by Jane Cousins
“It’s not a coincidence, is it? The Pagan Priestesses turning up, with your birthday next week. Is it some kind of deadline?”
“Yeah. I asked Aunt Patricia to do some research for me. It seems Tir na nOg is a realm of rules. Weird, God rules. One of them is that a mortal born there cannot be absent for more than twenty-eight years. If that happens the veil between the planes is forever shut to them. Even with Aengus in the driver’s seat, the Vessel, that would be me, is considered mortal.”
“So you just have to survive through to the end of next week and Aengus will what… just vanish?”
The edges of Declan’s lips twisted up in a rueful smile, off set by one dimple. “He can’t die but I’m not sure that he has a backup plan. I don’t think a Vessel has ever denied him before. So he’s not going to let the deadline come and go gracefully. I’m guessing that’s why Rowan and her Priestess posse roared in to town in such a timely manner. Aengus put the call out somehow for them to come and get me… him, you know what I mean.”
“How do you fight against a Love God who has taken a sublet in your head?”
“Isolation.” Declan lifted a hand out of the bubbles and waved it at the cabin. “Once I’ve passed the final Enforcer test I’ll hide out here until I can convince Aengus the futility of fighting me or of instigating any sort of payback. And somehow convince him to leave once and for all. Find some ephemeral construct to house his giant ego.”
Darcy wasn’t sure she believed any of what Declan was selling. Who knew the man had so many secrets, and surprising depths. “What are your powers exactly?”
Declan’s violet eyes twinkled with mirth. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Yes, I would. We have a desperate gang of Pagan Priestesses trailing your ass, hurting innocent bystanders.” Okay, she was stretching that last part, she was hardly innocent. But none of the charges had ever stuck, so technically she could still claim that title. “A God making threats lives in your head and can jump into other bodies as long as the owner is willing to grant a temporary stay. How can you expect me to protect you, the Sanctuary and everyone in it, if I don’t know what it is you are capable of? Sure, I know women melt at your feet, and a weird breeze follows you around. And you back handed that lust spell the other day like it was no big deal. Is that the extent of it?”
Declan shifted slightly, sending a small wave of water Darcy’s way. “I don’t need your protection.”
Darcy chuffed a throaty laugh. “Okay, then how about my help?”
“You could just read my Enforcement file.”
“Now you’re stalling, I’m starting to get very curious. We both know the file on you is paper thin, written by big bad Enforcer dudes who check off your weapons proficiency and don’t see any offensive use in what ever it is you can do… so tell me.”
“Fine. From my biological mother, I inherited resistance to love and lust spells, potions and magics. The High Priestess is gifted with that ability the moment she is impregnated, passing it on to the foetus. I have an affinity for birds, and the wind that follows me around is called Aos Si, a lesser fae. Borrun, the God of winds, expelled him from Tir na nOg for being the runt of the litter.” Declan’s hair fluttered and he smiled, absently. “Without an anchor on this plane, Aos Si would just endlessly travel. He found me as a baby and has stuck around ever since.”
“And?” Darcy encouraged when it seemed as if Declan had finished.
“And, what?”
“What about the rest of what you can do? The love mojo? The women falling at your feet? You’re like the piped-fricking-piper of love-struck bodacious babes.”
Declan shook his head. “There isn’t any rest… I don’t have any love mojo, whatever that is.”
“But all the women.”
“What women?”
“The women who follow you around. Who take one look at you and seem to believe they are your soul mate. Who turn up at your house, in your bed, naked. Those women.”
Declan shrugged, he didn’t look smug, he looked resigned. “That’s nothing more than good packaging. I don’t do anything actively to encourage them or lure them.”
“You don’t exactly discourage them either.” Darcy groused.
“Hey, what am I expected to do? Physical violence would be excessive. And whilst I can often run, sometimes I just can’t hide, and they’re people too, you know, just caught in the cross fire thanks to my gorgeous mug.”
