A hypodermic needle.
The plunger fully depressed.
The empty needle rolled from his hand and dropped onto the floor.
Lugh stumbled. "What have you done?"
"You were starved for magic. I've given it to you." False friendliness dripped from Gareth's words.
"Not dark magic." The cold rush disorienting him, Lugh dropped to a knee. He clutched at his side as if he might forestall the cold leaching through his body. "I am Light. I can't…" The dark magic spread through the agony of the Fade, transforming it. "I can't have this. Not darkness."
A snarl twisted Gareth's handsome face. "You wanted to merge the Light Court with the Dark Court? You think light magic and dark magic can commingle and not destroy each other?" He crouched before Lugh, just out of arm's reach as he gloated.
Lugh stared into the elf's cold eyes. The bitterness there. The hatred. But there was more. Pupils dilated so wide that his irises appeared black. The same dark madness with which he'd poisoned Lugh infused the wood elf.
"You destroyed the Mounds, Seelie. You destroyed my family. You destroyed my life." With an evil smile, Gareth whispered, "Now, I've destroyed you."
"Be gone from me viper." Lugh snarled, lips curled back in a threat.
The Changeling in the guise of a dark elf placed a hand on Gareth's shoulder. "You've had your revenge." With a sideways flick of his head he dismissed him.
Gareth cast one last look at Lugh. No doubt memorizing this moment so he might relive his triumph. Then he teleported away. Something no Fading fey should have been able to achieve. Gareth hadn't simply forestalled the Fade with this dark magic, but had given himself fully over to it. So possessed of the foreign enchantment, he was no longer the man he once had been, but a wretched, consumed creature.
Frozen tendrils of the enchantment vined through Lugh, spreading with the persistence of ivy. It twisted within him, reaching ever deeper. Lugh eased himself onto the edge of the fountain. He drew up a cupped handful of the fresh water to drink, and then splashed his face with it. Nothing cleared his head. The magic vibrated down his arms and legs. It coiled into his mind like a shadow. Lugh covered his face with his hands, struggling to preserve his integrity, yet feeling it start to slip from his grasp.
"He thought dark magic would kill you, Sun Sidhe. You and I both know better, don't we?" The Changeling circled around, easing up beside him. "The eclipse doesn't destroy you. It frees you."
Lugh checked his side. The bruising of the dark magic lessened as it spread into his body. Under no circumstances could he allow himself to give in to the temptation of dark magic. Not he, who was the epitome of the light. Once before, he'd been poisoned with dark magic, and the eclipse of the sun was a period that no one who witnessed could scrub from their nightmares.
Lugh trembled, struggling to resist the shadow that spread through him. As the magic reached his fingers, Lugh flexed his hand. Now that the dark magic filled his void, the pain dissipated. "I don't want this."
"Oh, but you really do." The Changeling purred, as friendly and tempting as a demon. "There is no reason to suffer. Surely no sense in it."
And suffer he had. Day by day the Fade stripped more of his life away, leaving agony in its wake. If not for the Fade, repairing the Veil would have been no drain upon him.
Lugh flinched away from the Changeling. "You've already poisoned me. Why are you wasting your breath?"
"I've not poisoned you, Lugh." The Changeling laughed, as if they were the oldest of mates. "I've just given you a taste of what I have to offer." He pointed to the bottle still in Lugh's hand. "That magic will keep you alive. When you need more, and you will sooner or later, you can find me on the Isle of Mann. Everyone knows me. Just ask around for Deacon."
The Changeling gave him a two-finger salute and smirked as he vanished.
The spread of the darkness calmed, and it had not torn his mind asunder, just laced his thoughts with a hint of shadow. This tiny bit of dark magic had been just enough to ease the Fade. Just enough to keep him going. Lugh knew well the art of compromise. He'd no choice in this, so need carry no guilt for it. If he could turn this to his advantage, was that not the Seelie way? Besides, he had no way to purge himself of this unwanted darkness.
Some part of his mind wrestled against that logic, whispering that there was a way to rid himself of the darkness, but Lugh stifled it. There was no way to purge himself that would not leave him as he'd been; suffering and weak.
