The Forgotten Trilogy

by Cecilia Randell

  “So, ye’re the goddess who plays the precious harp, are ye?”

  The man’s breath was even worse than his general body odor, and Bat waved a hand in front of her nose. “I do believe I am.”

  The man leaned in closer, and Bat resisted the urge to back away. She would not give ground to this disgusting thing. “Will ye play a tune fer me if I give ye a sweet reward?”

  “Neall.” Dub speared the man with a sharp look. “Back off. She’ll not be making any deals with ya.”

  The foul man, Neall, shrugged and wandered to the other end of the bar, skimming over the crowd with his red eyes.

  Dub tapped the bar, pulling her gaze back to him. “Careful with this lot. They like to make deals, and ye’re a visiting goddess who may not know the rules.”

  “I think the rules of supplication and rewards are the same in all places.”

  He raised a brow. “Not for the fae, little goddess. Just watch yerself.” He moved back down the bar and pulled another pint, placing it in front of a small man who had a bit of the look of Dano. Another leprechaun?

  She eased up onto a stool and surveyed the room. It was a good night. She enjoyed the laughter and song, all in tribute for a man they had once known and was now gone.

  She decided this was a practice her own people should adopt. She would tell...

  The front door clicked open. Wasn’t that supposed to be locked...?

  A darkness flowed through the pub, obscuring her sight of what stood on the threshold. Bat reached out, but it wasn’t a... bad darkness. It was actually quite soothing, like the end of the day, when it was time to lay down to rest, or the end of a life well lived. Bat smiled into the darkness and greeted it.

  “Do not even presume to greet me thus in my own land.” A cold voice sliced through the darkness, disbursing it.

  The woman who stood there towered over most of the men, standing as tall as Dub, still behind the bar. In fact, the only one taller was Shar. Bat’s gaze drifted to where the giant stood against the wall, frozen in place. She sought out Dub and then Mell. Both stood still as stone. A quick survey of their patrons yielded the same results. What...?

  Then she saw that their chests still moved, fingers twitched, and eyes darted. They were simply frozen in... a tendril of emotion reached her from Mell: fear, caution and a warning.

  But this goddess did not feel evil, not like the encounter from earlier. How could they be so frightened?

  The new goddess glided through the crowd, and patrons scurried out of her way as she approached. She halted before Bat and flicked her head, sending the wild waves of her midnight hair flying over her shoulder in a cloud. Her pale skin stood out against the black of her coat and the blood red of her lips.

  Bat’s lips twitched. Some goddesses could be so... dramatic. This one reminded her of Isis, imperious and assured, but with a hidden warmth.

  Then she spoke. “I am the Morrigan. And you have trespassed.” The voice remained cold, but something, some wariness, underlay it.

  Bat wondered if anyone else could hear it. She tilted her head and studied the woman before her. Regardless of all that, it was only proper to show respect to the deities of whatever land you were in. Bat slid from the stool and bowed. “I offer my apologies. That was not my intention. I simply desired a brief vacation from my duties in my own land.” Or the lack of them.

  The Morrigan must have heard, or known, because she snorted. “You have no duties in your own land. You are a diminished goddess, of no import.”

  And then Mell, that idiot, that imbecile, stepped between the two of them. “If she is so diminished, then she is no threat, now is she?”

  “Mell,” Dub growled out a warning as he moved down the bar toward them.

  The Morrigan held up a hand, halting him. She looked Mell up and down. “I remember you. The son of Alatrom who is more de Danann than Fomoiri, and who my top captain wants to bring into the guardi.” She lifted her hand in a graceful motion and ran one finger, the nail painted in a bright red to match her lips, down his chest. The movement should have been sensual, but all it held was a threat.

  Bat stiffened, ready to step in, when the Morrigan flicked her finger and stepped back. “Brave, or possibly stupid. But fearlessly insane as all the Irish,” she said as she looked again at Bat. “I was sent to assess this new goddess, but I see the worry was for naught.” The eyes moved down to her feet and back up, and Bat felt small and unkempt next to her. Just as Isis always made her feel.

