Goddess Rising

by Alisha Ashton

Aiyana and Miko stood to Skye’s left, each standing at attention with hands clasped behind their backs and heads held high. Their military training was inescapably clear. Their presence was still taking some getting used-to on the part of the ancients. Miko was only a pup – not even past his first change. Aiyana was far worse still – a mortal, Asher, woman. That was basically the Holy Trinity of ‘not welcome at the faoil war table.’ It was unheard of to permit one such as Aiyana to be present for private meetings of the clan, let alone to be allowed to speak and have her opinion hold weight.

  Skye refused to be swayed by the bristling and discomfort her decision had caused. In her eyes, Miko and Aiyana had earned their places at her side. Age and breed were inconsequential. The ancients had yet to comment on it, but she knew it was coming.

  A few other Ashers were present in the room, as well. Along with Aiyana, the ones who had survived the start of this war were eager and willing to assist Skye’s efforts to bring her clan ‘into the now’. Despite the barely concealed distrust of several faoil towards the Ashers, Skye was absolutely certain of their fidelity. Using a trick taught to her by Sorcha, she had searched the energies of each of these mortals. She found them all to be pure and true.

  Doing their best to stay out of the way of the meeting that was taking place, the Ashers busily connected monitors and hung them on the walls on all sides of the makeshift war-room. The video feeds were linking Skye to her army – allowing Taran and the ancients to confer in real time about the progress in each country around the globe. Once construction of the den was completed, this room would be their nerve center – a masterpiece of technology. The Tàcharain Fhaol Clan would be able to utilize every possible modern advantage to coordinate their war.

  And said war was going well, for the most part. In the past few weeks, many tens of thousands of the blood drinkers had been slain. The trouble was that the vast majority of the fògaraich had since gone underground to avoid notice. Instead of operating out of public clubs (which a few arrogant covens still did), most were changing their methods. They were far more discrete in their selection of prey in an effort to avoid the clan’s wrath.

  “My Queen, Bratislava is now cleared of all known fògarach nests,” an ancient faoil informed her from one of the numerous screens.

  “Excellent,” she said with a pleased smile as she zoomed in on the map of Slovakia. “And where do we stand in Košice and Nitra?”

  “Two nests left to take out in Nitra. Both set to fall by the next sunrise. The last in Košice is being raided as we speak. I will send word of our victory within the next few hours.”

  “Very good,” Taran replied approvingly. His eyes turned to a newly-connected monitor and the face of another of his ancient kin. “What news of the battle for Riyadh?”

  Skye took a moment to marvel over her mate. For someone so genuinely against modernization, Taran was settling into the use of this technology with astonishing ease. The warrior in him could clearly see the incredible tactical advantage gained by it all. It made him instantly receptive to the drastic changes… at least for the purposes of orchestrating global, clandestine warfare.

  A somewhat exhausted-looking faol nodded on the screen and smiled before answering Taran’s question. “Cleared the last known nest just this night. We’ve still a great deal of hunting to do for the ones tha scurried away. We’ll be tracking the bastards down into the surrounding caves starting in the morra, but the city has nah lost a single mortal this past week.”

  “Means they’re getting awfully damned hungry,” Aiyana commented quietly and gave Taran and Skye a troubled look.

  Taran nodded in grave agreement. “Aye, fair point,” he agreed before turning his attention back to the monitor. “Ya lads take great care goin’ down into those tunnels. Ya’ve starved the bastards. They’ll be ravenous by now and more dangerous than ever. Do nah allow them to swarm your forces or we will surely lose many faoil.”

  Skye noted the exchange between Aiyana and her King had ruffled several feathers. She just knew that someone was going to take the moment as an opportunity to take a swipe at Aiyana.

  “Might I ask as to who we are conversing with there?” an ancient asked purposefully with a forced smile. “I was nah informed of another female in the pack aside from our Queen.”

  As quickly a Skye drew a breath to retort, Taran was already answering calmly and authoritatively. His face and tone were impassive. His eyes were ablaze in warning.

