Finngarick (Order of the Black Swan, D.I.T. Book 2)

by Victoria Danann

  It took her less than an hour to find the location. It was under Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. Founded in 1191, it was the National Cathedral of the Church of Ireland. With its forty-three-meter spire, it was the tallest church in Ireland and the largest. It was also a deceptively benign disguise for a portal used frequently enough by other species, mostly elementals, to be compared to a revolving door. Black Swan had a vampire hunter unit in Dublin, but it was at full capacity and she felt strongly that D.I.T. should have a place of its own.

  So, after Grieve performed a little real estate magic, Black Swan bought a house in the neighborhood that would accommodate four teams. That was as many people as she was willing to allocate to that particular mission at that particular time. Grieve found someone through personnel who could manage housekeeping and breakfast. They agreed the hunters would either cook on their own or get meals out the rest of the time. Rosie might as well have said breakfast in, other meals out, because none of the hunters were going to spend off time cooking.

  Besides it was more fun to spend evenings at Temple Bar.

  Two of the teams going were the O’Malleys and their partners. Shivaun still wasn’t speaking to Sheridan, which compromised the joy of being newly mated, but Sher’s happiness with Finngarick couldn’t be completely overshadowed by Shivaun’s unwillingness to bend.

  No one could possibly have been more shocked than Finngarick when Rosie put him in charge of the Dublin unit for the time they were there. Sheridan wasn’t the slightest surprised.

  As she descended the stairs for breakfast, she heard Torn saying, “How can you tell if an Irishman is havin’ a good time?”

  “How?” someone said.

  “He’s Dublin over with laughter!”

  Torn’s laughing eyes jerked to Sheridan as she stepped off the bottom stair and approached the breakfast room. She knew she’d never get tired of that look that was a fiery mixture of love, lust, and possession; embers perpetually glowing ready to burst into flame with the slightest provocation.

  Teams were on call on rotating shifts. Their job was to loiter around Saint Patrick’s so that, if the new monitoring station in Edinburgh picked up activity, they’d be essentially on site and ready to go. They had to be outfitted when they were working, which meant Sher and Shy had to have their bows and quivers with them. Other equipment could be easily hidden in clothing, but the bows required a special permit arranged courtesy of Black Swan.

  Finngarick and Sheridan had enjoyed a nice breakfast and settled down on a pew inside Saint Patrick’s to spend their shift in quiet conversation, holding hands, exchanging sweet nothings and talking about what they would do someday when they retired from Black Swan.

  They both had watches that sent haptic signals when activity registered. Three times they’d given chase through the sublevel portal and once they’d thought they might actually catch their target.

  On that particular day, at that particular time Deck and Shivaun were just going off duty. Since they got the same signal at the same time, they headed downstairs via a closet passageway and reached the portal at the same time as Torn and Sher.

  “We’re here. We might as well go, too,” said Deck.

  “Fine with us,” Finngarick said, as he stepped in and disappeared.

  Shivaun caught Sheridan’s eyes for the first time in a month, but quickly looked away and followed Torn into the passes.

  Once inside, Finngarick led the way followed by Sheridan, then Shivaun with Deck bringing up the rear. There was a streak of light ahead, exactly as Rosie had described, and Finngarick pushed himself to go faster than he’d ever gone before.

  Suddenly it disappeared.

  He came to a halt and turned to motion to the others that they’d lost the target. Again.

  But when he looked behind him, he saw Deck and Shivaun, but not Sheridan. He whirled around in a circle. She wasn’t there.

  He tried to talk, forgetting that only telepaths could communicate in the passes. He sounded like he was underwater. So he motioned for them to follow and they ducked into the nearest world. He hoped it was hospitable since they didn’t have time for anything else.

  “She’s gone.”

  “Gone?” said Shivaun, looking around. She frowned. “You mean my sister?”

  “Aye. Gone! AS IN NO’ HERE!”

  “Keep your shirt on,” Deck said. “Yelling won’t get her back sooner.”

