Earth's Blood (Earth Reclaimed)

by Ann Gimpel

  Aislinn glanced at the book in his lap. “What language is that written in?”

  Bran quirked a brow. “Greek.”

  “Hmph. Handy you’ve been alive for so long. I suppose you know Latin, too, just like Fionn?”

  “The interesting part,” Fionn inserted before Bran had a chance to answer, “is Marta knew both languages well enough to keep journals in them.”

  “Quiet.” Bran’s tone was deadly serious. “’Tis nigh onto a miracle you are all still here. Marta’s parents built this house at the conjunction of psychic fault lines. My guess is the Lemurians told them exactly where to put it, but Marta doesna go into that part.”

  Aislinn’s brow creased. “Translate, please.”

  “What he means”—Fionn jumped to his feet and moved to peer over Bran’s shoulder—“is that this house could serve as a gateway to another world—or mayhap more than one.” His gaze scanned the page. Apparently not finding what he was looking for, he reached a finger to turn it.

  “Doona bother.” Bran slapped his hand away. “What ye seek is here.” He riffled the pages, flipped a few backward, then pointed at a passage and read Marta’s words, “The original plan was for the dark gods to enter Earth from here. I foiled that by trapping my parents in those caskets and setting wards around the gateway.”

  Aislinn sprang to her feet because she couldn’t bear sitting still. “So, all that chanting at power points around the world happened because the dark gods couldn’t get through here?” She heard a shrill note in her voice and tried to rein it in.

  “’Twould appear so,” Bran concurred.

  Her father’s murder at the hands of two of the dark gods rose before Aislinn’s eyes. It played in slow motion like a bad movie she couldn’t turn off and her eyes filled with tears.

  “Gwydion!” Bran and Fionn screeched in unison, startling her out of her funk.

  “What?” Then she realized she hadn’t seen the master enchanter all day. “Where is he?”

  “Sitting guard over the hybrids. Damn it!” Bran bolted out of his seat and raced through the door in a flash, calling over his shoulder, “I must tell him to take care with his magic, else the lot of us could end up…elsewhere.”

  “I don’t understand. Why?” Even though she’d asked, Aislinn wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  Fionn puffed out an exasperated sounding breath, but he looked more worried than angry. “When ye are verra close to fault lines—think weak spots—betwixt the worlds, it doesna take much magic to fracture them. Bran is right. We could have been sucked through a hole last night. Christ knows we blew through enough magic to bring down half the countryside.”

  She tried to form coherent thoughts, but her mind felt sluggish. “Ah, where would we have ended up?”

  “I doona know, lass.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Her voice rose, shrill tone back in spades. Listening to herself set her teeth on edge.

  “There are many worlds.” He inhaled sharply. “’Tis not like ye learned in school. There are no geographic maps delineating which world sits just where.”

  “Why not?” She felt like she was grasping at sand slipping through her fingers.

  “Because magical worlds move around.”

  Sorry I asked.

  Aislinn glanced past Fionn. Her reflection stared back at her, captured by the large mirror mounted over the fireplace. She blinked stupidly, not realizing until that moment just how bad she looked. Her face was pale and drawn, with spots of color high on both cheeks. Shadows etched dark hollows beneath her eyes, and her long hair hung in strings around her face. She hadn’t gotten a chance to wash it after her ordeal in Taltos. Her quick rinse in the tub hadn’t made a dent in the grease gluing the strands into clumps.

  Aislinn clamped her jaws together to keep from screaming. She didn’t like things she couldn’t understand, and gateways into the unknown held a definite creep factor. Fionn opened his mouth. She supposed he was about to clarify what he knew about parallel worlds and how they played off one another. She shook her head because she was on overload and didn’t want to hear any more.

  “How about if we find Rune?” she mumbled. “At least we can solve that puzzle. Besides, I’d really like to be able to tell Dewi she was wrong.”

  “Mo croi.” Fionn stepped close and wrapped his arms around her. The familiar scent of him, exotic and spicy, filled her nostrils. He felt warm and solid and comforting.

