by KB Anne
Maddie grips my arms, pulling me back from my vision state, back from Brigit’s shrine room. “Who is? Alaric?”
Tears run down my cheeks. “No, Clayone.”
2
High Priestess
Caer thought she knew who she was. After her shift into the swan and back again, she felt secure in her identity, but after ripping a portal for Gigi, and after Scott’s reaction, she was not so sure. When Scott wasn’t ignoring her, he cast glares at her more lethal than a thousand knife stabs. She savored the training Gallean provided them. It was not only a distraction but also assured her that she was following the correct path—that pushing Gigi through the portal hadn’t been a terrible idea. It was an act predetermined by the Fates, and Caer was their instrument.
Providing Gigi with the means to depart had allowed Gallean to renew Caer’s training. Her practice battles with Scott pushed her to master not only her skill but her ability to interact with the man who managed to leave her breathless—and not because of the physical exertion of sparring with him. Sometimes she regretted not having run a sword through his throat when she’d had the chance. That way she wouldn’t be distracted during her training. Love weakened the mighty.
“Again,” Gallean shouted, bringing her back to the present. “You must always be in the moment when you’re fighting. You cannot disappear into your own head or a portal.”
She met his sword with her own. “But I can create a portal at will.”
“That may be, but it comes at a cost.”
The wizard had jarred her. “What cost?”
“For every natural rule you break, there comes a consequence.”
How could a god, even a reincarnated one, break a natural rule? And if she could, why was it in violation? What cost was Gallean referring to?
“Gigi is in danger, isn’t she.” Scott pointed at Caer. “She put her at risk by sending her through the portal while in your keep, and now, Gigi will suffer.” His lip curled as he squinted at her.
Sadness replaced any longing she once felt in his presence. If her portal caused Gigi harm, the gap between her and Scott would become too expansive to bridge. Again she regretted not running him through.
“Enough, Scott. Caer gave Gigi what she wanted. Your sister was intent on leaving, and you are well aware that when she sets her mind to do something, she will achieve it.”
Gallean tried to justify Caer’s actions as if she was still a young princess and incapable of making her own rational decisions. But she didn’t need his protection. Not now. Not ever. She had needed him when Balor and his men set out to find her, killing Mathair Mhór and Nimblefoot in the process. She had needed him when she was starving and weak, surviving only because of the berries she found outside the cave. She had needed him to choose her when Scott and Gigi arrived early. She did not need his protection now.
She angled her sword at Scott in challenge. “Then fight me. Show me that you can stand alongside me in battle and not falter at the sight of Balor and his men.”
Scott pulled his sword from his scabbard and angled it at her.
Gallean rested his head on his folded hands. “Intense emotion can serve as a powerful ally while on the battlefield.”
“Exactly,” Scott and Caer murmured together.
“But, it will leave you weak after a battle.”
“Not if you win,” Scott growled through gritted teeth.
“Do not count on victory,” Caer hissed.
“You must ensure another enemy is not waiting for the opportunity to run a knife through you before you recover.”
Scott swung his sword in a high-arcing, exaggerated motion. “I’m not worried.”
Caer mimicked his action. He would not best her in swordplay. The sword and she were allies. “Nor am I.”
“So both of you are prepared to take me on when this battle is finished?”
Caer and Scott faltered.
Gallean latched on to the surprise. “Yes, if you dare fight in anger, I will take on the winner, and I can assure you that neither of you are ready for that challenge.”
Again the wizard injected himself into her life as if he were a great protector, an indulgent uncle of sorts. Hunger and cold were not desired treats for anyone.
“You. Do. Not. Know. What. I. Am. Capable. Of,” Caer ground out.
Scott glared at her. “Neither do you.”
“Enough. Both of you.” Gallean quickly lifted his hands into the air and flung them outward. A burst of energy knocked them both to the ground. “I will not have the two of you at each other’s throats. Your enemies reside beyond these walls. This bickering halts your true purpose and hinders your training.”
Scott slowly pushed himself off the ground. Not to be bested, Caer leapt up before he was back on his feet.
He rolled his eyes at her. “At times you act so much like Gigi, it is uncanny.”
Unwilling to relinquish her anger, she said through clenched jaw, “I will take that as a compliment.”
Scott slipped his sword back into his scabbard before shaking his head. “Oh gods, you even talk like her.”
Not letting herself be distracted by Scott’s softening attitude toward her, she shoved her sword into its scabbard for dramatic effect before folding her arms behind her back. “My true purpose is to kill Balor. Is it not?”
“Your true purpose is to join with Scott and Gigi in their protection of the human race.”
“Whoa,” Scott said, stepping in front of her as if to protect her from Gallean. “Saving the entire human race seems awfully drastic. I was under the impression we just kill the one-eyed Fomorian giant, take out a few of his men, then Caer’s thirst for revenge will be sated, and we can rejoin Gigi and end the Fomorian takeover.”
Gallean took an iron poker and pushed the ash around in the fire pit. As the coals turned red hot, he threw a few dry logs on the fire. Soon flames appeared. It was apparent that the wizard was withholding information from them.
