by Sarra Cannon
“I wouldn’t be too cocky, lass. Marta may have other surprises for us. I know I would.” He eyed Bella. The raven was perched in a large cottonwood tree, preening her glossy black feathers. “You stay there. I’m not sure we have a safe path yet. Or that we need you inside at all.”
“Yes, I do not care for inside.” With a squawk, the raven went back to grooming herself, apparently still annoyed about Aislinn’s chicken analogy.
They crept forward. Spooked by Fionn’s pronouncement, Aislinn kept her Mage senses alert and fanned about her. They’d no sooner cleared the warding surrounding the house, when a muted buzzing that grew louder by the moment broke the late afternoon’s silence.
“Bees,” Fionn hissed.
“No,” Aislinn corrected, seeing them, “wasps.” She slapped a ward around herself. For a time, all she could see was wasp bodies trying to get to her, stingers embedded in her ward. Suddenly, they fell away en masse. “What the hell?” she muttered and cautiously withdrew her protective spell. She tried to avoid stepping on the wasps, but there were so many it was impossible. Small bodies squished under her boots.
“I killed them.” Fionn’s voice was harsh. Angry welts covered his face and neck. “Let’s tackle the house.”
“How many stung you?”
Glancing at her, he shook his head, looking annoyed. “Oh, not more than a couple dozen. You were damned quick with your warding. Nice work.” Grudging admiration rang beneath his words.
“Once we get to the bottom of Marta’s protections, I can Heal those.”
“Thanks. I may take you up on that.” He hesitated fractionally and then favored her with a wanton grin. “I am perfectly capable of healing myself, lass, but I far prefer the feel of your magic against my skin than my own.”
“You’re thinking about sex?” she demanded. “Now? We have to figure out a way in—” Realizing what she’d just said, she laughed.
“Yes,” he chuckled. “I am all about finding ways into things. Especially you. Careful now.” They made their way to the front of the house and up the steps, stopping a short distance from the door. “Rune,” Fionn called to the wolf, “open the door for us.”
“Smart,” Aislinn murmured. “He’ll have a way both in and out that won’t hurt him.”
“Maybe.”
The door swung inward soundlessly, as if someone had just oiled the hinges. Fionn held up a hand. “Let me go first.”
She pushed outward with her Mage senses.
“Stop that!” Fionn’s voice was sharp. “The wolf may have a way through the wards, but you could blow it to smithereens with magic.”
“Sorry. Hadn’t thought about a self-destruct aspect.” She hastily pulled every shred of her power back inside herself and then tried to make herself close to invisible, even quieted her breathing.
Fionn crept forward. At the last moment, he dropped to his knees and leaned back. The swoosh of metal grated, harsh against her ears. Blades sprang from the upper doorsill, crisscrossing in the middle. They would’ve sliced Fionn in half if he’d stepped over the lintel.
“How did you know?” she cried.
“Sensed it. Marta left the lower portion open. Maybe she thought someone might force Rune to bring them here.”
A low whine sounded from just inside the house. “I did not know. I am grateful you were not injured,” Rune said. “Sorry—”
“Hush.” Fionn ducked under the crossed blades. “Your bondmate loved you very much. No need to apologize for that. Aislinn, come on.”
She looked at the half doorway, took off her pack, kicked it through, and followed Fionn inside. Straightening, she looked around. In contrast to the rundown appearance of the outside, the interior was spotless. Not so much as a speck of dust lay on anything. Furnished with antiques to match the age of the home, it looked as if she’d stumbled into a nineteenth century museum. The low hum of magic reached her ears. Must be why the house is still clean. “What did Marta do for a living?” she asked Rune.
“She was a doctor. And she kept on doctoring until close to the end. People still got sick after the dark ones came.” Rune’s voice resonated with pride.
Aislinn ruffled his fur. “Wonderful news,” she murmured. Then she thought about her Healer magic. Perhaps she didn’t really need anything as prosaic as penicillin anymore, but she’d look through whatever Marta had just the same. “Do you suppose there are medicines left here?”