  It’s illusion. He can’t protect me any better than he protected Gwydion last night. I have to take care of myself.

  “Aye, lass,” he said, obviously having been inside her mind—again. “But doona forget I would move heaven and earth to keep you safe.”

  For a moment, she let herself cling to him. Then she straightened, turned around, and walked out the door, intent on finding her wolf.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Fionn flung himself after Aislinn. He had no intention of letting her face whatever truths she was about to drag out of Rune by herself. Moreover, he had to admit he was intrigued. He hadn’t had any sort of hound since migrating to the new world during the late seventeen hundreds. For a moment, he wondered if Tuiren still lived. She’d birthed hundreds of litters before he left. None of the puppies had inherited her immortality, though. He snorted. His aunt had such a roving eye, it wouldn’t surprise him if half the dogs in the world were loosely related to her.

  Fionn set his jaw in a hard line. Dewi was a problem. While her highhandedness fit in well enough in the Old Country, where people had more tolerance for magic—and respect for magical creatures—it was a definite impediment here. The dragon would throw a fit if Aislinn carried through on her threat to never set foot on her back again, particularly if there was fighting to be done.

  He tried to get his thoughts in rational order as he hurried along, but they weren’t cooperating. He actually didn’t blame Aislinn for not trusting Dewi. The dragon tended to her own interests—first, foremost, and always. She was used to being treated with absolute deference. He gritted his teeth. Both the dragon and Aislinn had to be irritated by the ancient linkage that bound them. Dewi demanded obedience. Aislinn demanded respect. It didn’t seem those two requirements could coexist in the same plane.

  Tara had run from the dragon’s incessant demands, but Aislinn had nowhere to run to. Besides, having lost Tara, Fionn assumed Dewi would track Aislinn to the ends of the Earth—if not beyond.

  “In here, Fionn.” Aislinn called from the front of the house.

  “Be right there.” He wanted to get his feelings under better control. While Aislinn wasn’t terribly adept at mind-reading, she could look at his face and intuit what he was thinking without making a trip inside his head. He’d been shocked at her reaction to his casual remark about children earlier in the day. He thought she’d be pleased and he could use it as a springboard to tell her she carried his son… Fionn swallowed hard. She’d probably figure it out soon enough. Fear bit deep that she’d use magic to abort their child, maybe without even mentioning it to him.

  He buried his concerns, arranged his face in neutral lines, and walked into the formal living room, which was furnished in nineteenth-century French design. Floral couches with carved legs lined two walls, and large soft chairs and mahogany tables were scattered about. Cut crystal lighting fixtures, useless without electricity, hung from the ceiling and sat on tables. He twitched a dust cover off an upholstered chair and sat. Aislinn had taken a matching chair. It looked as if she was waiting for him to begin her discussion with the wolf.

  Uncharacteristically silent, Rune and Bella faced away from him. The pair stared out an enormous bay window.

  “What?” He gestured at their bond animals. “Are they mad at us?”

  “I don’t know.” Aislinn sighed. “They were like that when I came in here, and neither seems inclined to turn around.”

  Fionn clucked. The raven flew to him and settled heavily on his shoulder. She dug her talons in deep. He winced and
reached a hand to loosen her grip.

  “Okay, Rune,” Aislinn said. “I don’t want to have to order you over here. How about if you come closer?”

  “Why?” His lush tail swished back and forth, but he didn’t turn around.

  “We need to talk. Dewi says you’re related to Fionn. Do you know anything about that?”

  The wolf got to his feet and shook himself from head to toe. When he twirled to face her, fury sparked from his amber gaze, and a low, rumbly growl filled the air. “That dragon has to leave. I can’t, so she must.”

  “You didn’t answer me,” Aislinn said gently. “I need to sort this out first.”

  He walked stiffly toward her and stopped about five feet away. Hackles quivered the length of his back. “Yes, I am descended from Celtic lineage. All of us—dogs and wolves alike—spring from Cŵn Annwn.”

  “Isn’t that the Wild Hunt?”

