However, every time she asked them about it, all she got was the same answer: “I do not want to talk about it right now.”
It was the agreed upon answer that one of them was to give when something bothered them, but they were not yet ready to share. It had been used once or twice over the last few months, but it had never taken more than a day or two until someone was ready to talk and everything was sorted out.
This had been going on for six weeks. And it was all four of them.
Her hand crept up to her necklace as Killer and Mori tugged on the leashes in her other hand. Meera walked beside her, holding Bekka’s leash.
Absently, Bat noted the pedestrians moving out of the way of the three half-grown wolfhounds. Killer and his litter mates were well behaved, but they could be intimidating. She sent an apologetic smile to the humans who had to share the pavement with them.
“Are ya still worried?” Meera asked.
Bat shrugged, then nodded. There really wasn’t much else to say. She wasn’t afraid they would try to leave her, or kick her out. And it wasn’t that they didn’t want her any longer—that was proven night after night.
She and Meera had discussed this until the banshee was ready to either throw Bat into a wall, or bang her own head against one. As wonderful as Meera had been over the last months while they waited for AIlis to wake up—and her friend would wake up, Bat refused to think otherwise—the banshee’s tolerance for what she called “pointless talk” was very low.
“Well, I don’t think ya need to be worried for much longer,” Meera said now.
Bat’s stride hitched. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“You know something.”
“Maybe.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“No.”
“Bitch.” Bat didn’t mean it in a derogatory way. She’d overheard a younger girl in one of the shops direct the word at one of her friends who’d been teasing her. It had been said with such frustrated affection that Bat had been charmed. She had yet to come across anything that conveyed that mixture of feelings so perfectly, and decided to adopt it.
Meera laughed, now used to the insult. She knew exactly what Bat meant by it. They’d walked another block, perusing the various items in the shop windows, when Meera spoke again. “Any flashes?”
Bat frowned. “No.”
“Not even a tingle?”
“No.” And that was another mystery. The level of her power had been steadily increasing as her not-men and the pub’s patrons slipped offerings to her one way or another. One of the leprechauns gifted her a belt to match the boots she’d gotten form Dano. The pixies liked to find ways to sneak past the wards and leave flowers on her bedside table. Meera and the other banshees had taken to showing up with random pieces of clothing they claimed she needed to have. Old Mike offered her stories of lost tourists, and Faolan had once put on a shadow play for her. It had been a bit gruesome, but that was only to be expected from a sluagh.
And then there were her nights…
With all of that, her power was higher than it had been in centuries, though it hadn’t grown enough to alarm the local deities. The Morrigan occasionally came into the pub to check on just that. But Bat’s power had grown, which meant she should have been getting the occasional flash of vision even if there were no catastrophic events on the horizon.
“Hmmm… well, ye’ll figure it out eventually.”
“Yes. I will,” Bat replied, nothing but confidence in her tone. Finn had suggested she speak with Oisin, see if he could find anything in the archives about missing or dormant powers. Bat had an appointment to see the sidhe next week.
Her pace picked up. She was eager to get back to the pub and corner her men once more. She may not be able to pry their worries from them until they were ready, but nothing in the rules said she couldn’t at least ask them if they were ready to share, nor did the rules state anything against coaxing them to share…
She would get it out of them. After all, what were a few months to an immortal?
They turned right onto O’Connell Street and left the main road behind. It was quieter here, only a few pedestrians making their way along the pavement. Bat stopped before a blue door flanked by large glass windows with scrolling gold script proclaiming the name of the establishment: The Dubros.
The door was locked. She grumbled to herself as Meera laughed and the pups slipped in and around their legs, tangling the leashes into a tricky web.
Bat banged on the door as she shifted her grip on the leashes, trying to untangle them without letting the pups go. They’d been doing this lately when it was time to go back inside. If she dropped the leash ends, they’d be off like a shot, and she’d have to chase them down.
She’d fallen for it once and ended up on the other side of the canal, groups of humans laughing at her and the pups’ antics. Never again.
“Storeen, what are ya doing?” Dub scowled down at her. His expression was reminiscent of her first night here in Ireland, except this Dub had laugh crinkles at the corners of his eyes despite the frown.
She was half crouched, one foot held well above the pavement as she worked the leashes from around her ankle. “I cannot let them go, or the pups will run away. I do not want to chase them again.”
“And this is how you solve it?”
“What’s going on?” Shar appeared over his brother’s shoulder. His eye widened at the sight she presented.
“You could help,” she grumbled.
Shar shrugged. “When ye’re done playing, we have a surprise for ya.” Her giant stepped back into the pub, his shoulders shaking.
Killer chose that moment to make his move. He circled behind her and brushed against her thigh, tipping her into Dub. Her face headed straight for his groin and she had a choice—drop the leashes, or find herself in a position she much preferred to save for their bedroom.
It was not an easy decision, but she held onto those leashes for all she was worth.
Dub caught her just before her forehead met a very sensitive part of his anatomy.
Meera sagged against a nearby lamppost, weak with laughter.