“Tell us, Gallean, what else is there to know?” Scott walked over to the now-blazing fire.
“There are many pieces to the puzzle.”
Caer remembered the puzzles from her childhood that her nursemaid always tried to get her to play with. She did not like them then. She most definitely did not like them now.
“I am not interested in games.”
“Think of it as many different strands of jute pulled and twisted to eventually form a thick rope that a single cut from the sharpest blade cannot slice.”
Caer stepped toward them. “And who is weaving this rope?”
“That is what we do not know.”
Scott paced in front of the fire. The heat of the flames was unable to warm either side of his body because he was moving at Otherworldly godly speed. But really, who could blame him? Gallean had dropped a freaking bomb on them, and he was still in shock. For the hundredth time since Gigi disappeared through the portal, he wished she were here. She’d know what to say. Not necessarily what to do, but she’d drop a stream of curses on Gallean that would at least give Scott some time to think over everything, to be the one capable of acting rationally in the face of incomprehensible information.
Caer had been no help whatsoever. She hadn’t said a freaking word since Gallean’s announcement. Scott didn’t think she had even moved. A gorgeous marble statue. She had to be in shock, and that wasn’t going to help any of them. And if he freaked out and went all explosive Oegden power, Caer and Gallean would be on the receiving end of a Scott-sized tornado. He didn’t think the keep could handle that terrible force. He needed to pull himself together to figure this shit out. He took a deep breath, a trick he’d learned from watching Gigi, and began to slow down so that at least he was moving at regular human speed.
“Let me get this straight,” he said, finally moving slowly enough to feel the heat from the fire. “We’ve got Balor and his Fomorian cronies plus Maria, who might be Carman, and her werewolf squad. Who else is there?”
Caer
shifted to face him, finally snapping out of her frozen shock. Scott swallowed the lump in his throat. She took his breath away in the most clichéd way imaginable. Memories of their kiss still teased his brain (and other parts of him), but there wasn’t time for a romantic interlude, especially when he was still pissed off at her for shoving Gigi through the portal.
“Who is this Carman and her werewolf squad?”
Gods, even her deep, throaty voice was sexy. But again, time to focus.
“An ancient witch who may have possessed a girl and taken control of a local werewolf pack ever since their leader, Alaric, went missing.”
“Is she responsible for the leader’s disappearance?”
Scott stopped pacing. He had never thought about that. He’d been so focused on helping Gigi find Alaric that he’d never considered that Carman could be stowing him away for safekeeping for some twisted diabolical plan. Gigi assumed it was Breas, her scorned ex-boyfriend-slash-god-slash-Otherworldly estranged husband, but maybe it was Carman.
“Carman helped raise Alaric. She would have access to him no matter what her form. Gigi blamed Breas for kidnapping Alaric.”
“Breas?” she said, turning the name over in her mouth. “That name is familiar to me. Why?”
Scott only remembered flashes of Oegden’s life. He suspected Caer had some from her goddess life too.
“Breas is an actual god returned from the Otherworld, and therefore immortal.”
Caer cracked her neck. It was an impressive display of might. “Gallean, can he be killed?”
Gallean continued working the fire. “Anyone can be killed.”
If Gigi were here, she’d tell Gallean that he was helpful as always, but Scott didn’t want to be quite so sarcastic. Gigi wasn’t often able to elicit responses with her strategy. She relied on Scott for that skill set. He called upon it now.
“Is that something we should do?”
“Perhaps,” Gallean replied.
Caer glared at the wizard. She really did resemble his sister in certain aspects of her personality. Especially Gigi’s lack of patience.
“Do I need to kill him too?”
Gallean pointed at her. “That is not your purpose.”
She threw back her head and growled. “I’m tired of people telling me what my purpose is and what I can and can’t do.”
Gods, her growls were sexy too. He wondered what sort of sounds she’d make if he trailed kisses down her throat.
Scott, focus.
Gallean added another log to the fire. To an outsider, it would seem that he was disinterested in their conversation, but after spending time with him, Scott knew he was instructing in his own way.
“Discovery of one’s purpose will guide each of you in your journey.”
She whipped her body around to face him. “And how are we to discover this purpose?”
“By training and focus.”
Scott slumped down into the seat beside Gallean. “How did I know you were going to say that?”
“Because, at times, you are very wise.”
Wisdom seemed like an admirable trait, but Scott suspected that Gallean was holding back everything he wanted to say.
“And at other times?”
“You are impulsive and easily manipulated.”
“Ouch. Go right for the jugular, why don’t you. I wouldn’t say I’m impulsive or easily manipulated.”
“When it comes to your sister you are. She can talk you into anything.”
Scott would never admit that fact to Gigi or anyone else, but Gallean spoke the truth. When it came to his sister, he was willing to do anything, including form questionable alliances and engage in his own treacherous manipulation if required. To be blunt, he would do anything to get her back.
