Ann Gimpel

by Earth's Requiem (Earth Reclaimed)

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  Fionn nodded. A corner of his mouth turned down wryly. “Remind me to dull that Seeker gift of yours. Gwydion and I—we had words. Tara overheard. She was afraid we would hurt one another over her. That, combined with pressure from Dewi, was enough to drive your mother out of Ireland.”

  “You didn’t go after her.”

  The tub was full. Fionn turned off the taps, but Aislinn wasn’t ready to take off her clothes. Not yet. Not until she’d heard everything.

  Fionn offered her a sad smile. “I already lived in the United States. But no, I didn’t try to find her. And I called off the other Celts who were searching for her on my behalf.”

  “Why?”

  “Because something Gwydion shouted at me that night sank into my thick skull. He told me I’d make her miserable and myself, too. That Tara MacLochlainn was a fey creature, with only one foot in this world and the other in the Dreaming.”

  Aislinn nodded. She knew that about her mother. “So you walked away.”

  “Aye.” He quirked a brow. “Are ye wanting to get in afore the water turns stone cold?”

  “You can make it warm for me again.”

  His mouth twitched. “Get in, wench. I’ll go bring you some dinner.”

  “No.” Her mouth went suddenly dry. “I want you to stay.”

  “Why?”

  His gaze settled on her. She saw hope in his eyes, and something else, too, flickering in their depths. Was he afraid she’d spurn him now that he’d told her the truth?

  “Because I had to expose myself to Slototh and feel his disgusting hands and mouth on me. I was held hostage by Dewi and raped by the Minotaur. This is something I want to have happen on my own terms.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t. Turning away, she stripped out of her filthy, stinking clothing, stepped into the tub, and lowered herself into the steaming water.

  He didn’t try to talk to her, just sat looking at her as she soaped herself. The water took on a grayish hue. At last, she met his gaze. “You’ve been getting quite the eyeful. Like what you see?”

  His breath caught in his throat and made a clicking sound. “Ye are quite possibly the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on, lass. With all that red hair floating about you, ye look like a latter day angel. Do ye know how hard it has been not to scoop you out of that bath, lay you on the floor, and have my way with you?”

  “Thanks for not.” A smile began in her heart before it spread over her face. “I needed time for myself.” The smile morphed into a grin. “But the water’s pretty disgusting, and I’m ready to get out.”

  “I could heat more,” he began and then frowned. “Those bite marks on your breasts and mouth. Did Slototh do that?”

  She nodded and tipped her chin up. “I had to lure him closer.”

  He shook his head, eyes blazing with compassion. “Nay, doona be defensive. I’m just so sorry. It hurts my heart that I wasna there to protect you. Now, are ye certain ye doona wish more hot water?”

  “Yes. We can take another bath later. Together.”

  Gripping the sides of the tub, she came to her feet, with water streaming down her body. He handed her a towel. She wrapped it around herself and then grabbed another to soak up water from her hair before stepping out of the tub.

  He stood before her, still just watching, giving her all the space she needed. Her gaze traced the familiar lines of his body: wonderfully broad shoulders, slender hips, powerful legs. He wore a cream-colored cotton shirt and snug-fitting jeans. The outline of his cock, hard and waiting for her, was obvious through the fabric. Though it was a challenge to tear her gaze away, she moved it upward to his face. To his incredible, long-lashed eyes shading to deepest blue and the strong, graceful bones in his cheeks and jaw. His lips were slightly parted, waiting. She knew he was waiting for her. Just for her. Only for her.

  Aislinn opened her arms. The towels fell to the floor.

  Kicking them aside, he came to her and drew her close. “Mo croi, I love you. More than is good for me. I love you.”

  He crushed his mouth down on hers. His hands roamed down her back and settled on her ass. He pulled her against him and moaned. She heard need and desperation and fear that he’d lost her in the sound, overshadowed by relief that he hadn’t.