Perhaps if he allowed this much dark magic to replenish him, and no more, he could finish his work and restore the realm of the fey. Then no one need suffer the Fade any longer.
Even knowing he should cast it aside, Lugh slipped the bottle into his pocket.
Chapter Eight
That evening, Lugh strode through the neon-illuminated streets of Dublin. The black denim the wood elves gifted him fit just the way he liked, lose enough to move as freely as he desired and closely enough to give a pleasant pressure to his hips and legs. The dark, sleeveless cotton shirt kept him cool on the summer evening and didn't hamper the movement of his arms. The bottle Deacon gave him, tucked into the inside pocket of the jacket fashioned from the same fabric as the jeans, bounced against his side with each stride.
That he felt better than he had since before the Collapse was an illusion and Lugh knew it. Though the infusion of dark magic had relieved the pain of the Fade, it hadn't cured him. Lugh still had to conserve his magic; nothing changed in that.
What had changed was a desire to bite someone.
A small thing really, but a sign nonetheless of the unnatural darkness that stained him. Lugh was light. The very sun. The purest of the light magics. Dark magic affected him as it did few others, almost to the point of an allergic reaction. If he consumed it in any quantity he was no fit creature for anyone to be around. It aroused a bestial nature difficult to subdue.
But with just a taint… just a smudge… This much he could handle.
Just until he finished his quest to restore the realm of fey.
And then… Then he would purge himself of the darkness and cast it aside.
Mckenna's people had found three artifacts among their possessions, and given them to Lugh for restoring the Great Veil. These, along with the axe, Lugh saw safely into the keeping of the dragon, Jonathan. Mckenna had volunteered to teleport Lugh to deliver his treasures and then to return him to Dublin. The wood elves' king hadn't mentioned anything about the Fade, which Lugh appreciated. Especially now that he no longer showed the advanced signs of the wasting.
Just before he'd taken his leave, Lugh finally had a private word with Kev. The wood elf confided that the human Lugh had taken as a companion was known to have had dealings with Changelings and vampires. Something that mattered less to Lugh now than it would have the day before.
Especially now, when the darkness slithering in his mind preoccupied him with its own obsession. His tongue ran over his teeth. The compulsion to bite twisted over and over, and would continue to torment him until he slaked this need.
This time, the vampires of the Satin Club neither fled from him nor harassed him. They accepted him with the same sideways watchfulness as they would have any other predator. The club was no less crowded this evening than it had been the day before. The vampire mistress who owned the club held court from the corner barstool, but she dismissed her attendants when she spied Lugh approaching.
"Look who's come to darken my doorstep," Selena purred. She raised her right arm to display a filigree bracelet of gold. Within her other hand, she showed him the small enchantment he'd given her and how it pointed to the bracelet. "And look what I’ve found." The vampire slid her arms around his neck, pressing her body, sheathed in a silk dress of a shimmering blue, against his length. "Now you owe me another night." She could never replace a Sidhe in his arms or in his bed, but tonight, this woman was exactly what he needed. Under no circumstances would he desire to subject a Sidhe to what he meant to share with this wom
an.
Rather than answer her, Lugh crushed his lips against hers. His tongue invaded her mouth. The vampire yielded to his demands, even when he lifted her from the floor and trapped her between his body and the wall. She tasted not of blood, a sensation for which he'd anticipated, but of champagne.
Lugh wanted blood.
With a handful of her hair tangled about his fingers, he arched her neck. Lugh sank his teeth not into the vulnerable flesh of her throat, but on the length of muscle in that graceful slope of her shoulder. His teeth weren't meant for a clean puncture like a vampire's, and his unrestricted bite could rip open a vessel beyond repair, killing her. He knew this from experience. That he cared enough not to tear open her throat proved his mastery over the darkness within.
The sharp taste of blood filled his senses, awakening more dark desires. Her squeal of shock and pleasure ignited his need. Each slithering glide of her body stole his reason. Like a cat that bites its mate, his teeth on her aroused him. Lugh drew back just enough to growl against her ear. "Upstairs."
