by E.J. Stevens
“You know the rules, Torn,” I said through clenched teeth. “No touching.”
“You heard her,” Ceff said. “Back off. Now.”
I risked a glance at Ceff whose eyes had gone completely black. Oh yeah, he was pissed.
“Fine, fine,” Torn said, stepping gingerly away. “It wasn’t skin—I don’t think you could handle me, princess—but it’s not like we haven’t touched before. Remember sweetheart?”
Ceff stiffened and I shook my head.
“That was to travel to the Otherworld, not an invitation,” I said.
“Ah yes, Mag Mell,” he said, with a wink. “Good times.”
Actually, it had been downright terrifying. Apparently, my definition of fun and Torn’s weren’t even close to the same. But I nodded, a slow smile sliding onto my face.
“Ready for another Otherworld adventure?” I asked.
Torn’s eyes sparkled and I knew he was interested. Now, I just had to sell it.
“What do you have in mind, princess?” he asked, licking his lips.
“Emain Ablach,” I said.
“Ah, if you want to escape to a tropical island, I can think of better places,” he said. “There’s this one off the coast of Brazil where the women sunbathe nude and…”
“It has to be Emain Ablach,” I said. “I hear the apples there are great this time of year.”
Torn sighed and crossed his arms.
“This isn’t a titillating trip of seduction, is it?” he asked.
“No, nor will it ever be,” Ceff said, stepping forward.
“Hey, yeah, we’re not going there for the nude sunbathing—obviously—but that doesn’t mean this won’t be fun,” I said. “Just think of all the danger, the peril, the…the…”
“Fine,” he said. “You had me at danger. When do you wish to leave?”
I checked my weapons and nodded. “I’m good to go.”
“Excellent,” he said. Torn tugged a shadow from a crevice in the wall and pulled it out with a flourish.
An arrow buried itself deep in the same wall, inches from my head and I gasped. The fae assassins had found me, and apparently their orders were to shoot on sight. So much for a trial.
“Hurry up Torn!” I yelled.
He stepped between me and Ceff, an evil grin on his face. “Hold on tight. We’re in for a bumpy ride.”
That was an understatement.
Chapter 37
My first impression of Emain Ablach was that it was wet. Very, very wet. But I didn’t have much time to think about that fact. I was too busy drowning.
I struggled to swim to the surface—wherever the hell that was—the weight of my clothes, leather jacket, and weapons weighing me down. My lungs burned and my brain screamed at me to find a way out of this wet torment. I needed air, badly.
I forced my eyes open, salt and whatever else was in the water burning like acid, but being able to see my surroundings didn’t help matters. It did, however, make me glad for quick reflexes and muscle memory.
At the first sign of my assassin stalkers, back in a Harborsmouth alley, I’d grabbed one of my throwing knives. I may not be able to throw it now, not in this water, but the pressure of the blade in my gloved hand made it easier to face the grinning corpses smiling back at me.
There were hundreds of them.
Bloated bodies in every state of decomposition drifted at the ends of seaweed infested chains that rose up from the ocean floor. I would have assumed that the people on the ends of those chains were dead, a warning to anyone foolish enough to trespass here, except for the hands reaching outward and the curve of their rotting lips.
Grins like frightened, blue worms curled up toward vacant eyes. The eyes, or what was left of them, were coated in a white film and looked as though they’d been nibbled on by grazing fish. The chained corpses may not be able to see, but I had no doubt that they could sense my presence. Their hands clawed at the water and their faces were all turned in my direction. Perhaps they could scent me, like sharks on a blood trail.
Now that was a cheery thought.
I kicked away, trying to put more distance between myself and the grasping dead. I recoiled as my boot hit something squishy. Mab’s bones, I didn’t realize there was a chained corpse that close to where I swam. I did not want to touch these things or the chains that bound them. Those were visions I’d never survive.
The delay alone would kill me.