  She drew away from him long enough to say, “I love you, too. When I thought you were lost to me, I went a little crazy, because I didn’t want to live in a world without you in it.”

  He scooped her up as if she weighed nothing and laid her tenderly on the bed. His hands worked the buttons of his fly. He freed himself and then knelt over her, stringing kisses down her body. He nuzzled her breasts, sucking the nipples gently until she reached for his hips, desperate to feel him inside her. He wriggled out of her grasp, slid farther down her body, and settled his mouth over the engorged spot between her legs. She came almost as soon as his tongue twirled around her clitoris, hips bucking against his mouth. He dug his hands into her hips, urging her higher as his tongue worked her. No one was more surprised than she when the spasms of a second climax jolted through her.

  “One of these days,” he said as he positioned himself over her, “I’m going to make you come ten times doing that.” His voice was rough with passion. “But just now, I canna wait to feel your body round mine. Ye doona know how close I came to taking you while ye slept. I wanted you that badly, lass.”

  She watched his face as he pushed into her, watched his eyes half-close in ecstasy as he withdrew and then, very slowly, slid back inside. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulled hard to get him to bury himself deep and stay there. Her fingers dug into his back. She rocked her body against him.

  He kissed her, tongue pushing inside her mouth as his cock slammed into her. Gentleness gone, they grappled with one another, gasping and panting, grinding their bodies together and seeking release. He groaned, made the wonderful sound like a lion purring that meant he was close. She shoved herself against him, met him stroke for stroke. Feeling him shudder inside her brought her over the edge again. Aislinn clung to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world spinning out of control.

  “If the two of you could keep your hands off one another for a few minutes,” Gwydion said, “the lot of us need to talk.”

  Rune, who’d been standing guard over them, growled.

  Aislinn opened her eyes. The warrior magician stood in the doorway. A deep purple robe was belted at his waist. Unbraided, his blond hair spilled down his shoulders. Blue eyes twinkled merrily.

  “What is it with you?” she managed, struggling to catch her breath. “First Bran—or was it Arawn?—and now you. Are all of you voyeurs?”

  He grinned at her. “Lass, ye doona know the half of it.”

  “Food,” she said. “I need to eat while we talk.”

  Fionn hoisted himself up on his forearms. He eyed Gwydion. “Leave us, and we’ll get up. Ye’ll want to give the lass a spot of privacy.”

  “Now why would I want to do that? She’s a lush sight for these old eyes.” The slap of his bare feet mingled with laughter as he disappeared down the hall.

  They sat around the kitchen table. Arawn and Bran were still in battle leathers, Fionn back in his jeans and shirt. She’d dredged more clothes out of Marta’s closet, finding a black skirt that came to her ankles and a fluffy teal sweater. The woolen garments felt soft against her skin. Rune must have liked them, too, since he’d curled right next to her, his back against her skirt where it fell to the hardwood floor.

  Aislinn had eaten until she felt full enough to burst. In between bites, washed down with plenty of mead, she told them about Slototh. “I asked Dewi this.” She glanced around at the men. “Now I’m asking you. Do you think he’s dead?”

  All four shook their heads.

 
; “Well, if he’s not dead, where is he?”

  “If we got verra lucky, he’s back in the world that spawned him,” Arawn answered, a murderous look in his dark eyes. “Fionn is not the only one of us who’s tangled with that one.”

  “Is there any way to know for sure?” Aislinn asked. She’d feel a whole lot better if she knew Slototh wouldn’t be lurking in some dark corridor, lying in wait for her.

  “Nay,” Bran said. “I’m thinking we would be better off trying to solve the human hybrid problem.”

  Bella squawked from where she’d taken up residence atop the refrigerator.

  “What about the other dark gods?” Aislinn asked.

  “Aye, there is that problem as well.” Gwydion shot a lascivious look her way.

  Fionn must have noticed, because he glared at Gwydion.