“We don’t require them, but it seems likely,” Fionn said. “No one else would’ve been able to storm the fortress. By Brigid’s tits, we barely got in.”
Aislinn giggled. “Goddess, eh? Is she a friend of yours? And does she have nice tits?”
“Yes to all three.”
“On a more serious note, do you think we’ve hit the last of Marta’s little surprises to trap the unwary?”
He cocked his head to one side. Strands of blond hair swung across his eyes. “Not sure. We won’t know until we’re through searching the rooms.”
“I can show you where her study was,” Rune offered, “and where she saw patients.”
“Let’s save the study for last,” Fionn said. “If there are more wards, that’s where I would’ve placed them.”
They started with the kitchen. Aislinn pulled cupboards and drawers open. “Oh my God,” she exclaimed excitedly. “There’s food here. Real food. Flour and sugar. Where the fuck would she have gotten those? And rice and noodles.” A broad smile split her face. “We might stay here until it’s gone. I don’t have anything nearly this sumptuous at my house.” She looked at Fionn. “Neither do you.”
“We could take some of it with us,” Fionn suggested.
“You don’t understand.” She stopped in the center of the kitchen and turned to face him, hands on her hips. “I’ve been hungry for most of the last three years. Besides, I’ve never had much luck transporting food. Though it might work if it wasn’t in cans.”
“Och aye, and I do understand.” He met her gaze. “But you’re not alone anymore.”
So that means I don’t get to make my own decisions.
“Yes.” His voice was even. “It means that and other things as well.”
She pounded a fist on the stone counter. “Damn it.” Her voice rose to a shriek. She tried to modulate it, but it was too late. “Stay out of my head.” She barreled out of the kitchen and right into something that felt like a thousand watt fence. The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness was feeling like all her cells had fried.
— —
The high ceilinged room swam into focus. Fionn chanted something in Gaelic, breaking off to shout, “Yes!” as soon as her eyes fluttered open. Aislinn felt magic leave her body as he withdrew his spell. She lay on her back on the hardwood floor in the kitchen, her head cradled on his lap. Rune was licking her face and saying her name over and over in her mind.
She struggled to sit, but Fionn held her in place. “Not yet, mo croi. I nearly lost you. Go easy. Here.”
He tipped a flask against her lips. She sputtered as he poured mead down her throat, but felt better once its heat spread through her. Apparently satisfied that between him and the mead, she’d been reclaimed from death’s door, he helped her sit.
“Have some more.” He handed her the flask. “Just so you’re not surprised, I fixed your face while I was about things. Oh, and I got rid of the Old Ones’ marks on you, too.”
Memory of what she’d done flooded her. “Sorry,” she mumbled and took another hefty swig of mead. Reaching curious fingers to where the dragon’s gash had been, she found smooth skin. Aislinn tried to smile. “Uh, thanks. Why’d you remove the tattoos?”
“That’s how they track you.” Not only was he not smiling, his brows were drawn together, darkening his perfect features.
Her body tensed. “Why those dirty, fucking bastards. They told me it was so I’d have access to some of their memories.”
“At least that part is true. I take it you didn’t know the rest?�
��
She shook her head. “That was pretty stupid of me not to realize.” She winced. “And incredibly stupid to go flying through that doorway.”
“Glad you said it so I don’t have to.” He shot her a look. “It shortens the lecture, but doesn’t excuse you entirely. Never, never, never run off half-cocked in a strange place where you don’t know what booby traps someone might have set.”
I deserved that.
“Yes, and likely a good deal more, but I’ll stop there. Can you get up?”
“I think so.” Her insides wobbled, but she felt mostly like herself.
Rune rubbed against her leg. “I am grateful to Fionn. When you hit the floor, I was certain you were dead.”