“And the Great-Great Aunts, Great-Aunts, Aunts and cousins who are forever kissing you and trying to get you naked?”
“That’s just family, you know how nice they are. And they are not trying to get me naked, they are just being helpful, wanting to mend my t-shirts. For some reason they get torn a lot. I order them in bulk, it’s no big deal.”
“Nope, I’m not buying it. What about your biological father, what do you know about him? A-hah, I just saw you wince, you know something, don’t you?”
“I inherited some kind of gene or racial memory from Aengus, so, yes, I know who my father is… or was. You have to understand how Aengus works. Over thousands of years he’s become something of a breeding expert. Picking and choosing from particular bloodlines. Chasing specific genes for hair, height, physical prowess. All in his endless pursuit of creating the perfect Divine Vessel.”
“Are you saying your biological father was a Vessel as well?”
A look of distaste settled on Declan’s face. “Yes, with Aengus in the driver’s seat. He’s a God, I don’t think he even considers the weird overtones of that, fathering yourself over and over again, in different bodies, sorting through genetic traits, all in his quest to be… the God of Love.”
“What happens to the Vessel, once Aengus is finished with it?”
“It withers and dies. Aengus takes ownership of the body when the child is usually around the age of three. After those nasty potty training years have passed. Spends fifteen years growing up, running around the Temple, being fawned over, creating havoc. Then another twenty-five years sampling his chosen Priestesses in every imaginable way and combination, and then it is time, to choose a woman, a new High Priestess and move on. Birth a new Vessel.”
“It’s almost like he kills them twice, the men.” Revulsion flooded through Darcy. Huh, she had imagined that she couldn’t think less of Aengus. The Gods, they could be such selfish pricks.
“Yeah, he’s a Prince. And he will never be happy or satisfied. He inevitably always finds a flaw, always has to move on. Grows bored. He can’t stop, it has become a habit he is incapable of breaking. But it ends here, with me.”
“But what will happen to Aengus, once you’ve attained your twenty-eighth birthday? Is he stuck here, on this plane, in you, always in the co-pilot seat until you die? And if that happens, then what?”
“I don’t care.” Declan poured the last of the wine, sharing it between their glasses.
“I’m surprised he hasn’t made a break for it.”
“Excuse me?” Declan looked perplexed.
“I get that you are the Divine Vessel and all, but once it looked certain that time was running out and that you weren’t going to give in, be an easy pliable mark, I’m surprised Aengus didn’t find a way to move on. Jump to someone pliable who was willing to hand over ownership.”
“Yeah, problem is that without the specific rituals cast prior to conception, any other body Aengus tries to take ownership of, it can only be a temporary arrangement, A few days, a week at the most.”
“Then I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to create a new Vessel.”
Declan’s mouth flattened suddenly, a grim look shuttering his eyes. “Getting some poor girl pregnant and passing on this nightmare, effectively sentencing to death any off-spring of mine, that has never been an option.”
“You must have to be really careful.” Gods were so darn sneaky, Darcy could only imagine the precautions that Declan would have to take. He probably had a three glove or no love rule.
“You have
no idea.” Declan blinked and the shuttered look vanished and once more those violet orbs twinkled.
Darcy eased herself out of the water just as the last of the sun was dropping below the horizon. Grabbing a waiting large fluffy towel she wrapped it around her shoulders. Her muscles had loosened, the warm massaging waters had helped.
All the while she’d been chatting with Declan, her mind had been spinning, seeking a way to regain her normal balance. And now the answer was obvious.
Her magic, her ability to lay everything out in patterns, her web, as she liked to call it. The only reason it was getting snarled and tangled currently was because of one contributing factor. If Darcy wanted balance, control and structure. All things her mental pathology insisted upon so she could function in a productive manner and not go off the rails, then she just had to remove one factor.
“Oh.” Darcy scooped up her clothes and weapons in one hand. “About what you said earlier, the sex and wanting it all? No.”
