by M. D. Massey
I had to prepare to wage war on the gods, after all.
One morning I awoke next to her in bed, with the light streaming through the windows of my Keebler cottage. Birds were singing outside in the Grove, and a light breeze carried the smells of fresh air and flowers blooming, and in the distance, I heard the gentle burbling of my favorite stream. Fallyn’s body was warm beside me, and she smelled faintly of Black Opium by Yves Saint Laurent, musk, and morning breath. Frankly, I found the combination to be both endearing and strangely enticing.
All was right with the world, and I lay there for an indeterminate amount of time, enjoying it all as I watched her sleeping next to me. Eventually, she sensed that I was watching her, and she stirred slightly with her eyes closed. Finally, she draped a leg across mine as she nuzzled close, a hint of a smile on her lips as she made soft noises of contentment.
“Fallyn, it’s time.”
“No, I don’t want to face the world just yet. Let’s just stay here until Badb and Fuamnach get bored and lose interest.”
“Um, there’s a major time differential. We could spend centuries here before they found another patsy for their evil schemes.”
“Fine by me. Wake me up when it’s over.”
I laughed softly, kissing her on the forehead. “Sorry, but this problem isn’t going away. I have to start making preparations, and I need to face them before they level Austin looking for me. Hell, from what Maureen told me, Fuamnach flattened Crowley’s farmhouse and tower. If she’d do that to her own son, imagine what she’ll do to get at me.”
Fallyn growled unconvincingly, rolling over on her back as she covered her eyes with her arm. “Alright, I get it—this problem needs to be dealt with head on. But if you think I’m sitting idle while you run around and do druid stuff, you’re crazy.”
Here goes… let’s see if she falls for it.
“I don’t expect you to. In fact, I was kind of hoping you’d agree to work behind the scenes to help me prepare for what I assume will be an inevitable showdown.”
Fallyn removed her arm, and her eyes snapped open. “‘Behind the scenes’?”
“Well, yeah,” I said, propping myself up on an elbow. “They can’t know I’m coming, and they certainly can’t know I’ve prepared for them. So, I figured you could put all that training you got at your mom’s werewolf academy—”
“Don’t call it that.”
“Mercenary school? Assassin college? Alpha University?”
“Ugh, just stop and get to the point.”
“You know, eventually I’m going to get you to tell me the name of your super-secret organization,” I replied with a sly grin.
“Fat chance. Spill, druid boy.”
“Right. If I’m going to beat these bitches, I’ll need all the help I can get. So, I was thinking that we’d need a place to prepare and train. Someplace with unlimited space that would give us time to learn to work as a team, and develop specific strategies for defeating two goddesses—”
Fallyn frowned. “You want me to train a team to assassinate two members of the Celtic pantheon, here, in the Grove.”
“Egg-zactly. It’ll be like a dream team of god-killing badasses, on a quest so epic that I’m sure it’ll become a novel or a movie at some point.”
Fallyn sat up, crossing her legs and arms simultaneously. “Boy, you are out of your ever-loving mind. For one, who’s going to be on this team?”
“Beyond you and me? That remains to be seen.”
“Wow, Colin. You have really thought this through. Did it ever occur to you that some of these people might die?”
Yes. Yes, it did.
“See, that’s the whole point of having you train the team. I figure that I’m going to be doing all the heavy lifting when I confront Badb and Fuamnach. My plan is to deal with them one at a time, so I’ll need long-range support. I’m really no good at logistics, and that’s where you come in.”
“So, what—I’m supposed to teach a bunch of oddballs how to kill a goddess?”
I tilted my head side to side. “More like distract, confuse, and weaken them. I have a plan for that.”
“That is a stupid plan. What you need to do is convince someone like The Dagda or Lugh to intervene for you. Speaking of which, have you spoken to your mom?”
“Noooo,” I said, elongating the single-syllable word for emphasis. “I’ve been here with you, remember? Anyway, it’s only been maybe half a day in Earth time. What could’ve happened between then and now? I’m sure she’s hanging out in Farmersville, sharpening her axe and planning to kill one or both of them herself.”