  So, Bat did what she always did when the goddess deigned to acknowledge her. She killed her with kindness.

  “Would you care to stay for a drink? We are having a small celebration for a friend. I believe you call it a wake? Shar could make you some tea. It is quite good.” Bat widened her eyes and tilted her head again.

  The Morrigan’s eyes narrowed on the smaller woman and she snorted, shooting a look to Dub. “She speaks for you now?”

  Ignoring that comment, Dub gestured to one of the stools. “You are more than welcome to stay for a bit. As she said, we are having a wake for Dano.”

  The goddess hesitated. “The leprechaun that was killed?” Something new entered her voice, a dangerous note that brought to mind battlefields and the cawing of crows. A thirst for blood, but not mindless, no. A thirst for justice.

  Something they had in common.

  Bat held out her hand. “Please do stay.”

  Chin lifting, the Morrigan nodded and turned to her guards. There were four of them ranged behind her. The tallest, with short reddish hair, glared at Mell.

  “We will stay for a few songs. You are welcome to drink to the deceased, but do not become intoxicated.” The Morrigan took the stool next to Bat and locked her eyes on Dub. “A whiskey.”

  Dub nodded and quickly fulfilled the order, saying nothing as he placed the short glass in front of the goddess. A fresh mug appeared before Bat, the tea steaming, and she smiled at Shar, who gave her a brief nod and then returned to his place against the wall.

  They sipped at the same time, and the silence grew. The patrons remained quiet and the music silent.

  “Not much of a wake.” The goddess took another sip.

  Bat, eased by the tea and the small bit of kinship she felt for this daunting woman, answered without thinking. “They are a bit intimidated.”

  The Morrigan twisted her head to stare at Bat, her face still, but with a twinkle in her dark eyes. “Yes, I believe they are.” She spun on her stool and looked over the crowd as the patrons avoided her eyes. Releasing a quiet sigh, the Morrigan settled her gaze on the harp where it sat against the back wall, just as Bat had left it. “You play?”

  Bat followed her gaze. Was that a trick question? If the Morrigan was here to inspect the new goddess, surely, she knew Bat had played the harp? Especially if this was a god’s harp, as the brothers claimed. “Yes.” She took another sip of tea.

  “Will you play me something?”

  The room held its breath. Mell and the red-haired guard stiffened and looked between the two goddesses. Why was a request like this so significant?

  “Of course.” Bat slid off her stool and moved to the harp, taking the seat that had become hers in the circle of musicians.

  Her fingers played over the strings, a tune that had no direction, as she thought of what to play. Unbidden, the song from her first night here came to her, and she picked up the tune. Mell took his own seat, taking up the melody with his guitar. A pipe joined in a moment later, and then a fiddle. Bat sought the same sense she’d given the patrons just the night before, that of comfort and home. She wove it in the air and sent it toward the goddess who sat isolated and alone at the bar, a small gift, freely given. For weren’t those always the best?

  When the song was over, Bat’s gaze met that of the Morrigan, who nodded, said a few words to Dub and then exited the pub. Three of the guards went with her, but one remained, the red-haired one. He stood in the corner against the front wall, arms crossed, watching the
patrons.

  Once the goddess was gone, the atmosphere of the pub lightened. Bat and Mell stayed with the musicians and played a few more songs. A short couple got up and danced, and occasional laughter rang through the room.

  Life continued, despite those who were gone. It was this the Irish celebrated, and Bat embraced the sentiment, as different as it was from her own people’s customs. Though, the ancient ways were mostly gone, weren’t they? Supplanted by the waves of invaders who brought their own traditions and deities and beliefs.

  She just wished Dano’s spirit could have seen the care and celebration for himself.

  At midnight, Dub started kicking people out. There were a few grumbles, but on the whole, everyone left without a fuss. A few lingered, one of them being Ciara, the other Ailis. They stood talking with the red-haired man and Bat eyed them.

  The celebrations were over, the dead honored. Time to find out what was going on, and continue the hunt for a killer.

