Celtic Dragons

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Eamon watched him for a long time, clearly deep in thought. He wasn’t one to voice his mental processes though. Only his conclusions. “I should report you to Ronan.”

  “I’ll tell him myself,” Kean promised, leaning forward intently. “Eamon, you know that the clan is everything to me, just like it is to you. Trust me. Please.” It seemed he was having to make that request of a lot of people of late.

  “I do trust you,” Eamon said. “But everybody fucks up.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You’d better not,” Eamon said. “You need to be careful. More careful than you’re being.”

  “I will.”

  “Don’t forget that her life could be on the line if she does find out about us.”

  Kean shifted in his seat, not liking even the thought of that. On the few occasions, over the hundreds of years that dragons had existed, when a human had learned more than he or she was supposed to,on most of those occasions, the human had died, likely by the hand of some dragon who valued the clan’s secrecy more than they valued that human’s life.

  “I won’t let it come to that,” Kean vowed.

  Eamon nodded. “Don’t. And tell Ronan.”

  “As soon as he gets back,” Kean promised, standing up. “Thank you, Eamon.”

  Standing up, too, Eamon didn’t ease his stern expression. “Kean, I’m giving you a chance because you’re my brother. However,you should know, I will protect our clan at all costs.”

  It was a lot of words for the silent man, which only served to convince Kean that his friend was serious. Deadly serious. And he didn’t hold it against him, because if it had been the other way around, Kean might feel the same way. Nothing was more sacred than their privacy. It was the key to their way of life—one that had developed over centuries of careful training and shaping.

  “I understand,” Kean said.

  “Good.” Eamon nodded toward the door. “Damage control.”

  Knowing he was dismissed, Kean went to the door and walked out into the hallway, closing it behind him. Eamon, the most rational and levelheaded of them all, had not taken the new situation well. Kean could only imagine how hot-tempered Siobhan would react or spunky, explosive Moira. Ronan—he would be furious, and Eamon wasn’t going to be on his side. Not entirely.

  Kean had changed everything even by just giving Dhara a taste of the truth, and there was no going back now. None of them had the power to wipe human minds of memories. There was only one way to make a human forget that they knew, and he would never, ever let that happen to Dhara.

  All he could hope was that he hadn’t opened the door to a situation that would lead to him fighting against his own clan in defense of the woman who had already worked her way under his skin. If he had, then he had no idea how that would turn out. Or how he could choose between his family and Dhara.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dhara

  She paced Kean’s office, wondering what he and Eamon were talking about. Wondering why Eamon had looked so upset. Wondering if it was because he had overheard Kean telling her about himself. Except he hadn’t really told her anything, so Eamon could hardly be angry. Right?

  All she knew was that there was some paranormal aspect to Kean. Or, at least, that he thought there was. Did his friends know that he thought that? Did they believe him? Was it Eamon’s job to protect Kean, and now he was worried that Dhara would somehow use the information against them?

  She never would, of course. Even if it was true and not just a figment of Kean’s imagination, she would never breathe a word to anyone or endanger him in any way. She cared about him, in spite of herself. She just wished she knew more definitively if he was paranormal or delusional—and she wished that he would hurry up and finish with Eamon so that he could be with her again.

  Her nerves were in a knot, jangled and raw after weeks of stressors that she could never have predicted. They had been so caught up in what had happened between them last night and why that she hadn’t even had the opportunity to tell him what had taken place outside of her house, on the sidewalk. How she had ended up in prison, of all places.

  His office door opened, and Kean appeared, causing Dhara to heave a sigh of a relief.

  “Thank God,” she said, walking toward him. “I was going out of my mind in here.”

  His smile was tight, but he did move toward her as well, taking her in his arms again, briefly, before guiding her to the couch.

  “What was wrong with Eamon?” Dhara asked as they sat down. “Is he upset?”

  “Nevermind Eamon,” Kean said. “We’re working together again, and I need you to tell me exactly what landed you in prison tonight. Everything. Every detail. You went to the house, and what happened, Dhara?”

  She nodded, having had the same train of thought herself. “I went to the house, and I was standing there, holding onto the fence and trying to open myself up to whatever was inside.”

  “Dhara!” Kean dropped her hand, hitting his forehead with his palm. “Why would you do that? What’s inside is dangerous!”

  “I didn’t know what else to do,” she said defensively. “You weren’t around. I didn’t think you were ever going to be around. I was on my own, and the books that I had read said that getting rid of spirits sometimes was as simple as opening yourself up to them and asking what it is they want. Then if you give it to them, they leave.”

  Kean gave her a look. “Oh, Dhara. That is what happens in movies and books. Not in real life.”

  She frowned, not liking his tone, but given what had happened, unable to argue that it had been a good idea. “Well, regardless, I felt something.”

  “What?”