  Rune nodded. “But that does not make me any more closely aligned to Fionn than any other wolf.” He growled again. “That dragon is a meddling, malicious bitch—”

  “Enough.” Fionn infused just enough command into his voice to keep Rune from saying any more. For all he knew, Dewi was listening. She had a nasty habit of eavesdropping.

  “Wait.” Aislinn held up a hand. “I wasn’t done.” She focused on Rune, meeting his gaze evenly. “Soon after we met, you told me you had another name. What is it?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I just do. I have Healed you three times now. Surely that means you could trust me with your true name.”

  “Three?”

  “Outside the ruins of my home in Salt Lake, in the tunnels under Taltos, and last night.”

  The wolf hung his head. “You win, bond mate. My true name is Cuchulainn.”

  “After the blacksmith turned warrior?” Fionn asked, thinking this was getting odder by the moment.

  Rune didn’t answer him.

  “How did you find out your name?” Aislinn had her head cocked to one side, brows drawn together.

  “Marta used magic to scry it. She told me to guard it well because the dark could use it to trap me.” He hesitated. “She discovered my name only a few weeks before she was killed.”

  Fionn cloaked his thoughts. That was not how any creature discovered its true name, but he wasn’t about to tell the wolf. Either the gods graced you with it. Or they didn’t. Marta had had something up her sleeve. What the hell was it?

  “It’s a beautiful name.” Aislinn smiled softly. She reached toward the wolf, but he didn’t nuzzle her hand. “I swear I will conceal it so well no one will see it by accident in my mind.”

  “As will I,” Fionn concurred. I wonder if Marta wrote anything about this in those books of hers.

  Rune bowed his head crisply, snapping it up after a moment. “Thank you. Now, about Dewi—”

  “I was just thinking about that afore I came in here,” Fionn cut in. “She needs something to do. She wouldna cause nearly as much trouble if she were occupied.”

  “Do you suppose she knew about this house being on the fault lines between worlds and unstable?” Aislinn asked.

  “What?” Bella squawked. “We’ve been in danger the whole time we’ve been here?”

  Fionn stroked her feathers. “Ssssh. Aye, but we’re all still here, so no harm was done.”

  “The dragon probably knew,” Rune snarled. “It would be just like her to know something like that and not bother to mention it.”

  Something in the wolf’s tone nagged at Fionn. “It’s almost as if you knew her from somewhere before.” He focused on the wolf and tried to see into his mind, but Rune shut him out. Lacking the Hunter bond, Fionn retreated. No point in alienating Aislinn’s bond mate.

  “Marta had several run-ins with Dewi under Taltos,” the wolf said after a lengthy pause.

  “And?” Aislinn prodded.

  “She thought it was the Lemurians’ dragon, but it made her life hell. Once Dewi found out about me, she set traps in the yard.” Another snarl. “She almost killed me once when Marta wasn’t here. I was much more careful where I stepped after nearly being blown to bits next to the garage.”

  “Oh, Rune.” Aislinn looked stunned; her lips pressed into a thin line. “I had no idea. You should have said something.” She reached for the wolf, but he turned his head away.

  Fionn pounded a fist into his open palm, trying to mitigate his fury so he could think. When he got really angry, all he wanted to do was kill whatever stood in his way. That wouldn’t work here. The Celtic gods had proscriptions against killing one another. Like it or not, Dewi was one of them.

  Och aye, and doona we have enough problems without an entitled, renegade dragon who thinks it’s still the Middle Ages?

  “Not that I don’t believe you”—he looked at Rune—“but how did you know it was her?”

  “Smell, how else? The dragon has a unique scent, not at all like the Old Ones, even though both are reptiles.”

  Aislinn winced. “Uh, I hope Dewi’s not listening. She’ll make us all pay. Being likened to a snake would really piss her off.”

  “Ask me if I care. She needs to leave, because I don’t trust her.” Rune turned so his butt faced Aislinn.

  Fionn made a sound midway between a snort and a grunt. He was surprised by how rude it sounded when it came out. “I need to talk with Bran and Arawn. So that means we wait till Arawn shows up. Besides, then I can take stock of who he brings with him and how much help they’ll be.”

