Earth's Hope

by Ann Gimpel

  “Didn’t go well, huh?” She raked her tangled hair back over her shoulders and chalked up a mental reminder to braid it before the next practice session.

  “Ye might say that.”

  Aislinn stopped dead. Since she was still holding onto Fionn, he ground to a halt too. She walked in front of him and tipped her chin to look him in the eyes. “I am not dredging this out of you piecemeal. Tell me what happened.”

  A corner of his mouth twisted downward. “The good news is we always won.”

  “And the bad?”

  “Ye might guess. They did what they wanted. So did we, and we tried not to fall over one another’s campaigns.”

  She pressed her chapped lips together, not liking how they rubbed raw spot over raw spot. “I don’t like the sound of that. For one thing, they’re immortal just like you. This time, there’ll be humans involved—and bond animals—all of whom can die.” She clacked her teeth together, thinking. “No wonder Odin’s not in any rush to join us. He probably has just as many qualms as you about merging efforts.”

  Fionn’s gaze skittered away from hers. “’Tis one of the reasons I thought mayhap ye might like—”

  “—to stay here,” she finished his sentence. “Not on your life, buddy.”

  He closed the short distance between them and folded her into his arms. She tucked her head into the crook between his neck and shoulder and listened to the strong, steady beat of his heart. “We’ll get through this,” she mumbled, her words mostly lost against his body.

  “I hope so.” He drew back enough to look at her. “We doona have a choice. If we sit back, they’ll continue to attack from different quarters and try to wear us out. We’ll expend our energy in defending ourselves and never make aught in the way of progress.”

  She nodded. It was much the same way she’d felt during the time she’d fought for the Lemurians, like she was treading water and getting tired. She’d been afraid she’d do something stupid—once she wearied enough—and throw her life away because she didn’t have the heart to go on fighting.

  Fionn stroked her hair, catching his fingers in tangles that gave way when he pushed magic into them. “Sometimes thinking isna your friend.”

  “No kidding. The way I’ve gotten through the hard parts is by just powering forward. If I thought too much or too deeply, I’d probably never have left my cave.”

  “Aye, ye’ve told me that afore. If ye’d stayed put, ye’d never have found Rune. Or met me.” He smiled crookedly.

  “It’s worse than that.” She swallowed hard to buy herself the courage to go on. “My temper annoys you, but without anger, I’d have folded long ago. Before you and Rune, it was the only thing that kept me going. I’d picture Perrikus and D’Chel murdering my father at that Inca shrine in the Bolivian Andes. If that didn’t work, I could always cull up an image of the Lemurian dragging my mother to her death. Between the two of them, I’d find the wherewithal to soldier forward. Oh yeah, I forgot the Lemurians turning my house into an earthquake zone and making it uninhabitable.” Her eyes burned, but she pushed the tears aside.

  “Ye never told me that part.” Fionn’s voice was gentle, and he kept stroking her hair.

  “Right after they took Mom, I was standing in the front doorway so filled with despair I almost couldn’t breathe, and there was this huge, cracking noise. I bolted forward and turned to watch the house I’d grown up in crack in multiple places and settle into a ruin. About the only part left was the underground bomb shelter.”

  “Yet ye worked for them, even after they robbed you of everything.”

  She took a deep, snuffly breath. “At that point I didn’t realize the Lemurians were in league with the dark, so I only blamed them for Mom and the house. But it wouldn’t have made a difference. They dogged me after they killed Mom, and I said no over and over again until they made it abundantly clear one more no would land me right where they’d chucked Mom.”

  “Ye wanted to live.”

  “I guess I did.” She shut her eyes for a long moment before opening them. “I’m glad our paths crossed. I don’t know what I’d do without you and Rune.”

  His crooked smile got a little wider. “We both built a lot of walls, lass. Taking them down, admitting we need one another, isna easy.”

  “It would have helped if Mother had told me about you and Dewi.”

  “Would it?” He quirked a brow.

  The tightness in her chest eased, and she found a smile to send back his way. “Not really. What normal kid finishing high school in Utah would believe her mother was descended from Irish kings and had both a dragon and a Celtic god at her disposal?”

  “How would your father have felt about it?” Curiosity lined Fionn’s question.

  “He was a very open-minded man, and a scientist at heart. Remember, he spent his life studying the Harmonic Convergence and the surges associated with it. Somehow, I believe he would have taken it in stride. When we saw them in the halls of the dead and Gwydion was there, it was apparent Mom had told Dad about both of you.”

  “And he was quick to clasp hands with me.” Fionn nodded, remembering. “Mayhap ye’re right, leannán.” He kissed her forehead. “How about a spot of food? Dewi’s nowhere near done with what she wants to accomplish today.”

  “In that case,” Aislinn brushed her lips over his, “we’d better get moving.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nightfall had arrived hours before, but Bran wasn’t back yet. Fionn considered going after him more than once, but Dewi made it clear he was needed at their practice session. They’d covered basic evasive maneuvers, and working as a team to launch offensives. Fionn hadn’t had a chance to check in with Gwydion or Arawn about how things went for their group, but planned to remedy that over supper.