  “The woman standing here beside us – nah only at this table, but also in this war – is Lady Aiyana. She is Lieutenant General of the Ashers, trusted advisor to my Queen, and a dear friend to all the Tàcharain Fhaol Clan. She has proven her mettle time and again. Her words are greatly respected here. Take care tha ya mind yours accordingly.”

  Skye suppressed a smile as the ancients on the screens all shifted uncomfortably and began offering respectful greetings.

  Aiyana inclined her head in acknowledgement, but otherwise ignored them. With her posture still perfect and head still held high, she proved herself yet again by remaining on topic. “In preparation for the likelihood of this scenario, the Ashers have already accumulated a great deal of intel on the cave systems surrounding Riyadh,” she informed Taran and Skye before turning her attention to the ancient in that location. “We will send a 3D map to your men now. Please let us know if you require any assistance in accessing the data.”

  The ancient cleared his throat before thanking her as respectfully as possible.

  As the evening went on, Skye watched as their campaign map was updated accordingly. Each city that had been cleared of the undead vermin was highlighted in green. The locations presenting strategic problems were in red. The simple system made it an easy task to see where forces were needed and what areas they could be diverted from in order to assist.

  “Any word on Brandubh’s location?” Skye asked hopefully and waited as the numerous ancients replied via video chat.

  “Not a word here in Australia.”

  “Same in Cambodia.”

  “Nothing in Paraguay.”

  “Nor in Kazakhstan.”

  Around the room it went, all the same disappointing response. The screen before them displayed numerous text replies from the locations not yet set up to broadcast video.

  “Humblest apologies for our failure, Queen Skye,” one of the ancients offered with a bowed head.

  “No need to apologize,” she assured. “I know it’s not for a lack of trying on your parts. I just wish the son of a bitch would pop his head up already, so I can tear it from his shoulders.”

  Her clansmen laughed and chimed in with their agreement.

  “None of the brathadairean will give us a lick of information,” one of the ancients sighed. “He’s probably dug in like a tick somewhere, shakin’ in his boots, hidin’ from our risen Queen.”

  The planned extermination of the evening started off without a hitch. They moved in with practiced ease and found that the majority of the fògaraich had already abandoned the club. Skye signaled for her pack to put down those that remained. She was not needed. It was all set to be an easy night, until…

  “Taran,” Skye breathed and gripped his arm for support as the whispers began to stir. The familiar pain of a vision was building fast behind her eyes. She struggled to remain upright as the vision exploded in her mind, completely overwhelming her senses.

  Pups from her pack… Danger…

  She could hear their muffled voices…

  Sense their fear…

  “I told you this was a terrible idea!”

  “Can you save the ‘I told you so’s for after we survive this?”

  “You mean ‘if’ we survive this!”

  Her mind reeled in shock. Miko? Where the hell was he? He wasn’t even supposed to be out of the den!

  “I’m not even supposed to be out of the den, you tool!”

  “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

  “I can’t believ
e I tried to save your dopey ass.”

  “Well, you’ve done a piss poor job of it, I’m afraid.”

  “Do you have any idea how much trouble I’m gonna be in for this shit, Warren?”

  Warren… one of the British pups she had inherited during the merging of packs. He was young and impulsive, and apparently extremely stupid because the pair of them were surrounded by fògaraich.

  “Hello, there…” Warren commented nervously.

  “Oh, my… What large fangs you have.”

  “God damn it,” Miko declared in a resigned tone.

  “You so owe me for this!”

  Skye tensed up expectantly, knowing instinctively what her pup was preparing to do.

  “SKYE!!!! HELP!!!!”

  She collapsed into Taran’s arms as the power of Miko’s plea filled her thoughts. His urgent call was strong enough to drown out the vision. She clutched at her skull and gasped as the pain slowly subsided. Pressing her senses outward, she frantically sought him out with her mind.

  “What is it, my love? What have ya seen?” Taran asked worriedly as he held her upright.

  She took a shaky step away from her mate and gave him a fearful look. “It’s Miko. This way – follow me!” she shouted before racing up the stairs.

  The heavy metal door at the top of the stairway was locked. She cried out and gripped her head as another glimpse of vision hit.