  “Anger,” she said. “Anger and aching and just …so much rage. I couldn’t tell if it was mine or not. I didn’t know why I was suddenly so angry. But there were people all around me, and I just—I just snapped. They were only trying to help. I must have looked like I was having a panic attack, and maybe I was. I don’t know. But it infuriated me and I shoved someone, I think. I can’t quite remember. It was all a blur—someone making me stay in the area, the police coming. They handcuffed me. And then I was in prison, and things started to clear up a little bit.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t me, Kean. I would never scream at people. Shove them. Hit them. I’ve never done that before in my life.”

  “I know,” he said, reassuring her gently, his hand on hers. “It’s the Jinn. You know it, and I know it, and that’s all that matters.”

  She sighed, leaning back against the couch. “The police definitely didn’t know it. I got lucky that nobody pressed charges, I guess.”

  “I’m sure they knew you were having some sort of …episode.”

  Kean was quiet for a minute, clearly thinking, and Dhara studied him, her eyes moving over his handsome face, taking in the strength of his features, the depth in his eyes, the fullness of his lips. She tried to imagine what sort of paranormal power or presence he might have. He was too solid, too muscular, too manly to be anything like a spirit or something equally intangible. She couldn’t imagine himas anything less than the solid bulk that he was.

  “You’re not a werewolf, are you?”

  Kean looked up at her in surprise, taking a second to come back from whatever thought he had been lost in. “What?”

  “A werewolf.”

  “Why would you ask me that?”

  Dhara bit her lip. “Do you blame me for being curious?”

  Sighing, Kean took her hands in his. “No. I don’t. But you don’t understand how dangerous it is that I’ve told you as much as I have. I cannot tell you anything else, Dhara. It’s not that I don’t want to. But I can’t. It’s bigger than you, than me, than us. It’s just …it’s big. But no. I’m not a werewolf.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “Yes,” Kean said, looking into her eyes. “What I think we really need to do though, sweetheart, is focus on your problems.”

  “I don’t want to,” she admitted. “I’d much rathe
r avoid them by thinking about yours.”

  He smiled slightly, shaking his head. “Not going to work. So let’s refocus. Have you noticed anything else strange since you went back to the house? Anything different about yourself?”

  “Yes …”

  She didn’t continue, and he pressed her fingers. “Okay …like what?”

  “I get glimpses of images,” she confessed, looking away from him. “Pictures in my head that I don’t understand.”

  He swore quietly under his breath. “Okay. That’s what I was afraid of. It’s common, with Jinn possession.”

  Her ability or impending ability to read minds seemed to bother him more than other possibilities, and Dhara could only imagine that was because she was afraid she would read his mind. Part of her was tempted to try, but to do so would be such a betrayal that they would never recover from it. Knowing that though, didn’t mean she wasn’t still tempted.

  She tried to distract herself from the possibility. “I still don’t understand how I could have a Jinn possession. It’s still connected to the house. And how did I get it in the first place?”

  “It’s in the house, yes,” Kean agreed. “But only because that was your residency. It will, I’m fairly certain, transfer back onto you. It’s already started. The anger. The images in your head. The behavior that’s so out of character for you.”

  “But I’m okay right now.”

  He nodded. “You are, and that’s not abnormal. It grows stronger, gradually. Right now, it has total control over your residence. Its power is strong there. But it does still need your host energy to survive. It will gravitate back toward you eventually. Right now, it’s only toying with you when you’re nearby.”

  “Then I just won’t go back there.”

  Kean looked at her sadly, as though he hated to be the one to have to give her pieces of bad news, one right after the other. “You won’t be able to help it eventually, Dhara. If you just walk away from the house and ignore it, eventually you’ll be pulled back there, no matter how far away you go. And once you’re at the house, it’ll take you over completely.”

  A shudder moved through her at the thought of having her body controlled by something else. She had always prided herself on being in full control—she was her own independent woman. And now she was saddled with a presence, a spirit, a something that wanted to possess her. “How do I get rid of it?”

  “That will be determined by how you got it,” Kean told her. “That’s what we have to figure out, and to do that, we’re going to have to go back into your past.”

  “But there’s nothing in my past. I had a very normal, boring childhood. I grew up in New Delhi. My parents were together and in love. I went to school; I decided I wanted to become a scientist; and I moved to California.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not that interesting, Kean. I know that when I say I grew up in India people may conjure up all of these wild imaginings about what my life was like, but New Delhi is a fairly modernized city. I speak fluent English. I always have. Granted, I also speak fluent Hindi, and I grew up saying ‘kshama karen’ more often than ‘excuse me.’ But I wasn’t charming snakes, tripping over cows, and running barefoot through streets, ending up in a mystic’s den of magic.”

  Kean was smiling when she was finished with her rant, and she frowned at him. “What? What’s so funny?”

  “You,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m trying to imagine you charming a snake.”

  She rolled her eyes, pushing his arm. “I mean it. I lived a very normal, simple, affluent, comfortable life. There is literally nothing—nothing—in my past that would have attached a Jinn spirit to me. Nothing.”