  Finngarick and Shivaun both looked at him like he was insane. In times of high emotion, people yelled. Period.

  Shivaun grabbed Torn’s shirt collar in both hands. Her facial expression was on speed morph between panic, livid, distress, and intent-to-kill. “You lost my sister?”

  “I DID NO’ LOSE HER!” He stopped and pulled Shy’s hands away from his collar. His shoulders slumped when he realized that he might have lost her. “Least I do no’ remember doin’ so. She was behind me. Then she was no’.”

  Shivaun yelled out a sound of frustration between grief and growl.

  “Look.” Deck stepped in. “This is exactly why they had us do the drills. So we could find our way back if we got separated. She’s got her compass. She’ll probably beat us back to the portal.”

  That made sense and relieved Torn’s mind. Some. “So we’ll go back,” he said.

  As she passed by to step back into the passes, Shivaun looked at him and simply said, “Fucker.”

  CHAPTER Thirteen LYRIC

  The demon, Lyric, had been looking for a mate for several centuries. When Sheridan passed by he recognized her as a comparatively rare female of his species. It seemed the serum worked. In fact, it worked well enough to fool demons into believing those who’d been injected were demons.

  He took one look at her flaming red hair, liquid brown eyes, pouty persimmon-colored lips, and plucked her out of her trajectory so quickly that her team didn’t realize she’d gone missing for several seconds.

  She looked around. Torn was gone. Deck was gone. Shivaun was gone. And she wasn’t even in the passes anymore.

  She didn’t know where she was, but she did know she was with someone. Someone outrageously attractive who was staring at her like she was the latest prize in a collection.

  “Who are you?” She demanded as she looked around with suspicion and a hint of distaste. “And what is this… place?”

  The demon’s den was partly what you’d expect from a place called a ‘den’. It was cave-like. It might have been an actual cave for all Sher knew. It had a smooth flagstone floor, sandstone walls and arched doorways that separated rooms. The center of the room featured an open flame circular fire pit. The furniture was modern, industrial chic, but the tapestries on the sandstone walls appeared to be ancient. It was as eccentric, unique, and surreal as something out of a dream, but beautiful at the same time.

  “I’m Lyric.” He bowed. “At your service.”

  “At my service?” she scoffed. “Then point me to the way out of here and I’ll be on my way.”

  He cocked his head as if curious. “You don’t know how to leave?” The way he smiled implied that he liked that idea way too much. “Stay until you get to know me. And fall in love with me, maybe. What’s your name?”

  “Fall in love with you,” she said drily. “You’re demon?”

  He cocked his head. “An odd question. What else would I be? Oh, you mean what kind of demon. As my name suggests, I’m a music demon.”

  “Music demon. Is that a real thing or are you makin’ it up?”

  He looked offended. And confused. “Of course it’s a real thing. What kind of question is that?”

  “So what do music demons do?”

  “I don’t understand the game you’re playing, but I’ll go along. Depending on the mood and the situation, we could be muses. Or whip a crowd sharing a musical experience into a frenzy. Or cause the performance to fall flat with a tiny adjustment of ions in the air. The possibilities are infinite because we’re the lords of music.” He pulled his chin up, suddenly lookin
g very smug and pleased to be him. “We can use music to enchant. I could make a person do anything just by singing to them.”

  “Lords of music. Thought that was angels.”

  He waved his hand dismissively, not at all pleased that she wasn’t impressed with his claim of being a ‘lord’ of music. “Angels.” He almost spat as he said it. “They dabble, but they’re not… the real thing.” He drew the phrase out so that she would know he was paying attention to her inane little comments. “They’re not usually found around the kind of music that promotes fire down below.”

  She laughed. “Fire down below.” Sheridan was looking around the corners of the ceiling.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Cameras. Your speech suggests a prank. I saw it on the TV. Unsuspectin’ persons reactin’ to unlikely scenarios bein’ recorded for questionable entertainment.”

  “No.” Lyric’s chin dropped as his look became less patient. “There are no cameras. I am a music demon. This is my den.”

