Blue Keltic Moon (Children of the Keltic Triad)

by *lizzie starr

  “He’s a proud Faerie, Bree.”

  “I know, Dad.”

  “And it’s difficult to ask for help.”

  “I know that too. I hurt for him, seeing him suffer when he doesn’t need to.”

  Her mother’s eyes darkened for a moment and Bree knew she relived the dark moments of her own past. “Maybe he does, honey. It’s a part of healing.”

  “But to hold on to that pain for a lifetime? He’s got to come to terms with what happened. Work through it like you did. With help. No, Mom. It’s some stupid... oh, I don’t know. After all this is done, I’ve got to find a way to make him talk to me. About us.”

  Her parents shared a look she didn’t have to interpret and Breanna blew out a breath filled with frustration and a bit of humor. “I’ve got to run. We’ll cross into the world between worlds tomorrow night.” She gave them each a hug. “Love you both.”

  After another round of somber hugs, Bree smiled, waved and left the house. She leaned back against the brightly painted door and closed her eyes. All around her were couples so filled with love for each other it was amazing they didn’t burst with the joy.

  She shook away her thoughts. This was not the time for daydreams and romantic notions. This was the time for preparation and action. Eyes open, she stared unseeing into the park across the street. There wasn’t much time before the action would consume all her attention.

  “Sis?” Chance eased around a tree.

  She gave him half a smile. “What do you want? I don’t have time to—”

  He crossed his arms in a belligerent pose. “I’m going.”

  “Where?”

  “With you, stupid. To the world between worlds.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Come on, Bree. What have you been training me for if not to stand by your side in battle? So I’m not mature. So I’m not a full Faerie warrior. So? I need this, Bree. I need to do something important.”

  She didn’t have the patience for his young man bravado or angst and pushed away from the door. “You’ve got plenty of time for importance.”

  “No, Bree. Listen. I’ve got this... No, I can’t be like my father. I’ve got to prove...”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Chance glanced around and moved a step closer. Breanna tensed. What was he playing at? But the look he gave her, the dark, haunted dullness in his normally clear blue eyes reminded her so explicitly of Gowthaman’s pain she reached out to him and rested her hands on his shoulders. “What is it?”

  After swallowing heavily and looking around again, he spoke in a harsh whisper. “It’s like, there’s a voice. Inside my head. Suggesting things, telling me things... stuff I don’t want to hear.” His whisper morphed into a ragged chuckle. “Nah, I’m not schizophrenic or anything like that. I’d know. Hell, Bree, you’d know. It’s like when Feidhlim tried to contact me, to control and use me when I was a baby.” He shuddered and she gripped his shoulders tightly.

  “He’s dead. It can’t be him.”

  “I know.” Frustration flowed from Chance in waves. “Sorry. I know it can’t be him. I said it was like him.”

  “How long has this been going on? Why haven’t you said anything before now?”

  A ruddy color crept up his neck and stained his cheeks. He shook off her hands, but didn’t move away. “Only a couple days ago. That might not seem like much, but it won’t stop. The voice is always there in the background. Most of the time, I don’t understand the words, but I feel them. Like a constant hum. White noise. It’s driving me crazy.”

  Breanna squinted and calmed her mind to study her brother’s aura. There was a dampening of his color, an odd gray tinge surrounding his head. So this experience really bothered him. But she saw no intrusion, no evidence of some force attempting to psychically assault him.

  “I don’t see any attack. But you are dull.”

  “So you’ve told me many times. Geez, you believe me, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got tell Granda about the mission into the world between worlds, then stop in Faerie before I head back to Scotland. Come with me and we’ll find time to talk. You can tell me what you think this voice thing is saying to you.”

  “I don’t think. I know. It’s telling me to go with you. Well, maybe not exactly that. I just know I need to go with you.” He frowned and fell silent.

  They’d made their way next door to their grandfathers’ home. Bree mounted the steps then paused when Chance stumbled to a stop behind her. “I’ll, uh, wait on the porch,” he mumbled.