  “Ooohh, shit…this was a bad idea.” Warren whined.

  “You fucking think?” Miko snapped furiously.

  She could feel the gathering of fògaraich pressing in around them.

  Through their eyes, she could see that there was little time remaining.

  Shouldering her way through the heavy metal door, she crashed outward into the dark alley with Taran and Ruarachan directly behind her. The alleyway was enclosed, surrounded on all sides by the rest of the building. Evidently, a number of the fògaraich that had fled hoping to escape the attacking faol had come this way. Much to their delight, they had stumbled upon two knuckle-headed, unprotected pups.

  The instant the pair came into view, Skye knew that it was too far. Even with their faol abilities, they would not be able to reach their pups in time to save them. She could hear their hearts pounding. She could smell their fear. These were her pups, her children in the pack structure. Miko ever so much more so than that dumbass, bad influence, Warren. ‘He’s adopted,’ she recalled Thor saying about Loki in the first Avengers movie. That was her precise feeling about Warren in that moment.

  The wolf in her demanded the protection of her pups at any cost. Raw animal instincts took over. Her power flared to life without hesitation. Her hand was outstretched before she even had time to consider the consequences.

  Taran’s eyes widened in realization when he saw the white magic emanating from Skye’s chest, rapidly growing in intensity before racing down her arm toward her outstretched hand.

  “Lads – down!” Taran bellowed in warning.

  With an earsplitting crash, the alleyway filled with blinding light. Miko and Warren cried out and fell to their knees as the swarm of fògaraich shrieked and began falling to ash around them. Skye’s scream of fury echoed through the buildings on all sides, reaching the ears of her pack members, including…

  Ciaran could sense it the instant Skye released her magic. He could feel it in his blood, in his bones – like he’d stuck a fork into an electrical outlet. His heart raced in alarm at the sound of her voice in the distance. He launched through the crowd and made a beeline for her location. His senses sought her out frantically through their bond. He could feel her fury and power, but also her exhaustion.

  Skye could barely stand in the wake of using her magic. It felt as if all of the energy had been drained from her body, which she guessed was sort of the case. Thankfully, her King was more than capable of supporting her.

  “Steady, love,” Taran soothed in her ear.

  She nodded and tried to catch her breath for a moment before speaking. “Miko… what… are you two idiots… doing here?” she finally demanded shakily.

  Her pup was too astonished to even attempt to reply. With his mouth hanging open, he stared at her. “Did you–? What was–? Was that–?” he stammered in disbelief as he turned and pointed at the decimation around him. The walls of the building were scorched. Piles of dust littered the ground – the only traces that remained of his would-be killers. “YOU just did that? Holy fucking shit, Skye!” he screeched.

  They all turned at the sounds of approaching footfalls. A dozen faoil, with Ciaran in the lead, raced out into the alley. Ciaran’s eyes quickly assessed the situation. Seeing no immediate threat, he rushed to her.

  “What’s happened? A stóirín, are ya all right?” Ciaran asked worriedly. She nodded weakly as he fussed over her. Suddenly realizing what was out of place in this situation, Ciaran spun back toward the pups. “What are the two of ya doin’ here? Did ya cause this?” he demanded angrily.

  In barely masked rage, Miko glared over at Warren. If looks could kill, Warren would have fallen to ash as well.

  “Well?” Miko prompted, wanting his name cleared immediately.

  “I… uh…” Warren began nervously. As if he had not already been intimidated enough about living with Skye and Taran (the freaking Queen and King of the clan!), what he had just witnessed had him shaking in his boots.

  “Dipshit over here wanted to see some action,” Miko announced impatiently.

  “And you?” Skye demanded.

  “I tried to get him to come back to the den before he could get himself killed. But then we ended up in here…” Miko admitted reluctantly.

  Skye scowled at them both. “Words cannot even begin to express how much trouble you’re both in… but I can’t deal with you right now,” she sighed wearily.