  “Oh. That’s what ‘tis.” She looked around, again, not caring that she’d left the implication of an insult hanging in the air. “Okay. I got to know you. Now put me back.”

  “Why are you in such a hurry? I’ve been waiting for company for a long time.”

  “Why’s that? No friends?”

  He looked at her curiously. “You’re not very friendly, are you? I’ve always heard that females are friendly.”

  “Females?” If not for the peculiar circumstance, she would have laughed. The suggestion that all females must be friendly was too ludicrous for any other response.

  “Yes. I saw an unmated female when I was young. I think. I can’t be sure. It was a long time ago.”

  “How long?”

  “Long. What did you say your name is?”

  She put her hands on her waist and cocked a hip, trying to decide if it would be either advantageous or disadvantageous to tell him. “Sheridan.”

  “Sheridan,” he said slowly. “A strange name for a demon.” He narrowed his eyes just before they slowly ran the length of her body from top to bottom and back again. It was uncomfortable, but she refused to let him see her squirm.

  “There’s nothin’ strange about it. BECAUSE I’M NO’ A DEMON!”

  His mouth twitched when she yelled. “That was very cute. Do it again.”

  She shook her head rapidly back and forth to indicate that she found him confusing, if not downright unhinged.

  “Yelling? You find yelling cute?” She made a mental note not to do it again. “Okay. Now we got to know each other and I really should be going. So if you’d just show me the way out so I can return to the place where you kidnapped me…”

  “Kidnapped?”

  “It means takin’ me from where I want to be, against my will, and forcin’ me to be elsewhere.”

  “First, how could I force another demon to do anything she didn’t want to do? Second, you talk funny. Speak demon.”

  “I do no’ speak demon.”

  “Of course you do. How can you be a demon and not speak demon?”

  “I’m no’ a demon,” she said through clenched teeth, determined not to yell and again be found cute for it.

  Lyric stopped to blink a couple of times. He seemed to be mentally regrouping and apparently decided to change tactics. “Would you like to sit down?”

  “No. I’d like to go. For one thing I need to use the bathroom.”

  “Bathroom?” Lyric looked baffled. “I don’t have a bathroom. Demons don’t…”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “Let me guess. Demons don’t need to go to the bathroom.” Still not understanding the game, but wanting to humor her, he nodded. “Right. Like I told you. I’m no’ a demon.”

  “Why would you smell like demon if you’re not?”

  “I… Wait a minute. I took an injection. It allows me to travel between dimensions. Maybe you’re smellin’ the stuff in my bloodstream. But like I said, I’m no’ demon.”

  “I want you to stay.”

  “But I do no’ want to stay.”

  “Stay anyway.”

  “No’ if I can help it. Look. I need to be goin’. It was very nice meetin’ you, em, Lyric. Perhaps we can be friends, but please,” she glanced toward where he’d set her bow and quiver, “give me my bow and show me the way out.”

  “You really can’t leave?” It seemed he was beginning to entertain the idea that she was sincere about her predicament.

  “If I could leave, I’d already be gone as in long gone.”

  “Why don’t you be nicer?”

  “Why don’t you just ‘enchant’ me into submission?” Sheridan wanted to slap herself in the face the instant that idea left her mouth. That was the last thing she wanted, but she’d been stupid enough to give him the idea.

  He cocked his head. “What was that?”

  “What?”

  “The wiggling of your wee fingers.”

  She stared. “First, my fingers are not ‘wee’. Second. Air quotes?”

  He scowled at that. “Air quotes? You mean demons? Sylphs? Are you conjuring? Who are you summoning? Tell me now!” He looked around as if he was preparing for attack.

  She smirked. “The god of sarcasm.”

  It was Lyric’s turn to blink. “What are you?”

  “Elf.”

  “Elf,” he repeated. Then his scowl turned into a full on frown. “Elves traveling the passes. Humans, too?” He read the answer on her face and began pacing slowly. “Elves and humans traveling the passes. The idea is both horrifying and amusing, don’t you think?”