  “Dhara,” Kean said gently. “You’re accusing me of stereotyping, but it’s actually you who are stereotyping. Jinn spirits don’t have to lurk in the dark recesses of snake charmer homes or linger in the gardens of Hindu priests. They’re not even relegated just to India—that’s not how spirits work. The paranormal world and the natural world are intertwined more intricately than anyone could ever imagine. Jinn spirits like luxury hotels, suburban white-picket fences, and dark alleys filled with suspicious people. And they exist in every culture, though maybe under a different name. It just makes sense to call it a Jinn spirit and look specifically at that lore since you are, in fact, from India.”

  Dhara sat back, frowning as she thought about what he’d said. “They exist anywhere?”

  “All over the place. Sometimes under different names. Sometimes with some alteration. Spirits are affected by culture, too, of course.” He reached out and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, his fingertip skimming down her cheek as his hand fell. “The reason we’re starting with your past in India is that when a possession takes root, it often happens when the person is a child. Vulnerable. Young. Susceptible. Often, there’s some sort of event that triggers the possession, and then it lays dormant for years.”

  “Until the thirtieth birthday.”

  Kean nodded. “That’s right. It’s like a fun adult surprise, for when bills, work responsibilities, marriage, and kids aren’t enough.”

  She smiled slightly. “I’d prefer the marriage and kids.”

  Their eyes met and held for a moment, a strange look passing over his face that Dhara couldn’t interpret. But then he dropped his eyes, the moment gone so fast that she wasn’t sure it had ever been there.

  “We need to trace the root of your possession,” he told her. “And to do that, we need to follow the spirit’s lead. This is going to get messy, Dhara. Are you sure you’re ready?”

  “I don’t have a choice to be anything but ready, do I?”

  “No.”

  “Then …I’m ready.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kean

  He hadn’t slept all night, tossing and turning with the weight of his new reality. Ronan would be back the next day, and Kean was going to have confess what he had revealed to Dhara. He didn’t expect it to go well, however much brotherly love was between Ronan and him. There were consequences attached to violating the clan rules. There had to be. And Kean accepted that he would have to face them, whatever they were. But he didn’t relish the thought of being turned away from his family.

  Siobhan was already angry with him, sensing, no doubt, that there was more to his behavior from the night that they had gone flying than he had told her. Eamon was keeping his distance, though he was supportive. Ronan was gone, and Moira was the only one who, when he walked into the agency, greeted him with any kind of normalcy.

  “Yo,” she said, hip bumping him. “Why the long face?”

  Clearly, she hadn’t been brought into the loop. “Big case I’m working on. Where have you been?”

  “Same,” she said. “Murder case, about an hour away. Friend of a friend put me onto it, and I’m only in here for a few hours this morning to catch up on some other stuff. Then I’m back on the job.”

  “Saving the world, one person at a time,” he said, grabbing a cup of coffee from the main office area before heading back to his office. “Good job, kid.”

  “I hate it when you call me that.”

  “That’s why I call you that.”

  Kean walked back to his office and closed the door, not interested in anymore interaction with anyone that morning. It was a Sunday, so it was surprising that anyone was in at all. He hoped it was just Moira and him in the building, and that he would be able to sit down and work on Dhara’s case in peace.

  Before he got started, he considered calling Dhara. She had stayed at his mother’s house the night before, both he and Dhara agreeing that she was safest with someone else as long as that someone else definitely was not him. Though it had gone unspoken, they both understood that the connection between them was still so strong that if they spent the night in the same place, they would end up in bed together again. Or in the shower. Or on the couch. Or against a wall.

  “Kean!”

  It was his own voice reprimanding him, out loud.

 
“Get it together,” he mumbled to himself. “Like you’re not in enough trouble with this woman as it is. The last thing that you need to do is fantasize about her on the kitchen counter or the …”

  Again, he had to abruptly change his train of thought, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He would call her later, when he had something more to report. For now, he needed to collect all the information that he could about Jinn spirits.

  The problem was that there were so many different theories or incarnations of Jinn spirits that it was difficult to know where to begin. What had clued him in was the flowery smell that he kept picking up on in Dhara’s house and her connection to India, where there was a strong belief in Jinn spirits that could manifest either as hauntings or possessions. Strong belief usually meant that there had been numerous cases of such events, strengthening the possibility that they were experiencing one.

  He sat there for two hours, bookmarking relevant pages, taking notes, and beginning to write up a report of what he found to be most relevant. However,the problem that he’d had before when looking into Jinn spirits remained. Were they tangible beings who could appear of their own accord, interact with the world, and possess some form of rational thought? Or were they intangible mists that had to latch on to a host body in order to draw power out of it before they could act on their own? Both were supported by different sets of research, but the latter explanation best fit with the idea that these spirits remained dormant until a specific point in the possessed person’s life—like their thirtieth birthday.

  The research was helpful, and it gave Kean an idea of a place to start, but there was so much that contradicted itself that he was still going in blind, unsure of how the spirit possessing Dhara and her house would respond to him.

  What was going to be the most difficult thing to tell Dhara was the way in which Jinn spirits were banished. Everything he read suggested exorcism, though not in the religious, burning cross sense. They would need a mystic—he did just happen to know of one—who would be able to cleanse her, and it wasn’t going to be an easy process.