  It was both dark and cold when Dewi decided they’d done all they could for the day. The humans and Celts moved inside, and the dragons gathered in the courtyard outside the great room. Fionn held the kitchen door open for Aislinn and was pleased to see Gwydion, Arawn, and about twenty humans gathered around his large kitchen table. Pots bubbled on the stove, the heat powered by magic.

  He ducked into the pantry and pulled out a bottle of mead, handing it to Aislinn, who drank deep. She gave the bottle back and swiped a grimy hand down her face, leaving dark streaks.

  “Gods, but I’m tired,” she muttered, strode to the sink, and flipped on the taps to wash her hands. Once they were clean, she bent forward and threw water on her face.

  It looked like a good idea, so Fionn did the same once she was done.

  “What would ye like to eat, lass?” Fionn pulled plates from a cupboard and rustled up forks. There weren’t many left, so someone would have to wash dishes soon.

  “I’ll get my own.” She joined him at the stove, took her plate, and piled it high with something from each pot. Fionn identified a grain and vegetable casserole, potatoes, and some variant of fowl, likely duck.

  “Did someone find the time to hunt?” he asked the group.

  Rune detached himself from a group of bond animals lounging in the far corner of the kitchen. “The meat is courtesy of our efforts.”

  Fionn bowed low, sweeping an arm in front of him before straightening. “I thank you.”

  “There are enough of us,” Rune informed him, “that hunting is easy, and we killed far more than we needed on purpose.”

  Aislinn set her plate in front of an empty seat and made her way to Rune. She dropped into a crouch and wrapped her arms around his thick neck. The wolf angled his head and licked the side of her face. As Fionn watched them, he wondered where Bella had gotten herself off to this time. For one brief moment, he longed for a bondmate more like the wolf, but he squelched the thought before it could go anywhere. He and Bella had been together for hundreds of years. The bird was prickly and difficult, but she’d put her life on the line for him many times.

  As if she were attuned to his thoughts—and maybe she was—she flapped through the kitchen do
or and landed on his shoulder.

  “Get extra duck for me,” she squawked. “I like it better raw, but I’ll take what I can get.”

  Fionn turned back to the stove and added meat to his plate until the pressure of Bella’s talons eased. “Where have you been?” he asked the raven.

  “Spying.”

  Anger sent a shot of bile from his stomach to the back of his throat where it burned like a bitch. Fionn forced himself to walk to the table where he set his plate next to Aislinn’s. She and Rune were still on the other side of the room, their heads bent together. Bella jumped from his shoulder to the table and buried her beak in a pile of succulent duck. He grabbed a fork and speared food, chewing and swallowing mechanically. If he waited long enough, the bird would tell him what she’d found, but if he gave in to his temper and rebuked her for going off alone without telling anyone what she was up to, she’d never say a word.

  Aislinn settled beside him and placed a mead bottle on the table. He recalled leaving it on the counter next to the stove.

  “Thank you,” he murmured between bites and took a long draught. The liquor helped ease the fury that still burned in his gut. Conversation ebbed and flowed around him, but no one asked him anything, so he didn’t have to pay attention.

  They ate in silence, and he watched Aislinn sidelong. She shoveled food into her mouth like a starving woman; her appetite heartened him because she was far too thin. She’d dropped weight after losing their child and never gained it back. If he had his way, he’d swaddle her in layers of protection, see she had three decent meals every day, and keep her busy bearing his children. Realizing the absurdity of his fantasy, he snorted.

  “What?” she asked, glancing up from her nearly empty plate. Before he could answer, she narrowed her eyes. “You and Bella are mighty quiet.”

  The bird had finished eating and moved on to preening her feathers. At Aislinn’s observation, she lifted her head and focused her dark, avian eyes on Fionn. “It’s because he’d like to wring my neck.”

  “Really?” Aislinn stroked Bella’s wing feathers. “What’d you do this time?”

  “Everyone was busy, so I did a bit of aerial surveillance.” She fluffed her feathers, clearly proud of herself. “Ravens are common as goose grass here in Inishowen. No one paid me the slightest bit of attention.”

  “Are ye planning to tell us what ye found?” Fionn asked.

  “I figured you’d get around to asking me sooner or later,” the bird smirked.

  Fionn ground his teeth together in frustration. Bella loved the limelight; maybe that would be a way to loosen her beak. He clinked his fork against the mead bottle and conversation died. Heads swiveled in their direction.

  “While we were practicing,” Fionn announced, “Bella did some scouting. She wants to tell you about it.”

  The raven flapped her way to the top of an industrial-sized, stainless steel refrigerator. The appliance was useless without electricity, but handy for mouse-proof storage, so Fionn hadn’t bothered to move it outside. Bella folded her wings across her back and waited until everyone’s attention was trained on her.

  “Lemurians,” she said succinctly. “Lots of them.”

  “How many?” a human asked.