Dub picked her up. “Maybe later, storeen,” he whispered in her ear, his voice husky.
Heat filled her cheeks.
“Mell!” Dub shouted over his shoulder. “Come get the beasts, will ya?”
The middle brother slipped past Dub and gathered the leashes from her. His face was tight with barely suppressed mirth. He didn’t say a word, no doubt afraid he would erupt with laughter if he opened his mouth.
None of them were gaining any points with her today.
“Here,” Meera said, tugging Bekka over to the door and handing over the third pup’s leash. She gave Bat a mischievous smile then sauntered away, back toward the main road.
When the dogs were out of the way, Dub and Bat stood in the doorway of the pub. She couldn’t help but compare this to the first night she’d met them. It had been dark, and she’d been shivering, cold and damp. She’d been armed with nothing more than a printed address and vague visions of rainbows and green fields.
Now, Dub’s hands were firmly wrapped around her arms as weak sunlight filtered through low clouds. There was warmth in his lapis-eyes instead of cold suspicion. That night, a fear she didn’t even know she possessed had been masked by formalities and defiant curiosity. Now, she’d bared her soul and dreams to the man that stood before her and to three others, and they’d helped her face those fears.
That night, she’d entered an entire world she knew nothing about—a world that held immortals and fae and leprechauns and Fomoiri. Now, that world welcomed her with open arms. She was more comfortable here, in this small pub, than she had ever been back in Egypt. Ever.
This was where she belonged. She did not dream of it, or hope for it. She knew it.
Dub’s eyes darkened as though he could hear her thoughts, and he tugged her to him. Dipping his head, he caught her lips
in a deep kiss.
“Well now,” she said when he released her. “What would have happened if you had greeted me like that on my first night?”
He just answered her with a heated look and pulled her inside.
There was no one inside except her for not-men. As she looked them over, she wondered—and not for the first time—just how she had gotten so lucky. Mell wore a white button down rolled up at the sleeves. Bat had learned to love the way his muscles and tendons danced on his forearms as he played his guitar. His slightly too long dark hair lay in messy strands around his beautiful face.
He sat at the bar next to Finn. The guardi was her golden man. His red-gold hair was like a beacon to her, asking her to come and run her fingers through it. She loved the contrast he presented to the dark-haired brothers. Everything about his appearance was warm, including the golden-hazel of his eyes.
Everyone knew how much she liked warmth by now.
Finn had become the main partner who… grounded her. He was her rock, the one who kept her steady in the chaos the brothers tended to cause in her heart and her mind. Oh, they didn’t do it deliberately, it was just who they were. They would never be easy, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Shar had gone behind the bar, and begun building a pint. He set it on the bar in front of her usual spot.
Sliding into her seat, she picked it up and took a deep sip.
Wonderful. Bat had grown to appreciate a good pint. The Irish truly knew how to make a good beer.
As she drank, Mell stood from his stool and walked back to the hearth where his guitar and her harp rested. Picking up his instrument, he settled into his seat and strummed his fingers over the strings.
Without further prelude or comment, he played.
It wasn’t anything she’d heard before. She tilted her head listening. A few of the chords were a little awkward, but overall she liked it. Her foot bobbed in time and she began humming along as the main melody repeated.
Then he began to sing.
And the man
His heart was hollow
For his eyes
Reflected night
Tears pricked her eyes, though she wasn’t sure why. Mell didn’t put any sorrow into the song, even if the lyrics hinted at it. Absently, she noted that Shar had slipped into the back hallway.
In her arms
He found his solace
This goddess was
His sorrow and delight.
She smiled. Was he singing about her?
The pains
They were left behind
In the end
She held him tight.
Mell’s head was bent over the guitar, his attention on his fingering.
In the heart
Of this once hollow man
A goddess
Brought him light
Mell continued to pluck the melody for a few measures more, then his fingers stilled. He bit his lip and peered up at her through the fall of his shaggy brown hair. “Did you like it?” he finally asked.
Something in his voice made her pause. “Did—“ she swallowed. “Did you write it?”
He gave her a shallow nod.
A huge grin stretched across her face. She jumped from her seat and rushed to him. Grabbing him around the shoulders, she pulled him into a tight hug. “Was it about me?”
“Yes.” His voice was muffled. She’d smashed his face into her chest.
“I love it.” She released him. “I love it, and I love you.” The words slipped from her so easily now, but she meant them every time.
“I love you too.”
Bat froze. Had he… ? “Did you… ?”
Mell smiled up at her and grabbed her hand. “I love you, Bat Sitru, previous goddess of Egypt, now the patron goddess of The Dubros in Sligo Ireland.”
Her heart pounded and her head spun. He’d finally given her the words back. She honestly hadn’t thought it would affect her this much.
Letting out a delighted laugh, she tackled him again.
A throat cleared behind her. Bat twisted her head around to find Shar, Dub and Finn all lined up behind the bar. A line of dishes sat across the polished wood.
“Come, a stor. Eat.” Shar pointed to the dishes.