He glanced over at Caer, who was too busy studying the flames to notice him. Maybe he could convince her to rip open another portal. Gigi needed his help. The longer they were separated from each other, the more he worried about her. She possessed an innate talent for getting in trouble, but aside from that, it was his job as her human brother as well as her immortal one to save her. He would not fail Gigi the way Caer had failed him.
Caer shyly peeked at him, as if reading his mind, but Scott didn’t think that was one of her gifts. He would use her affection toward him to his advantage. He cared about her. In the Otherworld she was—is, he supposed—his true love, but in this form, his sole purpose was to protect Gigi, and he would do whatever he needed to in order to accomplish that goal. No matter who he used. No matter who he left behind.
“There are always consequences,” Gallean murmured.
Consequences were the least of Scott’s concern.
3
Werewolf Revival
WTF. Clayone is supposed to be immured. I locked him in Brigit’s shrine myself. Well, with the help of the cows, but still, he was locked away.
Exactly. Locked away. Not dead, Brigit says.
“Did you know he could have outside contact?”
I suspected as much.
“Does your throat burn when you lie? Because you should feel like you drank battery acid. Alaric’s voice sure sounded like he did.”
Very well. I knew he wasn’t dead, but so did you.
“I thought he’d desiccate and die.”
With all your magical experiences leading up to Samhain and in the days following, were you not told you are unable to permanently maim another living thing?
“Oh.”
Yes, oh. You imprisoned him, but you did not kill him.
“I assumed that the rules of my magic wouldn’t apply to Clayone.”
You assumed incorrectly.
“But he’s permanently imprisoned. I did do that.”
Maddie gently squeezes my arms. “Who are you talking to?”
My eyes shift back into the present. “I was talking out loud, wasn’t I.”
“Yes, but I only heard one side of the conversation. Who was it?”
There’s no point lying to him. Besides, I don’t want my throat to burn. Since I arrived in Ireland, I’ve pretty much stopped lying, and the lining of my esophagus is all healed. I’d rather not start again. I’m out of practice, and my throat tolerance is gone.
“Brigit.”
He drops his hands as his eyes widen. “The goddess? You speak to the goddess?” The wonder in his eyes makes me uncomfortable. He knows I’m the goddess reincarnated, but the way he’s looking at me goes beyond rock star status.
“Sometimes.”
“Is Clayone alive?”
“You know his name?”
“I’m a werewolf. I’ve heard the legends.”
Maddie always seems to know so much more than he lets on. I don’t think he willingly withholds information from me. He just doesn’t realize how vital everything he knows is. I always have to draw it out of him, leading question after leading question.
“Did you know Clayone is Alaric’s dad?”
His hands follow the knots on Granda’s table. I could draw every single knot on Gram’s oak table from memory. Granda’s is fast becoming familiar too.
But the cottage air is too dense for me. I need fresh air to clear my mind so I can think. I get up and start walking outside.
Maddie follows me. “Alaric never talked about his dad. I only knew that his father wasn’t around. But then, none of the pack spoke about their parents. I don’t know if anyone actually even had parents they could keep in touch with. Most of us were created the same way.”
We’ve never discussed how he or the rest of the pack were created. Gods know I read all sorts of werewolf creation methods from Carman’s book, and I saw the jail cells in the cavern from the scores of werewolf failures that occurred before she found an effective means to procreate them.
“Who sired you, Madigan?”
“Alaric bit me. I turned at the next full moon.”
All those times Alaric’s mouth had traced along the lines of my throat.
“He bit you? Tha
t’s awful.”
“It wasn’t so bad. We were young. He didn’t want to bite me. Somehow Carman made him do it. I don’t think he even remembers doing it. He was spelled or something.”
That theory would line up with Alaric’s midnight visit to my room and why he hadn’t known how he got there. He was really upset. He told me about other times that he had done things he wasn’t proud of—things he didn’t remember. He even mentioned blood on his hands.
I swallow, trying hard not to think of other things Alaric might have done when he wasn’t in control of himself. “Who sired the rest of the pack?”
He shrugs. “Alaric, I guess.”
After what I saw in my vision with Alaric’s fingers transforming into claws without the aid of the moon, I am shit-ass scared. I walk over to Maddie and squeeze his arms. “Are you able to shift outside of the full moon?”
He tries to pull away, but I squeeze tighter, my nails biting into his skin.
“No, no, we can only turn at the full moon.”
Touching him, I get a full read on him. He holds on to that belief with all his being.
I focus all my energy, all my magic on him, forcing him to either reveal it verbally or physically. I squeeze with everything I have. “Tell me the truth, Madigan. Can you turn?”
Wolf eyes flash before me. Claws protrude from his fingernails. Sharp canines elongate from his teeth.
He breaks away from me, halfway shifted into the wolf he was created to be. “What’s happening to me? I’m wearing the crystal.”
I reveal the crystal hanging from my wrist. “No, you’re not.”
I hold it up for him, and he swipes it back with his claws and shifts back to himself.
“How did that happen? I’m only supposed to be able to turn at the full moon. What did you do to me?” Fear seeps from every pore of his body.
“I suspect that Clayone and Carman found a loophole to the curse.”