Heart pounding, I propelled myself upward, but I had a nagging suspicion that I wasn’t going to make it. I’d sunk too deep into this watery hell. Already my lungs burned and dizziness sent my head spinning like a ride on an otherworldly merry go round. My limbs were cold and heavy and I could barely feel the knife in my hand.
How ironic would it be to die here, within spitting distance of a tree that grew magical apples capable of reviving the dead?
Air bubbles sprung from my nose and I fought not to breathe. Inhaling water would mean my death. I made one more sluggish stroke through the water and felt strong hands grip my waist and haul me upward. I was sailing through the water, away from greedy hands and the hundreds of faces that grinned hungrily after me.
My rescuer was a strong swimmer and I doubted Torn would have gone to so much trouble to save me. I felt a tingle of energy zing through my system, helping me to hold onto the slippery tendrils of consciousness. Ceff, it had to be Ceff.
I gasped as my head broke the surface of the water, gulping air and choking on a mouthful of water. I coughed up phlegm and who knows what else—with those corpses steeping down below, I didn’t want to think about it—and pushed wet, bedraggled hair from my face. I was alive, but it wasn’t pretty.
I grimaced and pushed the floating evidence of my humiliating coughing fit away. Ceff had a grip on my jacket, still helping to keep my head above the water’s surface.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
With his wet hair slicked back from large, dark green eyes and his chiseled jaw, he looked gorgeous. He was completely in his element here, unlike his half-drowned girlfriend.
“I just swallowed a gallon of salty corpse tea and sea monkeys,” I said, a rueful grin on my face. “I’ve been better.”
Shivering, I took in our surroundings. From the looks of things, we were in the ocean about half a mile off the coast of an island paradise. The sun was shining, the sky an azure blue that practically screamed for bathing suits and lazy days at the beach. A light breeze caressed my skin, smelling of apple blossoms and something earthier.
I scanned the horizon for threats, but so far there was nothing but me, Ceff, and a tropical utopia. But looks can be deceiving—a lesson I’d learned as a child when my second sight came online in all its nightmare inducing glory. In fact, the corpses chained somewhere beneath my feet were a testament to that. I may not be able to see them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t lurking below, waiting for a chance to claw my eyes out.
Speaking of claws…
“Where’s Torn?” I asked.
Ceff pressed his lips in a firm line and ran his fingers through wet hair. The movement showed off his chest and arms and I struggled to remain focused. Damn, we really needed a vacation. Maybe when we got home, we could sail down the coast to a real tropical island—one that wouldn’t try to keep us as chained pets.
“Torn muttered something about this not being his quest, and cats disliking getting wet, and said that he would meet us on the island,” he said.
The scowl on Ceff’s face could fill volumes. He wasn’t happy about Torn’s disappearing act. Neither was I, but there was nothing to be done about it. Torn was a wild card, I’d known that from the beginning.
“So we’re on our own,” I said with a sigh.
“It would appear so,” he said.
“Fine, us it is then,” I said. I paddled in a circle, double-checking the surface of the water between us and the island. Nothing had changed since my last scan of the place. “So where’s the sea deity who’s supposed to
guard this place? Think we caught him on vacation?”
The irony of a sea deity hanging up a “gone fishing” sign make me chuckle. Ceff eyed me as if he suspected I may have suffered brain damage from lack of oxygen, but his words were deadly serious.
“Manannán mac Lir will come,” he said.
“Okay, then I guess it’s time to storm the beach,” I said.
The sand and palm trees in the distance looked warm and inviting. There were no gun turrets or razor wire, but that didn’t mean this wouldn’t get bloody. I eyed the distance to the island and grimaced. I was a strong swimmer, but I’d need to be physically at my best for when Manannán showed up.
“Think you can tow me along?” I asked, holding out the belt that was attached to my leather jacket. Being dragged along by my jacket wouldn’t be comfortable, but it’d be better than dying because I was too worn out to fight.
“I have a better idea,” he said.
Ceff clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. His muscles rippled and stretched, elongating and moving as a gray coat of fur sprung from his body. He arched his back, sunk beneath the waves, and reappeared as a gorgeous stallion—one with gill slits along its neck, just below the slightly webbed ears. He blew water from his nose and swam closer.