Fallyn covered her eyes with her palms as she growled in a much more convincing manner. She pulled her hands away, fixing me with a purse-lipped stare. “Here’s what I think you need to do. First, you need to find out just what the hell Finnegas had planned for you all this time. Then, you need to speak with your mother to see what she thinks the best way is to kill one of the Morrígna and the most powerful sorceress the Tuath Dé have ever produced. After you get a clue about how in the fuck you’re going to save your own ass, then talk to me about helping you. Deal?”
If it keeps you away from the action.
“Alright, alright,” I said, pulling her into a hug. “So, while I’m doing that, what are you going to do?”
“I guess I’ll just lay low and see what the Pack needs. Eventually, Mom is going to have to get back to Switzerland. Not to mention that her and Dad can’t get along for more than a few days at a time.”
I pulled away, so I could give Fallyn an arch-eyed look. “Oh? Do tell.”
“Whenever they get together, they screw like bunnies for a day or two, then they realize they can’t stand the sight of each other and part ways for a few years. It’s fucking ridiculous.”
“Considering this is Samson we’re talking about, I can see that. He’s so grumpy, I don’t know how anyone could put up with him for long.”
“Hey!” Fallyn exclaimed as she punched my shoulder playfully. “That’s my daddy you’re talking about.”
“Sorry, but he is a grouch.” I chewed my lip thoughtfully for a few seconds. “So, I’ll go do druid stuff and meet you back at the Pack’s hunting grounds when it’s time to kick ass?”
“Oh, I guess,” she said in a playfully put-upon tone. Then she pounced on me, straddling me and pinning my arms to the mattress. “But first, I’m going to fuck your brains out.”
After a rather long co-ed aerobics session with Fallyn, I bathed, got into some clean clothes, and kitted myself out for Armageddon—no sense in getting caught with my pants down, after all. I kissed my girl goodbye and had the Oak drop me off in a dark, secluded corner of Luther’s coffee shop. No sooner had I arrived than the man himself blinked in doing his shadow “bamf” thing, only to grab me and teleport us both into his upstairs apartment.
“What the—? I had no idea you could do that,” I exclaimed. As he stepped back to give me some space, I glanced around his living room to get my bearings. “Huh, you got rid of the Marilyn Monroe pics. Everything’s all cold and industrial now. Are you back together with Mateo, or what?”
Luther dismissed that comment with a limp-wristed, back and forth wave of his hand. “No, that Queen Mary has sailed,” he said in a tenor voice that had just a hint of femininity to it.
When Luther turned down the volume on his gayness, you knew things were serious. “Sorry to hear that.”
“It is what it is. Now, what the hell are you doing, popping into my café when you know damned good and well you’re being hunted by a few very unsavory Celtic gods?”
“Um, just two, actually. One of them had an accident.”
“I see. God or goddess?”
“The former. He took a long vacation across the Veil.”
Luther gave a rueful shake of his head. “One of these days, that Irish luck is going to run out, pretty boy. And then what are you going to do?”
“Nothing, if I’m dead. That’s why I stopped by.”
I studied the white, faux bearskin rug I stood upon as I took a moment to prepare myself before breaking the news. “Finnegas is gone, Luther.”
The master vampire covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh, honey. I am so sorry.” For a split-second, I thought I saw a pinkish tear forming in his eye. After a blur of movement, it was gone. “He said his health was failing when last we spoke, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon.”
“Well, he had help with that—Badb,” I spat. “You know what happened in New Orleans, of course. Turns out that ratchet set us all up, knowing the old man would have to spend himself saving my ass.”
Luther lowered his chin as he looked at me with hooded eyes. “And you’re still blaming yourself, I’m sure. Sit down while I fix us both a drink.”