  “Chicken.”

  Breanna made short work of her story, relieved her granda, the former leader of the Alastriona, agreed she was the appropriate choice to lead a small force into the world beyond worlds. Pop-pop on the other hand, fussed over her until all three broke into laughter. She was still smiling when she closed the front door and nudged Chance with her toe.

  “That must have gone well,” he said, rising to stretch until his tee shirt slipped from his jeans, exposing his abdomen. Breanna’s eyes widened at the well-defined muscles. Her baby brother had grown up. Maybe Granda was right and he would be an important addition to her group. If it helped him work through whatever bothered him, that would be even better.

  “Yeah, it did. Granda gave me some good suggestions, too. He agrees I should ask Searlait to come with us. She spent a long time in the world between worlds. But, I don’t know if she’ll be willing to go back.”

  “She doesn’t have the same kind of problem Gowthaman has, does she?”

  “No. Still, she doesn’t talk much about her time there. Even if she won’t go, any information about the place she can give us will be invaluable.”

  Silent, they passed through the rose trellis portal in Jaye’s backyard to the Faerie Otherworld. Each took a deep breath. Breanna closed her eyes and let the clear, untainted air fill her lungs. It was a blessing, a way of cleansing her body after the much-breathed air of the human world. Not that she’d ever deny her human half, but she did love the clean, fresh air.

  Chance cleared his throat. “So, what are ya gonna do about Gowthaman? When all this is over, I mean.”

  A shrug was the only answer she could give right now. Her heart screamed for her to pursue him ruthlessly, make her love and intentions as clear and honest as the Faerie air. But doing so would only make him withdraw further into himself. Somehow, there had to be a way to convince him it was time to live again. And time to love. To love her.

  Eyes glinting with mischief, Chance looked ready to pursue his question so she adroitly changed the subject. “Granda gave me another suggestion that I think was pretty right on.”

  “Yeah?” He’d given in easily so he must not have been interested in teasing her about Gowthaman. Something truly bothered him to miss such an open opportunity.

  “Yeah. He had another suggestion about who would be good to have on my team.”

  Chance shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. “Who?”

  Breanna decided to draw out the moment, let him stew just a little longer. “Someone I’ve been working with a lot lately, training, that kind of thing. Granda thought this person would both benefit from the experience and have a great deal to offer to the mission.”

  His shoulders hunched higher when he stared at the ground. “Makes sense.”

  She couldn’t stand the physical expression of her normally cheerful brother’s despondency so she slapped him on the shoulder.

  “Geez. What’s that for?”

  “You, stupid.” She laughed at the odd, dumbstruck questioning expression he gave her. “You’re the one Granda suggested. No, I didn’t tell him about the voice,” she rushed to say when Chance’s eyes widened in dismay. “I think he considers this mission as some sort of right of passage. For both of us.”

  Chance planted his fists at his hips. “What about you? Just because Granda suggested me, doesn’t mean you’ll give me a place on the team, does it? You still think
I’m some kid. Okay, so I’m not twenty yet. That doesn’t mean—”

  “Of course you’re coming with me. Thankfully Granda said he’d let Mom and Dad know, so I don’t have to face them again.”

  “And you called me chicken.” Chance grinned, straightening his back and setting his shoulders in a strong line.

  Breanna caught her bottom lip between her teeth. When had Chance grown up—at least physically? His teasing was still child-like and for the most part innocent, much like the tricks played by those of Korin’s winged fairy race. She eyed her brother critically. Actually, she kind of liked the combination of strength and innocence.

  “Nope, not chicken, just relieved to pass the buck. Mom and Dad were okay with me going, I don’t know how they’re going to react to you following in my footsteps.”

  “No way. I plan on making my own footprints.”

  She tugged him into a hug. “I know you do, little brother. And you will.” She released him with a stern look and shook her finger. “You will follow my orders. I am the head of the Alastriona and the leader of this adventure.”