“She was,” Fionn said, his voice thick with emotion. “But we managed, you and me, didn’t we?” He stroked Rune from head to tail. “Fortunately”—he looked pointedly at Aislinn—“your wolf follows directions.”
“Not always,” she shot back. “I presume I stumbled into the study.” She gestured to a door on the far side of the kitchen, opposite to the one that led to the main hallway and front door.
Fionn nodded. “It’s the only part of the house, other than the attic and basement, we haven’t looked at. How about if you stay in the kitchen while I figure out how to get past her wards? It shouldn’t be all that difficult since we untangled the ones around the house.”
“I could go through her medicines while you do that.”
Fionn frowned. “Show me where Marta kept them,” he told the wolf. “You stay here,” he called over one shoulder. “Don’t even think about moving.”
Her temper simmered at being ordered about, but she called it to heel. It had nearly gotten her killed with her headlong dash into the equivalent of an electrified fence.
I need to think more. React less.
To divert herself, she started with the kitchen cupboards, moving dry goods to the spacious stone countertops. It was obvious after the first cupboard that Marta had stocked far more food than they could ever carry away from her house. “I have it,” she murmured. “We’ll just reset those wards. That way, we can come back here to restock.” She wondered how easy it would be to retract the swords guarding the front door, but assumed there had to be some way to accomplish it. They’d left the front door open, rather than taking time to figure out how to get it closed again.
She’d started putting food back into the cupboards when Fionn called her. She stopped what she was doing, stepped into the main hallway, and followed the sound of his voice. Polished interior doors graced both sides of the hall. Aislinn’s booted feet sank into a lovely, patterned Oriental rug runner. Just before the passage ended, she turned into a room lined with glass-fronted cabinets.
“Marta’s medical office seems safe enough,” Fionn said, giving her a quick kiss. “I’m off to solve the study problem.”
“Wait,” she called after him. “What about the Lemurians’ knowledge? What did I lose along with those tattoos?”
“Nothing,” he grunted, glancing back at her. “I know everything they did and more.” He disappeared down the hall before she could ask anything further.
“I will stay with you.” Rune licked her hand. The wolf seemed pathetically grateful she hadn’t died. When Aislinn thought about it, she could see why. Rune had loved Marta. It would’ve been hard for him if her magic caused the death of his new bondmate.
“Wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I like your company.”
Low whines, mingled with small whuffy sounds, filled the air. If Rune had been a cat, he would’ve been purring, but she decided not to tell him that. Aislinn squatted next to him and hugged him hard. He licked her face, and she realized she was crying. What’s happened to me? I’m an emotional mess. Got to pull myself together. Snuffling, she stood and began checking the contents of Marta’s medical office.
“Holy shit,” she told Rune after a few minutes. “There’s nothing she didn’t have here. Wonder how the hell she restocked her medicines and medical supplies after the places she bought them closed down?”
“Probably the same way she came by all that food. She used her Hunter magic to find far more than the dark.” Fionn stood in the doorway. She hadn’t heard him approach, possibly because the thick carpet muffled his footsteps. “I cleared the electrical field.”
“Wow! You did that really fast.”
“Magic wielders use similar patterns for all their spells. It was akin to the outside wards, so I was able to figure it out easily enough.”
Aislinn turned to gaze at him. Lines creased his face that she didn’t remember seeing before. She could only guess the strain of watching her die and being afraid his magic wouldn’t be up to the task of bringing her back. “Thanks,” she said softly, “for saving my life.”
He closed the distance between them in two long strides. “Don’t you get it yet?” he said against her hair as his arms closed tight about her. “I’m not sure how it happened, but you and I are fated to be together. The blood of the earliest Irish kings dances in your veins. For years, I sought you, settling for others when it seemed an impossible task. In truth, I despaired ever finding you. I tried everything. Nothing ever worked. You asked me before about children. That was why I never had any. I couldn’t find their proper mother.” He drew in a ragged breath and pulled her even closer. “I don’t understand how it is I’ve found you now, with the Earth standing at the edge of a precipice, yet here you are. And I am grateful.”