Declan watched Darcy twirl and sashay away, disappearing inside. No? No, to him? No, to it all? Declan started to smile, then he couldn’t help himself, he laughed. It had taken Darcy over forty minutes, and working through several tangent problems to come up with a response, and all she could say was, no.
She could have said that forty minutes ago. He was so in her head, under her skin, it was exhilarating and admittedly kind of scary, given all the baggage that came along with him.
But he had never let Aengus define him in the past, he would not let the asshole God of Love define his future. A one word response couldn’t really be counted as Darcy’s move, it was barely a blip. So the ball was still in her court.
He was more convinced than ever that she had to be the one to take the next step. He couldn’t force her, but he damn well didn’t have to back off either. She wouldn’t give in quietly. There would no doubt be scratching, biting and maybe the odd seeping wound or two, but he’d expect nothing less from his Hellcat. She was worth the fight.
He could only pray that she would think the same of him, when all the truth came out.
Chapter Sixteen
“Mocha caramel swirl?”
“No.”
“You sure? It has extra mocha, extra cream, just the way you like it.”
“No.”
“Apple Danish?”
“No.”
“Let’s see, what else do I have in my basket of treats? Blueberry muffin?”
“No.”
Declan chuffed a laugh, careful not to spill his plain black coffee as Darcy took the corner fast. “Is that the only word you intend to use from now on, no?”
“No.” Darcy kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead. She’d reclaimed Nell’s car from the hospital parking lot first thing this morning where Drum had so handily parked it. Swinging by the Town Square, barely braking to allow Declan to hop into the passenger seat.
If she’d had her way, Darcy would have kept on driving. Unfortunately, Romeo had the list of currently vacant properties in the area. The ongoing search for their elusive missing Incubus was proving to be all kinds of frustrating… just the case, not anyone else who may or may not be in the vicinity.
Focus, that was the important word here. She needed to keep all of her attention focused purely on the mysterious disappearance of the Incubus.
Concentrate on important stuff. Like why she was having trouble untangling the magical signature that she’d picked up at the Fire Elemental Altar yesterday? Why did whoever summon the Incubus here go to such trouble?
From the start it was almost like they knew someone would be trying to track the Demon down and had deliberately tried to obscure and hide all evidence of their own identity. The untraceable cashiers cheque. Using the isolated Fire Elemental Altar. Tainting their magical signature somehow.
Of course Darcy’s busy mind wasn’t really built for focusing on one detail, one case. A heap of other details and questions niggled at her constantly.
Why was Great-Aunt Rebecca continuing to duck her requests for a meeting concerning the Sanctuary grid?
Why did Nell’s car have to be so boxy and slow?
And why the hell was Declan so – Goddess, darn - cheerful? She’d turned down his offer of sex… all, what ever that meant, succinctly and with a finality that could not be rebutted.
There’d been no point in hanging around last night, she hadn’t even bothered to get dressed. Just used the Transportal to head straight home, her clothes and weapons still bundled in one hand.
And it wasn’t running away. She hadn’t been worried that Declan would be able to change her mind or anything like that. She just wanted to get her delicates in the washing machine and wash the chlorine out of them, that was all.
And okay, she’d tossed and turned a little last night, twenty… twenty-five minutes, when normally she slept like a baby. But that was only because she didn’t like unanswered questions. What had Declan meant by - all?
Not that she had any interest, she just didn’t like ill-defined parameters. All, sounded kind of encompassing and had a ring of commitment that was completely an utterly alien to Darcy. Declan had to mean something completely different… probably bordering on the kinky, knowing him.
Darcy had a surprising revelation upon waking this morning, the web having done it’s work while she’d been asleep. Given the magical mark she had, and her history with men, the fact that Declan was chasing her didn’t bode well.
He claimed to be attracted to her, but that just lumped him in with all the other self-involved assholes she’d dated over the years. Every one of whom had been more in love with their careers, making money, their sport team, their wild dream of fame, or brewing an award winning beer, than the idea of forming any short or long term attachment to Darcy.