The kelpie bumped against my hip and I got the hint. Looked like my ride was here and ready to go.
I wrapped an arm around Ceff’s neck, allowed my body to float as I positioned myself alongside him, and swung a leg over his back. With me astride his scarred back, Ceff rose up so that the top of his body was fully out of the water. Only his powerful legs were submerged.
“Hi ho, Ceffyl, away,” I whispered into one of his ears.
Ceff snickered and, with a powerful kick of his legs, we were off. The speed with which we cut through the water was exhilarating and I couldn’t help but smile as the breeze and Ceff’s magic pulled the water from my soaked clothes.
I flexed my hands and rolled my shoulders. The leather of my jacket and gloves wasn’t as supple as it should be, but it hadn’t stiffened yet. The salt crusted clothes would likely chafe once I got walking, but I was no longer weighted down by waterlogged gear and I had only a slightly diminished range of motion. It was good enough.
I thought about what we knew of the island’s guardian. Manannán mac Lir was a powerful sea deity who could call upon mist to hide his movements and who possessed Fragarach the Answerer, a sword that could cut through anything and force the truth from any throat it threatened. I wasn’t too worried about the truth telling part—I didn’t plan on talking the guy to death—but the sword that doubled as a Ginsu knife had me shaking in my salt crusted jeans.
That’s why I reached for both of my throwing knives when a mist began to form along the surface of the water. It could have been the natural result of the afternoon sun striking the cold, ocean water, but I wouldn’t bet on it.
“You see that?” I whispered.
Ceff nodded and kept swimming. The mist grew, becoming so dense that within seconds I lost sight of the island. I had to trust Ceff’s sense of direction and hope that we were still headed the right way. I turned my head left and right, pivoting atop Ceff’s back to see or hear any sign of Manannán mac Lir.
Sibilant voices seemed to whisper through the mist, and I spun around wondering where our attacker would rear his ugly head. It was like turning the crank of a jack-in-the-box, staring transfixed, knowing that eventually the creepy clown will leap out. It’s just a matter of time.
All around the Mulberry Bush,
The monkey chased the weasel.
The monkey stopped to pull up his sock,
Pop! goes the weasel.
I tightened the grip on my knives. This monkey wasn’t getting caught with her socks down. I snuck glances out of the corner of my eyes, hoping that my second sight would give me a clue before the sea deity struck.
My skin began to glow and I cursed myself for thinking about clowns and jack-in-the-boxes. There’s nothing like childhood terrors to weaken what little control I had over my wisp powers. But when another childhood thought followed, I invited it in. Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, had a very shiny nose…
It was silly and outrageous and it might just paint a big target on our heads, but then again, it might just work. Or maybe I did spend too much time under the water. Either way, it was worth a shot. I focused on all of my fears, every single thing that had frightened me over the years.
Trust me. I had more than enough nightmare fodder to choose from. Heck, I could have alphabetized them and filled a multi-volume encyclopedia of terrors. Light sprung from my eyes and my skin glowed eerily, cutting through the mist.
There! Light glinted off metal, and I barely had time to duck before a blade sliced through the air where my head had been. Damn, this guy was fast.
Ceff dove beneath the waves and I held on tight, wrapping his mane around one gloved hand while I kept the blade in the other hand held out like a javelin—a very teensy, tiny javelin. I fought to keep my eyes open against the rushing water, using my wisp light to scan the waves for our attacker.
I caught movement to our right and lashed out with my knife, scoring the blade along a man’s ribs. I tried for one more backward thrust before we were fully past, but Manannán mac Lir brought his sword up to block the blow and Fragarach split my knife blade as if it were made of wet paper.
I willed Ceff to swim faster, but Manannán spun again and raced toward us, hot on our tail. We broke through the waves and I gulped in air. The mist was gone and I smiled. The beach was there, just meters away. We did it.