She laughed, low and seductive, for no amount of biting would deter a vampire. "It will be a pleasure."
And he knew that it would indeed.
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Eyes of Magic
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~End of the World!~
“The world as we have known it ends this day.” The warriors, men and women both, needed to hear him speak. The grit and determination in his voice carried as much emphasis as the words themselves. Many cut uncertain glances his way, the deep-seated beliefs ground into them over the centuries nearly as much a part of them as their skin and their magic. Lugh patrolled the top of the castle wall, watching the courtyard below. The elaborate breastplate strapped to him served more as a status symbol than actual protection, even with the magicraft worked into the polished leather. He was the Champion of the Sidhe, even for the Sidhe who would sooner slit his throat than call him their champion. It mattered not. He protected his people regardless, most especially from themselves.
The Sidhe and lesser fey warriors of the Seelie Court spaced themselves at intervals of less than a full arm span. Wood elves, dwarves, selkies, and even a stout-hearted fairy held the line for this final watch, bows, spears, and magic at the ready. Although the technology-embracing world beyond the Mounds long ago abandoned the grace of the bow for guns and other modern weaponry, the long-lived fey of the Mounds shunned such graceless devices.
“Keep a sharp eye on the barrier.” The canopy of magic reached just beyond the courtyard wall, preventing Glamour or teleportation within the castle grounds. If any fey dreamed to raid the stronghold of the Seelie Court this day, they faced more than simply this entire cadre of fey warriors. They would have to best the Champion of the Sidhe, a near impossible task. For greater than a thousand years, only a handful had ever crossed purposes with Lugh and bested him. A few of these skilled warriors manned the line with Lugh now. Others, such as the greatest of the Unseelie guard, had yet to breach the courtyard threshold. His heart harbored no doubts that at least one would challenge Lugh’s mettle and resolve.
Lugh cast a proprietary glance across the outer wall to the fey town in the protective shadow of the castle. The hills rolled into the distance. The internal measure of the Mounds roughly equated to Ireland in width and length. Lugh knew every tree, every step of every path. Twice he held the Seelie crown. Since he was a much younger Sidhe, Lugh held the mantle of Champion. He earned it. The very sunlight in the sky was his gift to the Mounds. The Celts once worshipped Lugh as the god of the sun, for in that lay the aspect of Lugh’s unique magic. All the life that grew and prospered in the Mounds did so by the very power of his love for this place and these fey. He would defend it, and them, until his final breath.
With a great explosion of shattering wood, a boulder crashed though the courtyard gate. No such boulder had been transported though the city beyond the castle. This one had been ripped from the ground and flung with a magic only one Sidhe possessed.
“Jhaer!” Lugh growled, “Bring me your rage, Elite.” With his spear, Lugh pole-vaulted the low parapet and dropped the twenty feet into the courtyard. Using the grace of the fey, he hit and rolled, then came back up to his feet in a charge for the Unseelie intruder.
A volley of arrows whistled over Lugh’s head. A shielding wall of rock flew up before Jhaer, shattering the arrows like twigs. Nothing so mundane could deter the dark Sidhe when the rage claimed him. Lugh dueled with Jhaer hundreds of time over thousands of years. Every time the Seelie and Unseelie crossed swords, Jhaer led the charge. As did Lugh.
This would be the last time, though. Last time as Seelie verse Unseelie, at the very least. After this day, that division would end. The unified Court would rule the Mounds.
“Lugh! Have you been staring at your own magic so long you've blinded yourself?” Jhaer snarled. The rock shield dissipated into a cloud of dust and crumbled away as though cast aside with the contempt poisoning the Unseelie. He would rend Lugh just as viciously if he had blood instead of earth power. A tremble rippled through the ground and Lugh’s nimble feet expected to evade a grasping fist of earth clutching at his ankles.
Those familiar tactics failed to manifest. Instead the ground gave up a guttural rumbling. The very earth before the castle heaved upward in a sheer rock wall that shot skyward and blocked the fey of Lugh’s regiment.