“I was foretold somehow?” Her voice was muffled against his chest. What he said didn’t seem possible. In spite of the warmth of his arms, it gave her the creeps.
“Och aye, lassie. My lassie. Heart of my heart, breath of my breath. I shall be holding you still when light leaches out of the world.” The Gaelic words swirled, soft against her ears.
“My mother used to sing me that.”
“Of course she did. Because you are royalty from the ancient line. Your mother was an Irish queen.”
Chapter 16
“How could you possibly know that?” Aislinn pushed back far enough to look at him.
“I’ve been inside you. Held your blood in my hands. In my soul. You’ve done enough Healing. You understand how it’s done—”
“Not what I meant. How could you know Mother was some sort of queen?”
“I recognize your blood—and hers. We thought Tara was the last of her line,” he said without missing a beat. “She disappeared from Ireland about thirty years ago. Some of my…associates have been hunting her ever since. Since she was the last living MacLochlainn, it was her duty to return to Ireland, produce children with a proper father—”
She waved him to silence, trying to think. “Mom and Dad met at Cambridge.” She counted back on her fingers, realizing with a shock that it had, indeed, been thirty years ago.
“Did you never visit any of your mother’s people?” His voice was soft, but insistent, as if he already knew the answer, but wanted to be sure she paid close attention to it.
“No. She told me she didn’t get on with them. That they didn’t approve of Daddy…” Her voice ran down. Could Fionn’s story possibly be true?
“Och aye, and ’tis more than true. Naught but males were born to the MacLochlainn line for centuries. They even married well outside the clans, hoping against hope to produce a female. Tara was the first since, well in a verra long time. I thought ’twas she my future was linked to. I waited for her to grow a bit, but by the time I showed up to claim her, she was gone.” He shrugged helplessly. “See, and I was wed to another. I needed to extricate myself.”
“You knew Mother?”
“Aye, that I did.”
Aislinn’s head spun. Prophecies, matches that had been preordained, or some such thing, for centuries… It was too much to get her mind around. He was still talking, but she’d stopped listening. The last thing she heard was “…and so, ’twas not her, but you—”
She shook her head. “Stop. I need to eat. All I’ve had
since we left your house this morning is mead.”
“Of course.” He sounded contrite. Hands on her shoulders, he maneuvered her toward the door.
She shook him off. “I can walk.” She heard the sharp undercurrent in her voice and felt like an ingrate. He’d just saved her life. She took a deep breath. “Can we talk about something else, please? I know I started it by asking about Mother, but I need time to make sense of all this.” And I don’t want you to be with me because of something written down hundreds of years ago… She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if he’d read those thoughts, but he didn’t give any indication. An iron bar of tension settled just between her shoulder blades. Her teeth were set so tightly her jaw ached.
“I’ll make us a meal,” he said, his voice tone carefully neutral.
“Great. Thanks.” I’m so scattered, if I cooked, God only knows what would end up in the mix. “I can start on Marta’s journals—or notes, or whatever she has.” Aislinn strode through the kitchen to the study. She felt him behind her, but made a conscious effort to not look back. Her heart was such a muddle she needed some alone time.
Marta had bound journals. Years’ worth of them. She’d apparently begun setting her thoughts to paper during medical school and had never stopped. It took Aislinn a while to determine just which of the leather-bound volumes covered the years since the Surge. Finally, she found one for each year. Thinking that felt manageable, she settled at a cozy antique mahogany desk with glass-fronted cubbies, called up her mage light since the afternoon was long gone, and began to read.
— —
“Here you go.” Fionn plopped a good-sized bowl in front of her. It smelled wonderful.
She smiled. It had been good to have a break from thinking about her family and his insistence she was his long-lost soul mate. “Looks good. What’s in it?”
“Rice. Dried meat. Dried vegetables, herbs. I’ll fetch mine. Do you want mead or water?”