  He gave her a brisk, military salute. “Yes, sir... ma’am... Sis.”

  “I need to talk to Searlait and have her meet us at the loch tomorrow. We’ll leave from there. I don’t know what kinds of weapons will be useful in the world between worlds, but I know Searlait kept a long sword at her side. Probably that kind of traditional weapon would be best. There’ll be four of us, and we’ll supply a weapon for Morghan as well. Will you gather what we need for five from the armory while I talk to Searlait?”

  “No problem. Then I’ll meet you at the loch.”

  “If you beat me there, ask Gowthaman to fill you in on what we’ve learned so far.”

  “Gotcha.” Chance turned away, froze and spun back, a plea in his wide eyes and open palms. “Sis?”

  “I didn’t forget. This evening we’ll find a quiet corner and you can tell me about what you’ve been hearing. Just so you know, that’s part of the reason I agreed to you coming along. There has to be some reason why you’re being drawn to enter the world between worlds. And I’m sure it’s crucial for the success of this mission.”

  Eight

  Gowthaman worked rapidly, annotating his notes with new information and possibilities. He penned precious thoughts onto the pages, making his theories as clear as possible. He would insist Breanna take the journal with her. Much would still be left to the whims of fate, but he planned to give the rescue party any advantage he could discover.

  He glanced at a small timepiece set at the corner of the desk. His breath caught painfully in his chest. The hours flowed too rapidly. Even with the journal he would never be able to impart all the needed information and make sure each member of the team understood and would be able to remember. The slightest difference of pronunciation in an incantation or an imprecise movement could mean disaster in their mission.

  Failure was not an option. He snorted softly, lay his pen aside, and pressed the heels of his palms against his tired eyes. Hadn’t he heard that line in some movie Breanna had made him watch with her?

  Cupping his elbow with his opposite hand he twisted, pulling to stretch tight muscles. He repeated the stretch on the other side then rolled his shoulders and arched his neck until he heard a muffled crack. “Ahh.” A neck rub would sooth the tightness. He sighed. Breanna always used the exact pressure needed to ease his stiff muscles.

  Breanna. She soothed and eased his discomforts in so many ways, but beyond a curt thank you, he’d never let her know how greatly he appreciated her efforts. Nor how he appreciated her. Now instead of telling her, he was helping to send her into the most dangerous, loathsome place he could imagine. Resting his forehead in one palm, he leaned over the table and closed his eyes. He didn’t have to imagine. He had experienced the world between worlds.

  Already despondent from the trauma of a fey witch invading his mind and attacking his memories, he had wished to remain. No light nor color hovered in his soul, his mind had been overcome by gray. Why shouldn’t his world have been the same? But Bard and Searlait had forced him to return to Faerie.

  Upon that return Breanna had touched him. Barely five years old, she had touched his mind in a way so gentle and loving for a moment he’d forgotten the violence that had ripped through his intellect. At the last moment he’d realized what the child was doing and erected a thick mental wall around the potent, disabling memory of the mind rape. She’d even smiled as she helped him construct the barrier. He didn’t know if Breanna realized how many times since then he’d had to shore up the failing protection, hiding the pain he would never let her see.

  Gowthaman released a slow breath. Determined to impart as much knowledge as he was able in the allotted time, he turned back to the journal. His efforts had to be enough. Even if Breanna’s team wasn’t able to find Morghan, they would require the means to return.

  The pen slipped from his fingers and rolled across the table. He stared at the word he’d just written but the fine lines blurred. When he rubbed his eyes, his fingers came away damp. They had to return. She had to return. Deep, hidden in his heart, was the acceptance he would not survive were Breanna lost to him. He could not express his love to her as he wished, but still, selfishly, he needed her near. Needed her desperately, simply to survive.

  Not expecting any of her team to have arrived at the manor yet, Breanna stumbled to a stop at the sight of a tall, gray-haired man speaking earnestly with Jayse just outside the heavy front door. Catching her lower lip between her teeth she tilted her head to one side. Something familiar about the figure spoke to her but she couldn’t fix a name or recognition to the man.