  He considered Sheridan quietly for a minute before saying, “I’d never considered taking a mate who’s not demon. Would be easy to make you love me with my song, but then you would not love me truly.”

  She laughed in his face. “Love you truly? You’re kind of cheesy for a demon.”

  With temper momentarily flaring, he stepped toward her suddenly, causing her to take a step back. “You’re kind of cheeky for a lesser being.”

  She gaped. “Lesser bein’?”

  “You should be ecstatic that I would consider keeping you even though you’re not… elemental.”

  “Well…” She raised her chin and managed a posture of defiance. “I’m no’ ecstatic in the least. You can be assured of that. And I already have a mate.”

  Lyric’s head jerked. “You’re mated?”

  He knew what that meant and read the truth of it in the emotion she exuded. He didn’t have encyclopedic knowledge of elves and fae, but he knew they mated in a monogamous way and that the bond wouldn’t be compromised even by death. He flopped into a chrome and leather chair and sighed before saying, “That’s unfortunate. You are a lesser being, but you...” He said something in a language she didn’t understand then his eyes slid to her. “And you’re very cute.”

  “I have no interest in bein’ admired by a demon.”

  He sighed again. “Any more like you at home?” His eyes flicked to hers as he ended the question and, in the time lapse of a wink, he saw that there was indeed someone else like her. He laughed then watched her closely for her reaction to the next question. “Is she mated?”

  Sher pressed her lips together and looked away, hoping to give away nothing that could be used by the demon. But Lyric could read more than facial expression. And he sensed anxiety.

  “So. Not mated. Easy enough then. I’ll exchange you for her.”

  Sher’s anger flared. “No. You will no’.”

  Lyric chuckled. “Have I mistakenly left you with the impression that you have choices? You’re not demon. Remember? If I wanted to keep a mate by coercion, I would have enchanted you. That’s not my goal.” He rose so suddenly that Sher startled and took a step back. “Come on,” he said, grabbing her by the elbow. “Take me to my bride.”

  “I…” Sheridan stuttered, “do no’ know how to get there.”

  He took hold of her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Is that the tr
uth?”

  “Aye. ‘Tis the truth.”

  Lyric began singing, “’Cause your eyes don’t tell no lies.” As he sang he got the impression of her homing device. He stopped singing and smiled as he reached inside her shirt and pulled the compass out by the cord. He didn’t remove it from her neck, but turned it over in his hand, examining it. “You’re going home. You’re taking me and introducing me to the family. How does this work?”

  She was starting to look defeated because she knew he’d figure it out. But then she realized that Lyric couldn’t get close to Shivaun without also getting close to Declan. Or Finngarick. Or both. And the boys had the means to stop Lyric in his tracks.

  “Okay,” she said. “Follow me and I’ll introduce you to my mate.”

  “Not so fast,” Lyric said. “What are you planning? You may not be demon, but you are devious. Let’s not be hasty. I’d like to sort through the possibilities.”

  Sheridan took in a deep breath. “Bathroom,” was all she said.

  “Oh, of course, my dear.” He waved a hand toward a hallway to Sher’s right. “End of the hall.”

  “You’ve had a bathroom this whole time?”

  He looked at her like she was being silly. “No. The bathroom is new. As in minutes new.”

  “Oh.” She glanced back and forth before sidling to the hallway, wanting to leave, but not wanting to let the demon out of her sight.

  “I suppose you’re also going to need food. And drink.” He sounded put upon and disappointed that she wasn’t what he’d thought.

  “No’ if you let me go.”

  CHAPTER Fourteen How Was Your Day?

  Glen had gotten to-go from the Mess and brought it back to the Sovereign’s apartment at Jefferson Unit so that he and Rosie could have dinner alone. It was early for dinner for him and late for dinner for her because they were working in time zones five hours apart. Glen could have had dinner delivered, but Rosie had come home in such a snit, he decided to go to the Mess personally and give her some time alone.