.
“Oh, I did.” I don’t know what to expect, but as he cups my cheek I can do nothing but lean into him. Letting my body feel at ease with this jokester who weaseled his way into my heart by just a laugh. “Before the Fae disappeared into the Realm, there was an uprising between them and the Tuatha. Balor’s kin got involved. The humans drove them from their lands. They died fighting. Died defending what was rightfully theirs and yet England still invaded.”
I can’t help but smile at that. England does have a bit of a greedy past.
“They drove us out. Balor was dismembered. We lost. All because humans discovered our weaknesses.” Both his hands cup my face now, his thumbs brushing over my lips, parting them. Heat rolls in my belly and his eyes glance toward my lips. Yet, he doesn’t yet kiss me, even though my body is craving him.
“What weakness is that?” My voice isn’t my own, now low and seductive.
“Fae cannot handle iron.” He leans down. My eyes close and my heart rate beats a steady rhythm, matching the butterflies that have ignited inside my belly. “They discovered enchanted weapons that can kill us.”
What an odd conversation to be turned on with, but as his lips finally, fucking finally press against mine, everything dissolves away. I forget the trials of the day, every little unburdened secret. Each of them falls away with each swipe of his lips against mine. My head blanks and swims with just his presence. Us. In this moment, right now, where nothing else exists.
I hook my arms around his neck, pulling myself up. My tongue dives in, deepening our kiss, and our lips lock as they tangle and explore. Patrick lifts me up, his hand holding me effortlessly. His scent deepens and envelops me in rich spices. Somehow, that’s even more intoxicating than his kiss. I’m losing myself in this man, deep in the forest surrounded by nothing but nature and the welcoming comfort of home.
Rough bark scratches my back and branches tangle in my hair, and I tighten my thighs around Patrick. Pulling him closer as I grind myself against him. My hand skims his suspenders, following them down to the edge of his shirt where I dip in, needing to touch his body. To feel him tense beneath my fingers.
One hand grabs mine as he pulls his lips away with a pop. My eyes flutter open to stare at him, confusion clear on my features.
“I had a purpose for bringing you out here.” His whispers skate across my lips with the taste of whiskey.
“Hmm?” Words fail me as he lowers me to the ground.
“It’s far too easy to lose myself in you.” His lips brush mine once more. “But right now, follow me.”
Why do they purposely tease me like this? Pulling me in and then pushing me away.
My legs feel even heavier than they did hours ago. Without him, gravity weighs on me.
“Oh, don’t be like that.” He peers over at me. “I have a surprise for you.”
I grunt, the sound far too masculine for the way my girlie bits are feeling right now, but I let it go and move on, following in his wake.
“Can ye go all misty?” I raise a brow at him. Where is he going with all of this?
“I didn’t think I was supposed to with the threat of the Fae and all,” I whisper, feeling like that’s what I’m supposed to be doing right now.
“No Fae, go misty.” If he keeps smiling at me like that, I’m going to refuse to go back without an orgasm.
Finally, I allow myself to fade from here. The Sluagh awaken and it takes all of me to push them back into safety. The last thing I want is to lose the rest of them before I get the other ones out of that damn stone. Patrick’s hand falls away and he jerks his head, I guess that means to follow him.
We move deeper into the woods, and time dissolves much like the mist I’ve become. The sun begins to set and casts elongated shadows upon the forest floor.
My mind swirls back to the thought of the worlds bleeding together. The rich forest of the Great Smoky Mountains blending into that of a Fae forest, with their thick redwood like trees and bizarre coloring. If only the forests could be merged so they would blend together perfectly. It’s easy to imagine out here in the thick of it like this. The Fae forest held no sounds, but here the world is full of life.
The pulse of nature in this world breathes. Inhaling the croaks and tweets of the lifecycle. Exhaling the inner turmoil in waves of lava and gurgles of gas from the deepest depths of the sea.
I wonder. If they are but two halves of a whole, do they miss the other? Do they intersect at points where no man or supernatural dare ever walk? From the highest mountain ranges to the coldest lands, and deep underground?
Perhaps Earth is the mother so many myths claim it to be, while the Realm is the father, housing all creatures as their children. And yet, they’re cursed to forever be a part until... well, until those children fuck up and destroy what they created.
That thought alone spirals me back into the present. Patrick pulls me behind a tree with one finger resting upon his lips. My eyes are drawn there, studying their deep pink nature where small specks dot their lush flesh. My body solidifies and grass crunches beneath my feet.
Look over there, to their tents.
His voice echoes inside my head and my eyes go wide. I go to speak, but his quickly kisses me and the words die on my tongue. He taps his head once. I’m not sure how this is supposed to work and these guys have really been holding out on me.
I find that thread that links us and tug on it.
Peep.
