The Forgotten Trilogy

by Cecilia Randell

  “Get back to work.” Dub’s steely tones carried from behind the bar. His brothers shrugged and, sending her parting smiles, went back to their chores. “Bat, we’ll be about half an hour. Then we’ll discuss arrangements for your stay with us and... other things. If you’d like, there’s a small cold breakfast laid out for ya in the kitchen.”

  He sounded enough like the father earth, Geb, at his most disapproving that for one moment Bat wanted to stick out her tongue and stay where she was, simply to be disagreeable. But, she was hungry. She shrugged and turned away, intent on finding this kitchen and the food Dub promised her. Maybe she could get Shar to make more of that wonderful tea when they came to her.

  She located the kitchen on the lower level, the door tucked beside a small room with cleaning supplies and a stacked washer/dryer. She sighed. What was the world coming to that a goddess knew how to do her own wash? Or what a stacked washer/dryer looked like?

  The kitchen, like her room and the halls, was small. Cabinets wrapped around two walls in an “L” shape. A gas range sat on one end, and on the other was a porcelain sink under a window. An open pantry held dishes and cans of food.

  In the middle, a wood-topped island stood with pots and pans hanging from the underside and a sliced loaf of bread on top. Beside this sat butter, jam, and a small bowl of fruit. She inhaled, taking in the scent of fresh bread.

  Maybe Dub wasn’t so bad.

  She plucked a strawberry from the bowl and popped it into her mouth, moaning at the tart sweetness. So much better than the ones grown at home. She grabbed a slice of bread and spread butter over it, biting in before she was even done chewing the fruit.

  Wonderful.

  Licking a smear of butter from her top lip, she looked out the window. Expecting to see a busy street with rushing pedestrians, she instead found a small garden. Only a couple of meters wide, it spanned the space between the pub and the next building. Neat rows of green rose from raised beds. One corner housed a tangle of brambles, blueberries dotting the branches. Beside those were a few bushes with red berries.

  It was such a little thing, a small detail, but excitement moved through her. Did that mean she could have strawberries every day? She would do dishes if she could get strawberries every day.

  She shifted and craned her neck, hoping to see into the far corner. She caught a glimpse of deep red and pale pink but couldn’t quite make out what stood there. Disappointed, she moved away from the window. Then it occurred to her. She could go outside. She should go outside. There was absolutely nothing stopping her from exploring this new place.

  What is that saying? Old habits die hard?

  Her days of sitting in her temple, waiting for visitors, waiting for supplicants, waiting for the other gods to seek her out—to include her—were over. Now, if she wanted to explore a mini-garden, there was no reason she shouldn’t.

  Grabbing a couple more berries from the bowl, she headed for the door on the back wall. Surely, she could find a way to the garden from there.

  She reached for the knob, but a new sight drew her attention. A pair of boots sat directly before the door, too small to belong to the brothers. Made of brown leather, they had a sturdy sole, and blue accents swirled along the top. Shoving the berries into her mouth, she crouched down and ran a finger over the arch.

  Were they for her? Delighted, she slipped off her flats and pulled the boots on. They were a little loose, but with thick socks, the fit would be perfect. I should probably be wary of offerings and gifts in a strange place. But she sensed no curse upon them, no... geas—another word she’d picked up in the Idiot’s Guide.

  She bounced to her feet and pulled open the door.

  She was out on the stoop and about to take her first step down the short flight of steps to the alley when she saw the body.

  Chapter 5

  Bastet,

  The people here are very strange. They are gods but not.

  One of the smaller ones, a cheerful man who played the fiddle, was killed. I am going to help catch the killer.

  Also, my visions seem to be coming faster and are getting more detailed. You may have been right; this may be a good place for me.

  - Bat, the goddess who is warm but very, very angry

  BAT

  Bat sucked in a breath, one foot frozen in mid-step. It was Dano, the small red-haired man from last night. The one with whom she’d made music. He lay sprawled, half in the alley and half on the bottom two steps of the stairs.