  She gave the harp one last strum and rose, placing it in its spot. She’d have to bring down the case later, so it was there when she needed to use it. Of course, she still didn’t know what the harp did, other than augment emotions. Maybe that was all it did.

  She stalked to the bar, Mell close behind her, just as Dub closed and locked the front door. Shar also joined them, coming from the hall, probably from locking the back door.

  “What was that all about?” Bat’s voice rang through the room that suddenly felt too big.

  Ciara’s eyes widened, she leaned into Ailis and whispered something too low for Bat to hear, and then looked at Dub with wide eyes.

  “Ciara needs to go, get settled into her new place. We’ll sort this all out in a moment,” Dub said with a look at the red-haired man.

  “Bat, will you help me wash up behind the bar? The sooner we get done with this the sooner we can deal with our… visitor,” Shar said, his deep voice guarded.

  Who was this “visitor”?

  She cast one more look at him then moved around the edge of the long bar and to Shar’s side. He showed her what to do, which basins to use for cleaning and rinsing, and finally how to dry the glasses. He stood next to her, helping, as Mell cleared the tables. Bat caught sight of Ailis working as well, wiping down the tables. So, she didn’t leave with Ciara.

  The only one not working was the red-haired man. He stood in the same spot he had all night, arms crossed, watching. Bat could feel his gaze on her occasionally, measuring. The occasional tendril would poke at her mind, easily blocked. Unlike what she felt from Mell, this was harder, analytical, less of emotion and more of reason.

  The fourth time the probing came, she grew tired of it and opened her mind, allowing the other in. Then, in a move she’d learned long ago and had had no reason to practice recently, she wrapped a bubble around that probe, locking the other’s senses away. It was a children’s game, something she had done with Horus when they were younger. It was also a test of strength, to see who could best the other.

  Unfortunately, this red-haired man was currently stronger than her and ripped through her bubble like it wasn’t there. She flinched, and a glass slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor.

  “Shit.” Shar picked her up and set her on the bar. “Are you okay?”

  It was unnecessary, Bat wore her boots, but she enjoyed the care he took. “I’m fine.” She laid a hand on his shoulder, assuring him. “I was just distracted for a moment.” She resisted the urge to glare at the red-haired man.

  “Yeah, Finn here decided he’d mess with the goddess, see what reaction he could get.” Mell hopped up on the bar next to her.

  A snort from the redhead. Finn? The man they spoke of earlier? “She started it. That was a neat trick by the way.”

  She twisted so she could see him fully and pinned him with a knowing look. “And you deserved it, poking at me like that.”

  Mell and Ailis chuckled as Finn’s eyes widened. Shar’s shoulders shook, and even Dub let out a low bark of laughter.

  “Believe me, goddess of Egypt, you will know when I poke you.”

  Bat glared at him even as the blood rushed to her cheeks. Arrogant not-man. He was almost as bad at the brothers, but much less endearing.

  “Should we not get on with this?” Bat held her arms out to Shar. The big man gifted her with a small smile and plucked her up by her sides. He walked with her held out from him like a messy baby and set her down by one of the tables dotted through the room. She gave a soft laugh and patted his shoulder. “Thank you.” Then she twisted and glared at the others in the room. “Everyone, come sit.”

  No, she may not have much power left, but she was still a goddess of balance and a guardian of order against chaos. That gave her some leverage here. She assumed this man was here to discuss justice for Dano, and that was her area of responsibility now.

  Pulling out a chair, she gave them one last glare and then sat.

  And, of course, they obeyed.

  She looked at Finn, who sat across from her, and waited. The corner of his mouth ticked up and he flicked a quick glance at Mell before once more settling his gaze on hers. His own were a soft hazel, more gold than brown or green, and glowed softly.

  Not a weak man.

  “The Morrigan has agreed to allow your presence in her land on some conditions,” Finn started. Dub shifted forward in his seat and opened his mouth, and Finn held up a hand, stopping him. “She came here tonight to assess you. It is always worrying when a new deity comes in, especially if they have not first made contact with the local deities. Most know to do this.” He let the words hang there.