Ceff’s hooves hit sand and we went from a hard gallop to an abrupt halt so fast it had me tasting blood. But I didn’t stop smiling, not until I felt the sword at my back.
Chapter 38
Fragarach pressed lightly against my jacket collar and a whimper escaped my lips. The leather collar of my jacket was reinforced with silver mesh, a trick Jenna had taught me to prevent vamp bites and glancing blows, but it would do nothing to keep the sharp edge of that particular sword from my skin. If Manannán mac Lir wanted to decapitate me, all he had to do was press the blade forward. Silver, leather, and bone were no match for the magical blade.
I just hoped he had a steady hand, and didn’t sneeze.
I went completely still, even Ceff holding his breath for fear of the blade touching my skin, or taking my head off. I wasn’t sure which would be worse. I was sure that a named magic sword would have spilled its fair share of blood over the years. Maybe a quick death would be preferable to the visions that a mere touch would bring.
Not that decapitation was high on my list of ways to go.
“Who dares to tread the path of the silver apple?” Manannán mac Lir asked.
I wanted to quip something from an old Monty Python movie, but they didn’t call Fragarach “The Answerer” for nothing. I guess I was sticking with the facts and nothing but the facts.
“Ivy Granger, daughter of a human and Will-o-the-Wisp, and Ceffyl Dŵr, king of the north Atlantic kelpies,” I said. “Oh, and our guide, Sir Torn, lord of the Harborsmouth cat sidhe.”
That is, if the bastard hadn’t already run off at the first sign of trouble, or something shiny. Torn leaving us here to die was a distinct possibility.
Manannán mac Lir circled me, never letting the tip of his sword leave my throat. From the sound of Fragarach slicing through leather and skittering along the thin layer of silver mesh lining, I was going to need a new leather jacket when this was over. That pissed me off. This jacket had more scars than I did, but it was mine and it didn’t give me unwanted visions when I shrugged it on each day. Breaking in a new jacket was going to suck and the clurichaun tailoring bill was going to set me back a month’s pay.
I focused on my anger, grabbing hold of the rage and letting it grow. Fear may be a strong enough emotion to light me up like an overcooked turducken, but anger would give me the strength I needed to face Manannán.
The sea
deity had made his way into my line of sight, all eight feet of him. Even riding atop Ceff’s back, Manannán mac Lir managed to tower over me. He was a giant of a man with a long white beard that would have made him resemble Santa Claus if he wasn’t sporting six pack abs. That was no bowl full of jelly, that’s for sure. He had wide shoulders, a barrel chest, and arms the size of oak trees. He was naked from the waist up, except for a cloak draped over his shoulders, and covered in fish scales to the knee. I suspected that, like mermen, his lower half probably took the form of a tail when he wasn’t on land. It would explain his speed in the water.
“Why have you come to Emain Ablach?” he asked. “What do you seek?”
“I need a magic apple to bring my friend back to life,” I said.
Something wistful shifted behind his expression, replaced quickly with a scowl.
“If your friend is dead, then you are already too late,” he said. “Abandon your quest and leave this place.”
“Um, she’s not dead yet,” I said.
I put a stranglehold on the giggle that tried to force its way up through my body. Now was no time to lose my head.
Manannán mac Lir’s green eyes widened, white eyebrows reaching up to disappear into his hairline.
“Are you a Seer?” he asked.
“Nope,” I said.
“Then how do you know that your friend will die?” he asked.
“Because I’m the one her enemies sent to kill her,” I said.
His eyes narrowed.
“You would take the life of a friend?” he asked.
“Not if I can help it,” I said. “And if I can’t, then the least I can do is bring her back to life. Apparently, your silver apples can make that happen.”
He knew that I was telling the truth. With Fragarach at my throat, I was unable to lie.
“And the kelpie king and cat sidhe lord?” he asked
“Ceffyl Dŵr is my official suitor…I love him and he loves me,” I said. I blushed, knowing that Ceff could hear every word. Pesky magical sword. “And Torn is an official ally, though I suspect he’s here out of boredom rather than obligation.”