I did as asked—I was standing in front of his new, white leather couch, after all. No sooner had I plopped down than the coven leader blurred away and back again with a strong pour of something clear and golden-brown in a rocks glass. Grabbing the libation greedily, I slowly sniffed the contents. Peat smoke and sea spray, with a hint of vanilla. At first sip I was overwhelmed by malt and Sherry, then iodine, before it ended with a strong, oaky finish.
“Whoa. What is this?” I asked, not quite certain if I liked it.
“Scotch, you heathen. Lagavulin 16, which no liquor cabinet should be without. Sorry, I had a party and I’m all out of bourbon.”
After a moment’s consideration, I took another sip. “No worries, this will do. It’s weird, but I like it. Hell if I ever thought I’d say that about Scotch.”
“The cheap stuff is what turns most first-time Scotch drinkers off. That and Laphroaig.” He blurred again and returned with a cocktail of his own. “Now, give me the story—all of it.”
So, I did, starting with the events immediately following my departure from New Orleans, even though Luther had been filled in previously on that debacle. I told him about Iceland, my time with Click—the quasi-god otherwise known as Gwydion—and my successful but ultimately failed quest to find Dian Cécht so I could convince him to heal Finnegas. I ended the tale with more recent events, such as my brief spate as the alpha of the Austin coven, ending with the current, very fucked up situation.
As he listened, Luther, did his whole creepy “I’m a vampire and I don’t really have to move or breathe if I don’t care to” thing, but I was used to it. By the time I was done, my glass was dry and my heart had been thoroughly wrung out. With nothing more to say, I exhaled heavily and sunk into his big, fluffy couch while I let the whisky do its work.
Luther went from onyx statue to normal-ish animated person by clapping his hands on his knees. “My oh my, but you sure do know how to stir a hornets’ nest. That lost look on your face tells me quite a lot. Want to hear it?”
I replied with the sort of lackadaisical, head-tilted shrug that only the fully resigned or emotionally exhausted can display. “Shoot. I’m all ears.”
He sat back, intertwining his fingers like a shrink doing their best Freud impression. “First, you’re happy because of your reunion with Fallyn but devastated because you lost Finnegas. You’re too conflicted to allow yourself to enjoy the former, and it’s way too soon for you to have accepted the latter.”
I pursed my lips and wobbled my hand back and forth. “Yes and no. I’ve had more time to process than you think.”
“Still, it is affecting you. Second, you’re at a loss for what to do to deal with Badb and Fuamnach, not to mention your mother and the return of all those memories. Finnegas likely intended Leanne to replace him as your mentor and guide, yet you’ve staunchly refused her help because you’re holding all that childhood angst against her.”
“Okay, I’ll admit that you’re getting warmer,” I said in a reluctant tone.
“Finally, you think that Maeve, Samson, and I have conspired somehow to steer you in a certain direction, molding and shaping you for some perceived future purpose that we kept from you until present day.”
“Well, I have been feeling kind of ‘chosen one-ish’ lately,” I remarked without even a hint of irony in my voice. “It’s a vibe I can’t seem to shake.”
Luther hollowed his cheeks as he sucked air through his teeth—a human affectation, done for my benefit. He had a ton of them, a necessity for working with the public. “The real question is, are heroes born or made? That’s what you want to know, correct?”
I tapped the side of my nose and pointed in his general direction. “Bingo.”
“In that case, my friend… let me tell you a story.”
Thirty minutes later, I felt like I knew even less than I did when I arrived. “So, you’re telling me that Finnegas kept you all in the dark about me? That all he ever told you was ‘keep the kid alive, we’re going to need him someday’?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees as I ran my fingers through my hair. “Fuh-uck.”
“That said, I think the key to his grand scheme is in that diary, or journal, or whatever it is. Most likely a grimoire, but of what who can say? The old druid was wily and conniving, and he played a very long game. My advice is that you keep it—”
“—secret and safe, I know.”
“Forgive the overwrought reference, but I’m simply trying to speak in the language that you’re most likely to understand. Incidentally, Samson knows as much as I, which is why he sent you to me for an explanation. The ornery, long in the tooth bastard was too cowardly to tell you himself.”