  He was not a god after all.

  She didn’t need to check if he was alive, she could feel that his ka—his body spirit—had already departed. Tears gathered in her eyes as she opened her mind’s eye. Even his flying spirit was gone. It should have been here, hovering, lingering upon the air, waiting to reunite with its other half and proceed on the journey to judgment and the otherworld. But she could sense nothing of it, and there would be no uniting the parts. Just to be sure, she sat on the first step and reached for his arm, seeking any lingering traces of his soul. Sometimes touch helped, provided the physical connection the soul craved, and that kept it in the vicinity until the ka could return.

  No, the body was empty.

  “What did you do?” The growled words were followed by a harsh grip on her shoulder, yanking her from the body.

  Flash. Dub, standing on the prow of a ship. A fierce grin stretched across his lips. Behind him stood Shar and Mell. All were clad in leather and furs, the wind blowing back their long hair.

  Flash. Dano in a dark alley standing opposite Mell. Dub behind his brother and slightly to the side. Dano pulling out something small and partially wrapped in a light cloth. A glint of gold as Mell took it from him.

  Flash. A delicate hand, skin pale with a small trace of freckles, gripping a short double-edged blade that glowed with a dark light, the pommel of the hilt a serpent’s head. It slid into a belly covered in a deep red coat.

  Flash. The alley again. Green hair and light red, ducking around a corner.

  Flash. Dub, frowning in concern. A hand, calloused and scarred, reaching for her face, cradling her cheek.

  “What happened?” Mell’s voice broke through the visions and Bat blinked. Her gaze locked with that of Dub’s, his face inches from hers. The lapis of his eyes shone below brows drawn together in... worry?

  “Is that Dano?” Shar’s rumble came from inside the kitchen. There was no more room on the stoop.

  “Shit, Dub, get her inside.” Mell reached for her arm and she flinched, not wanting to bring on any more visions just yet.

  The skin around his eyes pinched and he halted, his hand hovering in the air. Bat didn’t want to hurt him, but she needed a moment to process the visions before any more came to her. She’d had more while in contact with these men than in the last century.

  She looked back to Dub. “I am fine. I wanted to explore the garden and found him like this. I wanted to do what I could to comfort his spirit.” She frowned, disturbed once again by the lack of a soul. “It wasn’t there. It shouldn’t have been gone so quickly, even without the proper rituals. It didn’t linger at all.” She turned her head and stared at Dano, lying there, still and silent, the red of his hair clashing with the red of his coat.

  The red of his coat. “Was he stabbed?” The words came out soft and detached. She shivered in the early morning air, but she didn’t feel the cold or the damp at the moment, preoccupied as she was with this mystery.

  Dub cupped her cheek in one rough hand and directed her gaze back to his. His frown remained. He’s always frowning.

  Flash. Dub, smiling with warmth, the lapis of his eyes glowing with affection. He mouthed a name.

  Bat’s muscles locked. That expression—the longing of it—nearly broke her heart, though she couldn’t hear the name he uttered. What was it? Why would she see such a vision?

  And why did she care so much about what made this man smile? It should matter nothing at the moment.

  “Are you okay?” His tone dema
nded an answer.

  She swallowed. “Why is his ba—his flying soul—missing? Also, he’s wearing a red coat.”

  “Dammit, she’s loopy. Get her back inside. We need to call the Ceilte Guardi.” Mell reached for her again, and she shifted back once more.

  Her powers were building quickly, and she needed to get over centuries of no practice. Fast. “I’m fine. Or, I will be.” She pushed to her feet, and Dub rose with her. Her shoulder brushed against his chest, sending a small thrill through her middle. A few things were out of practice.

  Maybe Bastet was right. Ireland would be good for Bat.

  But first, there was a mystery to solve. Was this how she was supposed to help? Dano didn’t deserve to die a second death so swiftly, with no judgment rendered, no chance at the otherworld.