And it wasn’t hard to tell what… who, Declan loved more than anything in the world… himself. And who could blame him, with that ass, those gorgeous eyes, dazzling dimples and knee melting laugh.
It had been a hard truth to face but Declan only wanted her because of the stupid magical mark that signalled she was off limits if you had any ideas of bringing feelings or declarations of love into the mix.
Which was totally fine with Darcy, she was out and proud about her thoughts on the subject of love. Anti-feelings, anti-commitment, anti-attachment and all round anti-long term anything.
And sure, Darcy was all that, but still… perversely, she couldn’t help but think it would be nice to be loved. Her ego could have done with at least one lovelorn past suitor, whose heart she’d broken, doing him a favour ultimately by rejecting him.
Instead of… what, she must hold the record for the number of times guys broke things off via text, disappearing to chase their dream. So long, no hard feelings and thanks.
She had erroneously believed that she had been scaring them off all these years, too afraid to face her… but it was beyond galling to find out that magic had been interfering in her life… her sex life for years now.
Just because she didn’t do love, didn’t mean that she didn’t want to be loved. See perverse, but Darcy had come to grips with the fact that despite her pathology she was still only human.
Which made Declan sitting in the passenger seat, all cheerful and not showing any signs of disappointment that she’d rejected him outright yesterday… annoying, aggravating, infuriating… disturbing that she even cared.
“How about a raisin scone?”
“No.” Darcy pressed on the accelerator harder, Nell’s sensible vehicle increased speed at a snail’s pace.
“Do you think these jeans make my ass look big?”
“No… what?” Darcy flicked a glare Declan’s way.
“Just checking you were listening. So, we’re now at two words, that’s a hundred precent improvement on two minutes ago. Would you like to try for three?”
“No.”
“I think your blood sugar levels are too low, if you just had something to eat… or drank the mocha swirl, I can guara
ntee you’ll feel better.”
“Shut up.”
Declan laughed but wisely didn’t speak again until Darcy pulled the car to a halt in front of Cousin Marvin’s place. He was in South America, at a chili growers convention, sourcing new spices for his ongoing quest to invent the perfect five pepper rating for his hot sauce recipe.
“Wait.” Declan instructed Darcy as she reached down to undo her seatbelt. Rolling down the window, Declan waved at a few colourful rosella parakeets that were sitting in a nearby cherry tree. Ten seconds later he turned to look at Darcy. “No one’s home and no one has been here since Marvin left.”
“The birds told you that?”
“There was a lot more extraneous stuff about wind currents and a fox, but essentially, yes.”
Darcy bit back a sigh, she was trapped in hell, it was official. Starting the car she headed back down the driveway. This was going to be a very long morning. Thanks to her restless night she could already feel her energy levels dropping. Losing those twenty five minutes of sleep was really messing with her equilibrium. “Where’s that mocha swirl?” It was her favourite, damn it. And there was no reason to be wasteful.
“Right, here.” Declan smiled cheerfully but surprisingly made no other comment.
Darcy would have laid money on him making a gloating comment right about now, but this was Declan, she needed to start expecting the unexpected… grrr, and there was nothing she loathed more.
Five more stops, still no joy on locating their missing Incubus. At least Declan’s bird friends were proving incredibly useful. Not only did they make it so they didn’t have to physically check out the vacant buildings, but the intrigued flock following the car were raining down a never-ending splatter of bird excrement on the two Pagan Priestesses who had been assigned to follow them this morning.
It was almost enough to lighten Darcy’s dark mood… almost.
As she pulled the car into the sixth driveway of the morning, all her instincts flared. Hmmm, negotiating the winding driveway, she quickly assessed the fruit orchards lying either side, their limbs drooping with ripe offerings. The small sized farmhouse painted white with blue shutters looked peaceful enough. And the goats and llamas in the paddocks that wrapped around the house looked content, barely looking up as the car pulled to a stop.