It’s the only thought I can literally think of and the mirth that dances in Patrick’s eyes tell me he heard me just fine. So, that’s how this works. I wonder if I can feel their emotions the same way. It’s more work than I thought it would be, though, consciously tugging on that link and sending a thought across.
Look over there.
I roll my eyes but do as he says. I see the tent, and what looks like a small moonshine operation. I quickly duck back behind the tree. My eyes are wide.
What the hell?
Don’t say I’ve never done anything for ye.
Is he crazy? And what the hell have you done for me? I send back, not sure how to proceed with this.
I got ye dinner and a drink. His smile is all teeth, he’s pretty damn proud of himself.
Then it hits me. I’ve been bitching about how hungry I’ve been, and not for comfort food. No, I’ve been ravenous for something soul deep.
Is this your take on a date? Sending him my thoughts is getting easier and easier.
Oh no, this would just be the appetizer.
/> I hold in my laugh. So you know these people are naughty sinners? I tease.
He winces slightly, looking over his shoulder at the site. I followed them out here last night. A man is buried under that tree, just a hiker in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I purse my lips. It’s all I really need to hear. This time I call the Sluagh, Patrick’s eyes widen then look down at me with respect. He nods once, then watches as the forest thickens as much as it can with the remaining Sluagh. They edge toward the clearing as a billowing fog.
There, ravens form with the deepening shadows that edge toward the corporal bodies of my ghosties. There, they wait.
Voices reach me with confusion in their tone. Footsteps crunch leaves and breaks twigs. Shouts echo off the trees. The Sluagh turn toward me in anticipation. I partially dissolve into the mist, but allow my form to be seen.
Two men greet my hungry eyes. Their potbellies and sweaty, slick hair describe a life lived deep in the forest. One reaches for his belt, to the gun unhidden there.
“Who are you?” The click of the safety being pulled doesn’t even faze me. The roar of the gun splits the air and the world around us quiets. The calm is deafening before the hurricane hits with its unforgiving waves.
I’m that fucking hurricane.
I don’t answer him. Instead, my darkness flees from me and splits into two to dive into each man. I’m not gentle and I make sure they feel me as I reach their souls. Souls oozing in tar and sin, thick from years of hard lives. No morals, no regrets. Nothing stirs in one. There, I yank, and pull, and his souls breaks away in chunks where I quickly feed it back to the ravenous Sluagh. He falls where his body will be fed to the forgotten and his name will fade from memory.
The other man though? This one has a small glimmer. A spark or moral that he holds close to his chest. He fought with the other man to not kill the man buried beneath our feet. I pull at the slick grime coating his soul.
But something different happens. The Sluagh close in, and using my link, they dive into him. His body doesn’t fall and his soul doesn’t perish. No, his body fades to shadow and the Sluagh pull back, stronger now than before. There, sitting on a stone, is a single raven.
“Looks like they are rebuilding in case you can’t free the others.” Patrick’s voice holds the awe I’m feeling. “Time for a drink then, Little Raven?”
I can only nod my agreement, my thoughts stuck on the creature before me. The one I created this time. He takes flight, only to dissolve into the mist with the rest of them. Gone to that split in the veil, waiting for my command.
Chapter 17
Bette
A Mystery To Explore
The house sits quiet and still when we arrive back. No lights shine from the cavernous rooms to blaze upon the lawn. No shadows of those I love dance in the moonlight. The house is cold and dark, haunted by the memories of laughter, of easygoing camaraderie.
Patrick’s arm slaps out, keeping me at bay. Our easy banter disappearing from the night as chills skate up my spine and hint at something very, very wrong.
Mist.
His soft voice echoes in my head and my nerves flare, not in anticipation but dread. Tears bead in my eyes, and no amount of blinking them away will ease the panic slicing my chest open in a threat to steal my still beating heart. I look to Patrick for guidance and find utter calm in gaze.
His whistle tells me everything I need to know, as he calls the forgotten to our aid. We are but two fighting against the Fae. Needing them to back down, to leave humanity alone. And for what? The destruction of their world.
I’d fight if I were in their shoes. The moral high ground is elusive, neither of us able to reach it.
I allow my body to dissolve into the night, sending out a thought to keep the Sluagh at bay. Patrick’s eyes plead with mine on silent waves to stay. He’s a fool if he thinks I’ll listen. Before I should have, but it’s only the two of us, and I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to him.
And the others? My heart breaks, attempting to cave in upon itself. I rub my chest, the feeling almost too much to bear. I reach out with our link, as adrenaline races through my system on the what-ifs. Chills race up my body as I reach out, with trepidation in my every move.
I close my eyes, and the sound of Patrick’s breathing is the only thing allowing me to know he is nearby as I move with him.
I test the thread for Balor. Its faint thrum dances off into the night. Casseus should be stronger, since we share the Sluagh. But his link is no more that Balor’s. Mac’s is barely there. My throat hitches and I send every emotion I’m feeling through the link.