  “Oh, doon’t ya worry, my Queen,” Eògan said with a dangerous smile as he walked over and slapped his hands down on the backs of each pup’s neck. They both cringed in response to his crushing grip. “I’ll see tha they’re well looked after ‘til such a time as ya feel ready to beat them bloody.”

  Miko’s eyes widened. “Umm… Nooo, Eògan. That’s okay. We can look after ourselves. You don’t need to go out of your way.”

  “Ah, ‘s no trouble at all,” Eògan assured with a wide grin, tightening his grip further.

  “Skye? Tar?” Miko squeaked. “Aren’t I… your pup? Don’t you think I should be… ‘looked after’… by one of you?”

  Skye held her tongue. She suppressed a smile over Miko’s dread as he was led away by the ancient faol. Eògan was an expert at disciplining unruly pups. He would not physically harm Miko (at least, not severely), but he would most certainly devise some sort of punishment befitting the offense.

  “Skye? Skye? Come on, Skye!” Miko whined before being hauled into the club.

  “Well, hey – least there’s a silver linin’ to all this,” Ciaran declared excitedly beside her. “Ya tested your powers around others and none of our kind died. This is fantastic news.”

  Skye averted her eyes, swallowing hard as she leaned more heavily against Taran. It had started to rain, and the cold water was only making her feel even more weary. She was impossibly weak from the amount of energy she had released, but she had to stop Ciaran from reaching the inevitable inaccurate conclusion.

  “Not really,” she offered. “Look, this doesn’t mean–”

  “Ya can use your powers around the rest of us, then,” he declared. “Tha rates as supremely excellent news to me!”

  “No, Ciaran. No, it’s–” Skye began quietly.

  “Thank the stars for small favors!” he sighed in relief, too thrilled to stop rambling now.

  “Ciaran, that’s not what–” she tried.

  “Couldn’t have found this out soon enough, far as I’m concerned. Cuz I gotta tell ya,” he continued, “I don’t think I could’ve gone another hunt being forced to leave ya to–”

  “Ciaran!” she finally summoned the
strength to shout over his gleeful gushing.

  Ciaran’s brows drew together in complete bewilderment at the tone of her voice. She had never raised it when speaking to him before. He shifted uncomfortably in response, greatly disliking the notion of her being angry or even frustrated with him.

  “Please. Just stop and listen to me for a minute,” she pleaded.

  “Right. All right. I’m listening, darling,” he assured and did his best to appear entirely attentive despite the rain that was falling heavier by the minute.

  “Nothing has changed, okay?” she insisted calmly. She tried not to be affected by the way his face fell in disappointment. “The rule is still in place. This was just a fluke.”

  “But…” he tried pleadingly.

  “No. No ‘but’. It still stands. I’m not risking hurting you… any of you… with my power,” she declared.

  “Couldn’t we just–?” he began.

  “NO. We can’t. Look, I’m sorry, Ciaran. I know it’s hard for you that we have to stay separate when I use my power, but it’s just too dangerous,” she told him softly.

  His expression gradually twisted from heartbreak to stifled outrage, but Skye was so exhausted she failed to notice. Still leaning heavily on Taran, she started off toward the building.

  “I don’t believe ya,” Ciaran called after her unexpectedly.

  Taran and Skye both stopped and looked back at him in confusion, not understanding his words.

  “What do you mean?” Skye asked, hoping that the slight acceleration of her heart would be masked by the thunder rolling in the distance.

  “I don’t believe for one fraction of a second tha ya know how hard this is for me,” Ciaran said coldly. “I don’t think ya can even comprehend how much it pains me to leave your side when the killing starts – how hard it is to follow your command when, by doing so, I’m putting ya in unnecessary danger.”

  “Ciaran…” she breathed remorsefully.

  “No,” he cut in as his eyes filled with angry, frustrated tears. “I’m meant to be beside ya. Feels like I was damned well born to protect ya,” he insisted brokenly. He clutched at the soaked shirt covering his chest, gritting his teeth as he tried to describe the sensation. “Like every single piece of me is cryin’ out to do so. But ya send me away! Every bleedin’ time I bring up the subject, ya wave me off like it’s nah a matter worth discussing. And I’m getting tired of it.”