  “Stop it, you two.” Aislinn rolled her eyes. “I thought we were supposed to be figuring out what to do next.” She looked first at Fionn, then at Gwydion. “I am not Tara. Mother was only a girl when the two of you started haggling over her—”

  Aislinn’s jaw clanged shut. Quick as a nod, she was on her feet, hands raised to meet the magic she felt coming toward them. Rune stood next to her, growling. Though she hadn’t seen him move, Fionn was somehow by her side, with Bella on his shoulder. Gwydion, Arawn, and Bran closed ranks, making a wall in front of them. She glanced at Gwydion’s staff, but it wasn’t glowing. Did that mean something magical wasn’t coming? Or was it that the magic wasn’t a threat? She couldn’t tell from the warrior magician’s demeanor. He looked grimly ready for anything.

  The air shimmered on the far side of the room. Travis and his civet took shape.

  Aislinn blew out a breath. “What the hell, Travis? You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Hmph.” Fionn’s face darkened. It was obvious he remembered the Hunter all too well.

  Travis looked from one to the other. “Thank God I came out in the right place. I left in a hurry, and I wasn’t sure I had it just right.”

  “What’s happened, lad?” Bran asked, concern etched in his face. “Ye sought us out. There must be a reason.”

  Bella flew around the room, cawing. The civet hissed at the bird.

  Fionn grabbed his raven out of the air. “If ye doona behave better, I’ll be shipping you back to the Old Country.”

  “You would never do that,” the bird informed him haughtily. She pulled out of his grasp and landed lightly on the top of the kitchen door.

  “Watch me,” Fionn said tightly. His gaze settled on Travis. “I suggest you talk, lad. Something is amiss. I see it in your eyes.”

  Travis nodded. “We’re under attack. From the Old Ones.”

  Aislinn gasped. “Holy crap! That’s terrible. We figured they’d turn on us, but not this soon. What happened?”

  “I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “We’d just gotten back from Arizona and were settling in—you know, hunting and trying to get some rest—when a whole herd of them closed on us. We didn’t think anything of it. I mean, we’d never seen quite that many in one place before, but we figured they were just going to give us more orders.” He took an uneven breath. “We wanted to act normal so they wouldn’t know we were onto them.”

  Travis looked down. His jaw worked. Aislinn figured he was struggling for control. “They just started killing us. Stopped our hearts where we stood.” His voice broke. He cleared his throat and went on. “Some of us have stronger magic than others. We threw up wards and jumped out of there. Later, once we’d had a chance to think, we decided the best thing was to see if you’d help us. I volunteered to come here because my jumps are the most accurate.”

  “What were your losses?” Gwydion asked.

  “Twenty-something when I left. Probably more than that now.”

  Travis dragged his gaze, brown flecked with his green power color, up off the floor and looked at each of them in turn. He settled on Aislinn last. Pleading shone from the depths of his eyes. “Please,” he said. “We need help.”

  “And you’ll get it,” Aislinn snapped, outraged by what had happened. After shoving a goodly portion of the Earth’s population into that damned vortex, now the Lemurians were simply killing the rest of them outright. What had the vortex been? Something just for show?

  “Hmph.” Gwydion grabbed his staff. “We were trying to figure out what to do next. Seems that decision has been made for us.”

  Aislinn glanced at her skirt and sweater. “I need to change.” Spinning, she dashed for the bedroom, Rune right behind her. As she rifled through drawers, she was grateful Marta had been a bit of a clotheshorse. Snugging into dark green work pants with lots of pockets, she rolled the bottoms. Clean socks came right before she shoved her feet back into her boots. She eyed them for a moment. They really were in bad shape. She needed to find another pair—and soon.

  She pulled a black long john top over her head and followed it with a thick green jacket made of something fuzzy and synthetic. It was cold here, and it would be cold where they were going. She rummaged through her rucksack, checking to make sure it still had everything she might need for contingencies. Her hand closed on her water bottle. It was empty, so she filled it at the bathroom sink.