How? How could this happen?
Patrick’s steps are sure and steady as we enter the house. Chaos greets me. The door is bent, releasing a heavy sigh as we push it open. Someone turned the living room over and the couches are ripped apart. The beautiful kitchen counter is split down the center and the table lies broken in two.
I race up through the house to the bedrooms above. They’re all the same, with broken furniture and no signs of life. The house sits dead. My body comes back down to Patrick and solidifies.
“How?” I hiccup, emotions riding me. I swallow them back, demanding answers from him. “How is this even possible? Wouldn’t we have felt them?”
“It’s late. Bette, we’ve been gone for hours.” He looks around and scrubs a hand down his face.
“My grandma. Logan.” I look toward Patrick in a panic. “Kelsie.”
“Calm. Breathe.” He cups my face, his words even and sure. “Push past the sorrow. You feel them, yes? I do.”
I nod my head. They are there, but oh so fucking faint.
“Good. Now. Yer grandma said she was going out for more equipment so she wasn’t even home.” She wasn’t?
“I don’t remember this.” I sniffle as the distress rides my nerves now.
“Said you did not have a phone.” He shrugs, confident in his assessment. “Kelsie wasn’t here. As for Logan?”
“He was.” I regret not linking him now, a move I’ll remedy as soon as I see him. “What do we do next?”
The question goes unanswered as a howl splits the night, followed by another. Though our relationship with the pack is new, I hope they are friends in this situation.
“Come on.” Patrick grabs my hand and leads me outside.
Once again, Killian steps free from the tree line, though this time I watch the eyes as they glow in the moonlight, their eerie presence settling on their alpha.
“Killian.” I step down to greet him and all of his nakedness. I’m not used to this level of male self-confidence, but I pat myself on the back for keeping my eyes north.
“Bette. Patrick.” His arms cross, and for the first time I notice the tattoo of a full moon on his bicep. Words are scrawled beneath in beautiful calligraphy, but I can’t make them out and I don’t think he would appreciate me invading his personal space. “We received a distress call from Logan.”
“Can you hear him?” This time I do grip his arm, his deep brown eyes look at me in pity. I’m not a fan of my actions, but dammit, I was seriously just getting used to these guys invading my life. Without them, it is too quiet, too somber, and I fucking hate it.
“Not right now. Just that they were ambushed.” Killian’s fists clench as he unwraps them to rest on his hips. Where my gaze is drawn but I don’t look farther down. Instead, I’m distracted by his size. Not that size. But his body is close to Balor in mass and strength.
“Ambushed how?” Patrick is asking the real questions here.
“The Fae fight dirty. Disabled them all in one go.”
“How the hell is that even possible?” I kick the dirt at my feet, angry with myself for needing a fucking minute and running off with Patrick to a goddamn moonshine operation.
“Tis the Fae, their magic is limited to the elements. They aren’t that powerful.” I eye Patrick who taps his nose. He releases a long whistle and walks to the edge of the woods.
“Noted.” Killian inhales deeply as his gaze shoots to me in an odd question. “Who were you with today?”
Weird. “The guys, my friend Kelsie.” We need a plan, not a fucking roster.
“This friend of yours, is she here?” I cock my head at him.
“No.” I draw the word out. Wondering where he’s going with this.
But he doesn’t go into any more detail just grunts. “I believe we can track them to where they fled.”
“Fuck, do you think they crossed into the Realm?” I don’t have the fucking Sluagh, I never fixed that problem.
“Very likely. If it’s you they are after, then they will lead you to them. Do you have the Sluagh?” I groan at his question. Monotone and serious, I’m not a fan.
“Only a fraction. The rest are still stuck in that damn stone,” I grumble. To Patrick, I yell out, “Where’s the stone?”
“Hush woman!” Patrick angrily yells back, his forehead wrinkling at my voice. His feet crunch over stone toward his truck with a huge hole in the side from Grandma. He leans down, reaching into the exhaust pipe.
“That’s where you hid it?” Disbelief courses through me. But I guess the best way to hide something is in plain sight. Plus, it’s still here. “Do you think they were looking for that?”
I walk over, my body heavy from the day, and I grip the stone in my hand, still unsure how to free them.
“Don’t know. It is possible. We’ve been guessing at their motivations.”
“That isn’t just Fae magic.” Killian leans in, snatching the stone from me. I didn’t even hear him move. Wolf? Hell, he’s a freaking jungle cat. Smooth and stealthy.
“What is it?” My mind is having a hard time staying on track with any one thing. Wandering down roads best left for another time and place.
Again, Killian sniffs the stone. Unconsciously I sniff it as well, but I don’t smell anything. He looks down at me with a quirk of his lips. “Witch magic. It should be easy enough to break. If you know a witch.”