  She tilted her head back and met Dub’s gaze once again. “I think I can help. But, first, can I get some more of that tea? It was very good. And I’m cold again despite my new boots. Thank you for those.” She concentrated on these small things, using them to steady her thoughts, and calm the anger that was beginning to churn in her middle.

  Dub glanced at her feet, his mouth thinned, and he nodded. Mell grinned, but it was tight, and he kept sending sneaking glances at the body. She peered past them both to glimpse Shar heading for the kettle on the stove.

  SEARBHAN

  Tea.

  She wanted the tea. Tea with whiskey.

  I can do that.

  He couldn’t make the body disappear or erase that sadness from her eyes, but he could certainly make her tea.

  Oh, Dano. What did you get yourself into now, you dirty old leprechaun?

  And what was he doing on their back stoop?

  Shar set the kettle to boil and strode back to the pub, grabbing his favorite whiskey from the top shelf. He set out a mug, the tea bag hooked inside, and added a dollop of honey, just as he had the night before. Three times the night before.

  Dub and Bat entered the kitchen as the kettle went off. Dub continued into the hall and returned with a stool from the bar. Setting it down at the island, he gestured for Bat to sit.

  Shar busied himself with getting the proportions of tea to whiskey just right. He kept an eye on Dub though, noting how even though his brother frowned, he was very much solicitous of the little goddess’s comfort. Almost gentle, or as gentle as Dub ever got.

  Interesting.

  Shar himself felt the draw. There was something about her, something that called to him even before she picked up the harp. Seeing her shivering at their door last night, he’d had to walk away before he pulled his brother out of the way and swept her into the pub. Into his arms where he could protect her.

  Protect a goddess? Now you’re getting above yourself Searbhan. You couldn’t even protect a tree. Admittedly, it was a sacred tree, and there were many people after the rowan and its berries, but still.

  He glanced out the window, looking upon his garden. It gave him a measure of solace, as always. Stirring the tea, he sent out a bit of power to the raised bed where the carrots were looking a little wilted. A hint of pink in the corner caught his eye and he frowned. Those roses shouldn’t be blooming yet.

  Another mystery, though not one as immediate as the body on their rear stoop. He raised the mug of tea to his nose and sniffed. Perfect. A small offering for his—not his—little goddess. She could use the boost a few offerings would give her. They’d have to be careful, though, the deities of the area could be territorial, and he didn’t want Bat getting in trouble.

  Turning to hand her the mug, he spied the boots on her feet. Boots she didn’t have last night. Boots that he knew didn’t exist before this morning.

  Another offering.

  Oh, Dano.

  Sorrow moved through him, a sweet pain. The leprechaun had probably worked on those all night, something to show his appreciation for the music and companionship she’d given them all.

  He set the tea before her and watched as she cupped the mug in her hands, sipped, and sighed, her eyes closing briefly. He wondered if she could feel the care he’d put into it. How did a goddess measure an offering? What was the value calculated against?

  And why was he worried about a cup of tea while Dano lay extinguished from this life?

  Shar ran a hand over his hair and down his braid. Unlike his brothers, he refused to cut it. It was his past, and there was no avoiding that. Why pretend? He met Dub’s gaze with his good eye. “Mell calling the guardi?”

  “Yes, he’ll stay out there till they get here.”

  It was a good plan, Mell dealt with them the best of the three brothers, but Shar could wish he was here to help with the emotions choking the air.

  Dub stepped up to the edge of the island and placed his hand on the wood top, centimeters from where Bat’s elbow rested. His fingers curled in and then flattened out. Slowly, carefully.

  Dub, always so careful of his strength. The irony had never been lost on them. The giant brother, born with an affinity for growing things, and the eldest who held strength unimaginable.

  Shar stepped back and leaned against the sink cabinet, crossing his arms.

  After another sip, Bat set the mug down but didn’t release it. “I can help.”

  He noted her slight shiver and suppressed the impulse to pull her into his arms. He could definitely keep her warm. Maybe he could offer himself up for the task? If she accepted…

  And now I sound like Mell.