“Or lazy. Or grouchy. Take your pick.”
“He likes you,” Luther said. “He just doesn’t like the fact that his daughter chose you as her mate.”
“You know, when you say it like that, it sounds like I had no say in the matter.”
“Did you? I was under the impression that when a dominant female werewolf chose her mate, there was little the male could do about it.”
“Huh. I guess I did make her work for it. Truth be told, though, the girl was relentless. She pretty much wore me down, like Chinese water torture but a lot more enjoyable.”
“Ah, to be young and pursued,” the old vamp mused. “May the two of you grow old together and have many, many children.”
“‘Many children’? Don’t rush me, dude,” I said in a serious voice. “And don’t you dare bring that subject up in front of Fallyn. Hell, I don’t know if I’d even want to bring a kid into this life. Maybe down the road, if I can get to a point where the world isn’t ending on a daily basis.”
“You’d be a great dad,” Luther teased.
“Changing the subject now,” I said. “Besides figuring out the journal or whatever it is, what other advice can you give me? Because I am shit out of ideas.”
He stroked his chin with one hand while swirling his cocktail in the other. “Hmm. First off, you can’t face those two head on, that’s for certain. If I were in your shoes, I’d want to deal with the lesser threat first, which seems to be Fuamnach. And I’d want to recruit an expert to help me find her weaknesses.”
“Crowley.”
“Precisely.”
“That’s all well and good,” I said, “but remember that I’m the one who got his home demolished by said sorceress. I’m not even sure he’ll want to help me after the way I outed him to his adoptive mother. Plus, I have no idea how to find him.”
“Belladonna will know. They’ve been working together of late.”
I snapped my fingers. “Ah, right—the detective agency.”
“Indeed. I hired them to handle some rather nasty business not long ago. Her rates are way too low, but don’t tell her I said that.”
“Luther, this is Bells we’re talking about here. You shouldn’t lowball your friends, man.”
“Never mix business and pleasure, my young friend. Nor business and friendships. Keeping the two separate is vital to maintaining both.”
“I’ll take that under consideration. Any other fatherly advice to give?”
“
Only that you should keep me on speed dial. When the time comes to face Badb down, you’ll need all the allies you can get. I’ll help, if I can.”
We stood, and I extended my hand. “Thanks, Luther.”
He waved the gesture off, instead pulling me into a hug. “I don’t have many real friends, Colin,” he said as he clapped my back and stepped away. “Only a long string of lovers and a coven that fears me above all else. If it’s all the same, I’d like to keep the friends I have.”
His candid and uncharacteristic expression of affection flummoxed me—I had no idea what to say. “Thanks, man,” was all I could manage without getting choked up.
“You are such a dude,” he chided, then he pointed a finger in the air as if recalling a forgotten task. “Before you run off to avoid having a case of the feels, there’s something I failed to mention. The yōkai keeps coming by the shop looking for you. Apparently, you two have important business to attend?”
“The tall, bird-like man, or the tiny, anime-looking chick?”
“The bespoke suit,” Luther said.
“Ah, that’s Hideie.” The tengu was a sharp dresser, after all. “Anything else?”
“The man gave no details. He only requested I tell you to come find him when you and I next spoke.”
I clucked my tongue, as I didn’t have time for side quests, but I also really didn’t want my swordmaster to be pissed off at me. Hacking him off usually made for very painful training sessions. “Okay. I’ll see if I can’t fit a visit in, so he stops bothering you.”
“And go see Maeve. She might have information the alpha and I don’t.”
Gritting my teeth at the thought of facing Maeve, I decided to put it off and check in on Hideie instead.
12
When the Oak dropped me off outside Hideie’s flat, the first thing I noticed was that his door was slightly ajar. Standard precautions being what they were when you were hunted by one of the Morrígna, I approached while hidden behind a chameleon spell and Mom’s obfuscation. Choosing caution over carelessness, I reached into my Bag to wrap my fingers around Dyrnwyn’s hilt, drawing it so could be armed in case of an ambush.