  “Help with what?” Aislinn looked at him.

  “With whatever plan we come up with to get enough distance from our present problems so we can go back to trying to oust the dark gods.”

  “Oh.” She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “If they keep us busy enough with minutiae, we’ll never get back to that little project.”

  “Smart lass. That may well be their strategy. I am certain they are all still reeling from the loss of Slototh. They saw themselves as invincible, yet ye outwitted one of them in a single afternoon. ’Tis proud I am. And infinitely grateful ye dinna get yourself killed.”

  Color rose to her cheeks. “Uh, thanks. I think.”

  Aislinn slid out of her chair onto the floor and extended her arms. After a long hesitation, Rune turned, walked into them, and let her hold him. It warmed Fionn’s heart to see the two of them. A softness shone from Aislinn’s eyes, and he imagined the young woman she’d been before the dark gods had robbed her of her family—and her hopes and dreams. Before he knew her well, he’d asked her once where her human parts had gone. Her terse reply was they’d died right along with her father in the Bolivian Andes.

  He let his eyes close for a moment. If he had his way, he’d whisk Aislinn to his manor house outside Inishowen in Northern Ireland. He knew it was still standing, because he’d set strong wards about it. Besides, he’d just been there a few months ago, right before he’d met Aislinn. Bella’s talons dug in hard enough to hurt. Probably hard enough to draw blood. Fionn sucked in a breath, about to scold her, but the raven used him for a launching pad, pushed off, and flew out of the room.

  Hmmmm…mayhap ’tis not only Dewi who’s a jealous mistress here.

  He got to his feet. “I’m going to look in on Bran and Gwydion.”

  “Think I’ll just stay here with Rune.” Aislinn stroked his head.

  “All right, leannán. See you presently. Until then”—he tried for diplomacy, since Aislinn did not like being told what to do—“it might be best if ye dinna go outside.”

  “I have no intention of trying to talk with Dewi, if that’s what you mean. I’m appalled she tried to kill Rune. And for no reason. She was just indulging in sport, probably bored as hell wandering up and down that infernal tunnel under Taltos. No wonder she was so excited when I showed up. Even if I hadn’t been the MacLochlainn, I was a diversion.” Aislinn paused. “Say, why couldn’t you give her another assignment? Like watching the fracture lines, or whatever it is this house sits on.”
>
  “That’s not a bad idea, lass. Problem is, she’d have to agree. Mayhap there’d be some way to trick her into it.”

  “Run it past the others.”

  “I will.”

  Fionn walked the length of the hall and mounted the attic stairs. Aislinn was right that they had to either secure Dewi’s full cooperation not to launch any more mischief, or get her out of the way entirely. He had a niggling hunch that Marta had figured out the dragon was Celtic and the name she’d come up with for Rune was an attempt to protect him. The wolf had loved and trusted Marta and would have believed whatever she told him.

  Fionn stepped into the attic, started to call a greeting, and froze. Both caskets were open—and empty. Bran and Gwydion stood, hands raised as if to cast a spell, but something was desperately wrong. The air had a putrid feel and a stench like decomposing flesh. If Fionn hadn’t been so deep in his own mind, he would have noticed it long before getting to the top of the stairs.

  Dark magic surged across the room. Fionn spun, sidestepped, and constructed a sloppy ward. It bought him a few moments, but that was all he needed. Something had opened the gateway. The hybrids were gone, but so were Gwydion’s and Bran’s astral selves. What he didn’t know was if they’d gone willingly, giving chase to whoever had freed the hybrids, or if something had dragged their essence from their bodies.

  Strong magic heaved against his warding. Fionn grunted from the force of it. Knowing he didn’t have much time—whatever wanted him was incredibly strong—he chanted, generating every protection spell he could think of, and walled the attic off from the rest of the house. Once he’d done all he could, he slammed the attic door and then added more layers of spells to it.

  Sweat dripped down his forehead, and the harsh sound of his breath rattled in his chest. With a final exhortation that this door will hold, goddammit, he clattered down the steps, taking them two at a time. He closed off the door from the downstairs hall and subjected it to similar treatment.