  What was she supposed to say? “I blame it on the cat. She helped me plan.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Bastet. She helped me make arrangements. It’s the kind of thing she would do, leave out a detail like contacting the local deities, or telling me I should, just to see what happened.” Bat shrugged, not really concerned.

  “Alright, yes, we can... blame it on the cat. Now, on to the conditions. You may not set up a place of worship.” He held up his hand again, forestalling protests. “Meaning, you may not answer the sacrifices of those who come to you. The Morrigan will allow offerings freely given, or,” his gaze flicked toward where the harp rested, “the use of any artifacts that call to you, as well as small supplications. She understands a goddess must have something to sustain her and was not best pleased with your state of... deterioration.”

  So, the boots and the harp case would be allowed.

  The glow in his eyes grew. “She also wanted to let you know the song was lovely, and a worthy offering in itself.”

  Bat pressed her lips together. She had not meant it as an offering to the Morrigan, simply a… yes, it was an offering was it not? But not from a supplicant to a goddess, simply a gift. Finn remained silent, waiting for a reply.

  “I am glad she enjoyed the song.” There, that was neutral enough.

  His lips ticked up at the corner again, and he nodded. “I will relay your words.” He drew in a breath and anticipation filled Bat. Finally, they would get to what mattered. “As you know, Mell asked me to head up the investigation into Dano’s murder.”

  Bat nodded, the others following soon after her.

  Finn pursed his lips. “He probably thought I would share information more easily than others.”

  Disappointment spread through Bat, and she gripped her hands together. He didn’t sound as if he planned to share anything.

  His head tilted, and the lamplight glinted off his light red hair. “He was, of course, correct. On one condition.”

  Dub growled. “No more conditions.”

  Finn leaned back in his chair. “I am afraid I cannot be lenient with this one. There have been signs of a baobhan sith in the area, as I am sure you are aware of as well, since the print was found in your alley. I also know you went to a farm near Benbulben this afternoon, a pixie’s farm, and that you left in rather a hurry, with one of you injured. I know that
pixie was here tonight and that she was involved with Dano. And I know Dano was helping you find something, asking all over creation about a brooch.” Finn shook his head. “Why would you ever ask a leprechaun to find something for you? That’s like asking a wisp to lead you through the forest, or a pooka to give you a ride. Asking for trouble it is.”

  “He found it.” Mell’s quiet tones were filled with something that might have been sorrow, or anticipation, or even resentment. There was too much there for her to sort through.

  “And what did he find for you?”

  “Mell,” Dub said.

  “No, there’s no reason to keep it a secret. He found me Da’s brooch.” Mell leaned his forearms on the edge of the table, and his shoulders slumped.

  “Ye’r a damned fool, Mell O’Loinsigh.” Finn’s whisper, thick with brogue, had Mell slumping even farther.

  “I know.”

  Bat’s gaze bounced between the two of them. She remembered the conversation from earlier and Shar’s reaction to the news. She looked now at the pain shown in Mell’s posture, a pain older and much different from what haunted him earlier.

  “Does any of this have to do with Dano’s death or tracking the killer?” she asked.

  “I have no idea. We don’t have much to go on, and we need to follow each thread. For all I know, the true killer is the pixie, and the baobhan sith was simply in that area.” Finn’s voice was cool, the brogue almost gone.

  A tell to make note of.

  Bat opened her mouth to protest the last statement, explain that they knew better, but a sharp movement of Dub’s hand cut her off. He didn’t want her to speak of the visions.

  Her anger grew. So what if she spoke of them? She was here for two months. Maybe she had vaguely hoped for longer, but she only had the room secured for two months. If she spoke of her visions and had to return home sooner, was that any worse than a delay in catching Dano’s killer?

  No.

  “It wasn’t the pixie. And it wasn’t Mell, or any of the brothers.” Finn’s eyes widened as she spoke, and a smile played at the edges of his lips. “Nor is it Ailis.”