It mattered not. The Champion could fend off the Elite long enough for the Unseelie king and queen to submit their magics to the greater Seelie, or rather the unified, Court.
Jhaer snapped at him, conviction and venom cutting in equal measure. “This must stop! Before it’s too late!”
Lugh raised his hands and with them he brought up a shield of fire in front of Jhaer. “Halt, Elite! You shall not violate the Seelie Court. Not this day of all days!” Lugh charged toward the fire between them, intent on getting his body and his spear between the Elite and the castle. “Stand down! I shall not permit your passage!”
In the Mounds, secrecy was near to impossible. Hardly a fey in the Mounds didn’t know what was to occur. Many he’d expected to protest or to charge the gates had yet to reveal themselves. At this late hour the ceremony must be nearing completion. No one, not even the very head of the Unseelie Elite, could not stop it now. Nor would Lugh allow Jhaer to mar the day with his rampage.
“One Court, Sidhe! We can be brothers. This feud can end! It should end!” Even as he said this, he prepared to fight.
"Light and dark can not merge. One will always consume the other. You know this! Yet the arrogant Seelie’s hunger for power would rather destroy everything than have balance!" Jhaer sank into the ground that enveloped and then closed over him like quicksand.
Lugh cursed the slippery magic that allowed his opponent to evade him. He felt through the soft soles of his boots the slight tremor as the Sidhe traveled beneath him. Lugh rushed to follow. As Jhaer reemerged from the ground, a great tremor rocked the courtyard. A crack climbed the outer wall like a growing vine, reaching ever higher.
“Trying to bring down the entire castle?” he snapped at Jhaer. “Danu is in there!”
The Unseelie stumbled backwards before catching himself; his wide eyes followed the crack in the wall. “Would I knock myself off balance? Open your eyes, Lugh! Something is wrong!"
Lugh rode out the next quake, but just barely. His feet remained under him only by his fey grace. Thunder rolled across the sky and then the sky itself flickered. Or rather the magic that gave the ceiling o
f the Mounds the appearance of a sky. Fractures like a spider’s web shattered the illusion. As long as Lugh lived, the Mounds would have sunlight, so even without the sky and sun illusions, the world was not cast into darkness. But without the magic the great bowl of rock overhead became visible for the first time in Lugh’s thousands of years of recollection.
“All-Mother…” he breathed. The dread stabbed him like a knife to the heart. Danu was in peril. And so were the Mounds.
Jhaer raised his hands, fingers curled as if clutching something invisible. The cacophony from the crumbling rock slowed to the rumbling roll of distant thunder. The ceiling caved in elsewhere, the echoes reached them across the expanse of the Mounds, but Jhaer’s mastery held the rock above them together. The Unseelie trembled with great personal strain. Sweat beaded along his skin and made his black hair glisten.
“Help Danu! NOW! I can't… hold it up… much longer!"
Cursing the magic that prevented him from teleporting, Lugh found his feet before Jhaer finished speaking. The rock wall Jhaer erected before the castle broke into chunks that slumped without Jhaer’s will binding its shape. Lugh bound over the debris and raced into the castle, even as all others scrambled to flee it. He dodged great chunks of falling plaster as it crashed from the buttresses arching high above the rotunda and grand staircase. The rubble shattered on the marble stairs. Plaster dust floated on the air currents like mist as Lugh cut through. Screams echoed from everywhere. Lesser fey scrambled to and fro, but Lugh paid no heed to any of them. He saw no Sidhe. Not one.
Heart pounding, he used the handrail to catapult himself as he raced up the long, curving stairwell to the second level. No one need tell him where to find the All-Mother. All fey connected to the Mounds possessed a sense of her. No guards manned the watch outside the throne chamber. No bodies strewn about to explain their absence. No blood. No dropped weapons. Fear for friends and lovers kindled behind the greater dread that brought him to a sliding stop on the dust-covered floor just inside the chamber.
Protector of the Light (Champion of the Sidhe urban fantasy series) Page 5