  By the time she returned to the kitchen, Fionn was back in battle leathers, hauberk, and vambraces. She wondered where he kept them when they weren’t on his back. Sometime, I’ll just have to ask him. Pulling cupboards and drawers open, she grabbed handfuls of nuts, dried fruit, and dried meat and stuffed them into a large pocket of her rucksack. Being half-starved hadn’t worked well for her in Arizona. She was damned if she’d make the same mistake twice.

  “Are we going back near where I used to live?” she asked Travis.

  “Yes. I sent the men an image of where we need to come out while we were waiting for you. Guess I’m going with him.” He pointed at Gwydion. “They didn’t think I’d be fast enough on my own.”

  “How many jumps?” she asked Fionn.

  “Maybe only one.” He smiled reassuringly at her, but worry flashed behind his eyes.

  None of them had foreseen the Old Ones engaging in a direct frontal attack. It hadn’t been part of any equation they’d drawn. They’d viewed the Lemurians as relatively passive, without teeth, reliant on the dark gods to mastermind their destructiveness. Aislinn sucked in a breath. If they’d misjudged the Lemurians so badly, what other mistakes had they made?

  An unpleasant truth intruded. She bit her lower lip and looked at Fionn. “Do you think the dark gods are behind this?”

  “And who else?” Arawn growled. “News travels fast. They would have heard what happened to Slototh by now.”

  “Aye, lass,” Bran muttered. “They’re out for revenge. The Lemurians owe them, and they’re calling in their chips.”

  “Okay.” She clucked to Rune, slipped her pack straps over her shoulders, and buckled the waist belt. “I’m all set.”

  Bella back on his shoulder, Fionn stepped to her side, sandwiching the wolf between them. Magic filled the air until it was hard to breathe. Linked to Travis and his civet, Gwydion was the first to leave. Arawn and Bran shimmered and disappeared.

  “Ready?” Fionn asked.

  She felt the thrum of the spell he held in check, waiting until everyone else was safely away.

  “More than ready.” Aislinn tensed her jaws. “I hate the Lemurians. They killed my parents. If we have to blow through an entire army of them to get to the dark gods, it’s fine by me.”

  The jump seemed to take longer than she expected. After a while, she couldn’t feel Fionn or Rune. It worried her. When darkness finally fell away, Aislinn saw the rubble of what was left of a city, except nothing looked familiar. She turned in a full circle before realization slammed her like a kick in the guts. Fionn and Rune weren’t with her. “What the hell?
” she sputtered, calling for them.

  A triumphant whoop turned her blood to ice. Travis stepped out of a gateway in the air, civet in his arms. “Damn! Didn’t think I’d be able to slip away from that Celt. Still not quite certain how I managed it.” He loped over and grabbed her arm.

  Aislinn tried to pull away, but his fingers gripped like pincers.

  “What did you do?” she cried, still trying to wrap her mind around Travis’s plea for help being nothing but a sham. “Where are Fionn and Rune?” She reached for her magic, intent on escape, but couldn’t latch onto it. The threads wouldn’t respond to her call. Fear clutched at her belly.

  Travis’s lips curled into a snarl. “You’re human. You belong with us.”

  “Yes.” Regnol, Travis’s Lemurian magelord, slithered out of the gateway Travis hadn’t closed off. “There’s the little matter of Metae’s death—and my other comrades your wolf slaughtered. You are coming with me.”

  The Old One’s gaze shifted to Travis. “You have done well. You may go now.”

  Horror filled her—and fury at Travis’s betrayal. She watched dumbstruck as he and the civet stepped through the gateway and were gone in a flash of blue-white light.

  Her face an impassive mask, Aislinn turned to face Regnol and stared into his whirling, alien eyes. He already had her. There was no reason not to make eye contact. “Where are you taking me?” She forced a bravado she was far from feeling.

  “Where else?” What passed for Lemurian laughter rasped like a saw blade attacking metal. “To Taltos.”