  “How?” Dub’s voice was harsh, but there was an underlying grief for a departed friend. It never mattered how long you had lived, or the trials you had experienced before, the loss of a friend was never easy.

  Tilting her head, Bat peered at Dub from the corner of her eye. Her lips thinned then slowly relaxed. “The visions.” She licked along her bottom lip and Shar watched, fascinated by every small movement. “They are not as clear as they once were, but I was able to glean a few things. And… there may be more.”

  “Visions?” Shar dropped his arms and straightened, attention no longer on those lips. Well, mostly.

  Bat’s gaze settled on him and then bounced back to Dub as the sharp sound of cracking wood came from under his fist. A small split traveled over the island surface. She closed her eyes and took a breath, her breasts pressing against the weave of her sweater. A small amulet hung from a delicate rope of gold, a bright blue stone carved in the shape of a cow’s head with stars topping each horn. She’d worn it last night as well, but it had been hard to see in the low light.

  Her eyes opened and locked on Shar. Her chin rose minutely in defiance, but there was a reserve in her face he didn’t like. “Yes. The visions. They are diminished, as I am. But they are still there, as I am still here.” Her eyes swirled, and Shar could see a whole universe there. “For I am Bat, the unifier of the kingdoms. I am Bat of the two faces, of the black lands of the river and the red of the sands. I see the past and the future, and I help to guide the souls that fly into reunion with their pieces. I maintain the balance. I am the One Who Is Saved, and I have saved myself from all things evil.”

  Shar’s muscles locked and he swallowed. His blood surged and pooled in his groin.

  Then her eyes dimmed. She sent him a small smile. “Or, I used to be. I also used to be a bit of a fertility goddess.” Her gaze flicked to his pants and her smile grew into a smirk. “But, that was long ago.” She turned to Dub. “I am not an idiot. I know you are not mere humans. Therefore, you must have some idea of who I am. You said as much yourself earlier. So, yes, visions. I saw some of what befell Dano. Much of it did not make sense, but it often does not, not until the pieces are compiled. I will share what I saw.” Her expression hardened. “And we will find out who would do something so atrocious as to give that small man the second death and bar him entrance to the otherworld.”

  Chapter 6

  MELL

  Mell crouched over Dano’s body and cursed. Bat was worried about some nonsense with souls. Well, Mell was worried about the fact
that Dano was dead.

  There were two ways an immortal could die: voluntarily passing on to the Otherlands, or being mortally wounded by a soul blade—one of the lann de anam. Dano did not pass on to the Otherlands, which meant someone was out there with a gods damned soul blade. Which in turn meant a shit storm was about to descend on his small home.

  He reached for Dano’s shoulder and hesitated. The Ceilte Guardi—those warriors who elected to become the peacekeepers and investigators during times of peace, much like the modern police—would be able to tell if he touched or moved the body; on the other hand, he wouldn’t be able to examine the scene in full after they got here.

  Cursing, he stood and pulled out his cell. He dialed the number for the only person he had a hope of getting cooperation out of.

  “Cumhaill here.” The smooth tones held a hint of the arrogant war leader Finn used to be.

  “Well, an’ now there ya are.” Mell couldn’t resist layering on the brogue.

  “Mell.” Fondness mixed with not a little exasperation. “Hold on.”

  Muffled voices and a bang traveled over the line. A couple appeared at the mouth of the alley and moved on, pedestrians out on errands, or maybe getting in a stroll. Mell cursed and sketched a quick rune of concealment. Stupid. Distracted, he admitted to himself.

  Finn came back on the line. “Have you finally come to your senses?”

  “Never.” He injected a good amount of mock horror into the word and added a shudder, though Finn couldn’t see him.

  “Well then, if you are not after accepting my offer of a spot in the unit, why are you calling me?”

  Back to it. He sobered. “Dano’s dead.”

  Silence. Then, “Dead?” Finn’s voice grew smoother, if that was possible.