  Before she moved closer, she paused to study the man’s back. Slim, yet with the hint of powerful shoulders. Long legs were encased in tight jeans showing muscular thighs and calves. She couldn’t hear his voice, but the cadence, the rise and fall of words was comforting and familiar.

  He threw one hand sideways in an expansive gesture. “Honey, please.”

  “Nightshade,” she cried and rushed forward. He turned and caught her in a tight embrace that she returned fiercely. She grinned. Whenever Nightshade was around, everything always worked out. He’d been a secure presence her entire life, saving Pop-pop when he’d been kidnapped, then providing an escape from Chance’s evil bio-father for her family just after her brother’s birth. Nightshade had always been there for them and she loved him. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her question muffled against his chest.

  He held her at arm’s length, a solemn light filling his eyes. “Nightshade had a feeling, little girl.”

  “Little girl? You haven’t called me that in ages.”

  “Honey, you’ll always be a little girl to me.”

  “Yeah, you and my folks. Wait a minute.” She shrugged out from under his gentle hands. “Did they send you here to check up on me?”

  A wounded expression blossomed on his face and he covered his heart with one hand before staggering back. “Moi? Checking up on you? Honey!”

  “Yeah, you.” She laughed at his dramatics and as tension flowed from her muscles, realized she’d been riding a wave of intensity over the past hours and needed to relax. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. I’m glad to see you.”

  “And I you, little girl.” He bowed deeply.

  She swatted his arm. “Stop that.”

  Jayse joined in their laughter then excused himself by explaining Lucidea was with both the Faerie healers and those of the Alfar-Sindhu. She hadn’t wanted him in the room during the magical examinations, just in case they were disappointed yet again. He grinned and pressed a kiss to Breanna’s cheek.

  “I know they’re not going to find anything different than what you told us, Bree. Thank you.” With that he turned and she could tell the effort it took for him to walk when he wanted to run to Lucidea’s side.

  She sighed, then caught Nightshade’s smug, knowing expression. Not wanting to invite back the tension by delvi
ng into her feelings, she asked, “What did you do to your hair?” Reaching up, she ran her fingers over his short-cropped hair. “And what’s with the color? Do you have a new lover who likes this better?” For as long as she’d known Nightshade, her entire life, he’d worn his bright auburn tresses long, despite any current rage or fashion.

  He patted a disrupted, ragged wave back into place. “Don’t you like it?”

  “It’s... different.” Studying the thick, soft hair, she circled him. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Truthfully, honey, I got tired of it. All the styling, the coloring—”

  “This isn’t colored?”

  Nightshade took her hand and they wandered into the manor. Turning to the right he led her almost to the end of a long hallway to a pair of overstuffed chairs facing a view of the loch out a wide window. “Honey, this is me... au naturale. I’ve had stone-gray hair my entire life.”

  “That’s odd. Even as a child?”

  Settling into a chair, he nodded. “Even so.” When she sat, his playful expression turned serious. “Are you sure you need to do this?”

  Breanna leaned back, closed her eyes and blew out a long breath. “I knew it. Mom and Dad did send you.”

  “They have no idea where I am. I’m here of my own volition, honey. Didn’t I say Nightshade had a feeling? I learned long, long ago to trust my feelings. At least this type of feeling.” He fell silent and stared out the window.

  A quick study of his profile revealed nothing, even though the way he’d said ‘long, long ago’ held significance for him. Her curiosity piqued, she wondered how long ago he was talking about. Nightshade had changed over the years. The flamboyant drag queen from her childhood had morphed into a serious... Her thoughts faltered.

  Sometimes she found it extremely difficult to merge the opposing aspects of his personality. Chameleon-like, he could go from soft and flighty to primal warrior in less than a heartbeat. He remained an enigma. Yet, even with aspects of his personality firmly settled on both ends of a spectrum, his caring and protective nature never changed.