Bat grabbed Mell’s hand and dragged him with her.
All her favorites were laid out. Strawberries, fresh bread and butter, and a steaming cup of tea. Beside these was a beautiful potted plant whose flowers matched Shar’s eye. “Cornflowers?”
Shar nodded.
“I used to have these back…” She almost said home. “Back in Egypt.”
“I know.” He paused. “Do you like them?”
“Of course.”
Shar stared at her, expectant.
What did he…? It didn’t take Bat long to catch on. “I love them, and I love you.”
Shar’s smile bloomed. “I love you, too.”
Bat giggled. Was this what they had been up to? Was this what they had been keeping from her? Maybe she would have to forgive them for tormenting her for weeks.
She looked between Dub and Finn. Who would be next?
Dub frowned at her. “What? Just because these two saps said it, now you expect everyone to?”
She nodded. “Yes. It is only fair, after all.” She leaned toward him. “And your frowns don’t fool me, Fomoiri.”
“Is that so?” He jerked his head at Finn. “You’re up, guardi. I’m going last.”
Finn sighed but sent Bat a soft smile. Then he pulled an envelope from his jacket and placed it on the bar between the strawberries and the tea. “I did promise you,” was all he said.
She opened the envelope and read the contents. It was a reservation for a bed and breakfast in Lislorkin North. Bat raised questioning eyes to Finn.
“We’re going to see the Cliffs of Moher.”
Bat recalled the painting she’d admired in his apartment. He had promised to take her to see them if they survived, hadn’t he? “This is perfect.” She decided to tease him and held back the words they all seemed to be waiting for today.
He surprised her, though. Finn leaned over the bar until only a few centimeters separated their lips. “I love you,” he whispered, then gave her one of the sweetest kisses she’d ever received.
“I love you too,” she said as he pulled back.
It was kind of nice to say the words second.
“Lickarse,” Dub muttered. He placed a deep-red velvet bag on his side of the bar. Pulling out five jewelry boxes, he lined them up along the edge. He fiddled with them for a few seconds until finally he had them just right.
Dub picked up the one at the end and placed it before her.
“What is this?” Each of her not-men wore serious expressions and nervousness welled within her once more.
“Open it,” was all Dub said.
Her fingers only trembled a little as she pried open the lid on the small box.
Inside nestled a ring. Only… it wasn’t a single ring. It was five interlocking bands, all bound together into one ring. Bat picked it up and rolled the bands through her fingers.
“It’s a take on the trinity ring. Which has a much older meaning than the one adopted by the Christian faith, actually. It’s all about unity, about being stronger together. And I’m not even sure it’s originally Irish, the Smith said he picked the idea up from and Russian he met in… well, it’s Germany now. Plus…” Dub trailed off as Bat stared at him.
Dub just rambled. Dub never rambles. “Are you all right?”
He nodded, his cheeks burning. Mell’s shoulders shook, and Finn coughed.
Bat returned her attention to the gift. “There are five of them. One for each of us?”
Dub nodded, his lips clamped tightly together.
“It’s beautiful. Which finger is it supposed to go on?”
Dub reached for her hand. “Let me.” He slipped the ring over the third finer on her left hand. His face was flushed so deep a red that Bat really was concerne
d for him.
“Are you sure you are all right?”
He opened his mouth, no doubt to say “fine,” but then closed it. That would violate the rules. “I’m nervous,” he ground out.
“Oh.” Bat grinned at him. “I love you.”
“Love you too.” The words came out in a rush of breath and Dub groaned as soon as he said them.
“Is it really that hard?” Bat looked to each of her men.
Finn shrugged, Mell shook his head, Shar nodded, and Dub groaned again.
Then the grumpy not-man picked up the other boxes and shoved one at each man. “Here. Put them on.”
“Awe, big brother, I love you.” Mell batted his lashes at Dub.
“Shut it.” Dub opened his box and slipped his own ring over the same finger he’d placed Bat’s ring on.
“Does this mean we are now married?” She asked as soon as each man had put their rings on. “Is that legal? And is there not a ceremony I am entitled to? I have seen the magazines and have watched shows with Meera. There is supposed to be a dress, and a cake, and a man in a dark suit.” She nodded her head decisively. “Yes, I am sure of these things.” A grin threatened to take over her face as she teased her men, but with effort she maintained a serious expression.
“Uhhh…”
Then Bat laughed and picked up a strawberry. She’d tortured her poor not-men enough for one day. They’d get there. After all, they basically had eternity
Dearest Bastie,
I have decided that even if you never answer me again, I will continue the messages. You didn’t see the other ones I wrote, because I never sent them. They were more for me to write than for you to see anyway.
I am not sure if you would believe my life here in Ireland even if you saw it with your own eyes. I, who could not keep even one man, now have four. And they are perfect. Well, no they are not. But I would not change them for anything. They make me laugh, and they keep me warm.
I just wanted to thank you, again. If it were not for you I would have never begun this journey.
The Forgotten Trilogy Page 65