  The bird made a shrugging motion. “Numbers aren’t my strong suit, but enough to fill the bottom floor of a deserted castle not far from here and more were teleporting in as I watched.”

  “Did ye sense any of the dark gods?” Gwydion got to his feet, leaning heavily on his staff.

  “No, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t there,” Bella said.

  “Aught else?” Fionn asked.

  “Isn’t that enough?” Bella snapped her beak at him.

  Fionn clamped down on a rejoinder and focused on Gwydion. “Any word from Bran?”

  “Nay. If he isna back soon, mayhap one of us should track him down.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Arawn chimed in from where he sat at the end of the table.

  “Would ye mind telling the dragons what ye just told us?” Fionn angled his gaze at Bella.

  “Not at all.” The raven flew across the kitchen and out the door.

  Fionn scrubbed a hand down his face. “She is such a royal pain,” he muttered.

  “Hush.” Aislinn poked him. “She’ll hear you. She just likes to feel useful—like all of us.”

  “Maybe so, but—”

  Aislinn shook her head. “She loves you. Her world’s turned upside down right along with the rest of us, and she’s figuring out where she fits. Because she lacks human social skills, you interpret her efforts as abrasive.”

  Fionn grinned in spite of himself. “When did ye turn into a bird therapist?”

  “Since I discovered I held Hunter magic. Rune’s the same way. Hell, Fionn, all of us need to feel valued. It’s not unique to the bond animals.”

  “What do ye want to do about Bran?” Gwydion broke into Fionn’s and Aislinn’s conversation. “I’ve tried to reach him telepathically, and come up with aught.”

  Fionn rotated his shoulder blades, but his muscles still felt like bags of concrete. “I imagine our kinfolk are arguing—much like they always do—behind well-shielded warding. If it werena for the Lemurians, I’d leave things as they are, at least until morning.”

  Eve caught his eye from across the table. “We should set two hour watches.” Dark smudges rode beneath her blue eyes, and her hair hung in tangled, dark mats around her face.

  “Agreed.” Fionn nodded briskly. “Mayhap ’twill yield an opportunity to test our developing battle strategies.”

  Eve shut her eyes and her shoulders drooped for a moment before she straightened them. “Thanks, Celt,” she growled, and her eyes fluttered open.

  “Doona mention it, lassie.” He pushed to his feet, realizing he was weary too. Not just in body, but the continuing threat of attack dragged at his spirit. He much preferred open fighting, where he had at least some sense of where the enemy would strike next.

  Gwydion stood and walked to Fionn’s side. “Count off in fours,” he instructed the group. “Ones will take first watch, from now until one in the morning. Second watch from then until three.” He paused to take in a breath. “And so on until seven in the morning.”

  “Will we count too?” Rune asked.

  “Nay.” Gwydion smiled fondly at Aislinn’s wolf. “Ye’ll remain with your Hunter, bonded one.”

  “What about the dragons?” Corin asked.

  “I’ll speak with them and let them decide which group they wish to support,” Gwydion said. “Four dragons. Four groups. Should be simple enough.”

  Fionn drew a two and Aislinn a three, but Daniel traded with Fionn so he and Aislinn could remain together. She got up, stumbling from weariness and plodded out of the kitchen with Fionn and Rune close behind her.

  Gwydion caught Fionn while they were crossing the great room. “Hold for a moment. I would speak with you.”

  “All right.” Fionn turned to Aislinn. “Go on up to our room with Rune. I’ll meet you there soon.”

  Gwydion waited until woman and wolf had disappeared up the stairwell running along the far side of the enormous room. From there they’d go down a long hall to another set of stairs.

  “Ye’re worried,” Fionn said, eying his old friend.

  “No shit,” Gwydion grunted.

  “What do ye need me to do?”

  “I wish it were that easy.” Gwydion shook his head until blond strands of hair danced around his face. “This battle isna clean. I have no idea what will happen next. Hell, some days I wonder who’s on which side. Having Odin pop up willy nilly willna help, and it may well hurt us.”

  “We’ve never fought well allied with the Norse gods,” Fionn concurred.

  “I feel responsible for the humans, like we need to protect them to make up for throwing them to the wolves earlier.”

  “It wasna quite that bad,” Fionn murmured. “We dinna help them, but it wasna as if we wished them harm.”
>
  “Not the way they see it.”

  “Touché.” Fionn gripped Gwydion’s upper arm. “How about if ye spit out what’s really bothering you?”

  “In a hurry to get to the wench warming your bed?” Gwydion shot a meaningful glance at Fionn.

  “Ye might say so.”

  “All right. I probably shouldna even mention it, since there’s naught to be done, but what happened with the dragon younglings rankles.”

  “Aye, ’tis worrisome, yet we’ve done the best we can to corral the damage.”

  Gwydion raked a hand through his hair. “Not entirely. We could have one of us babysitting them, along with Royce and Vaughna.”

  “’Tisn’t as if there are many of us to spare, unless Bran convinces a few other Celts to join the fight.” Fionn loosened his hold on Gwydion. “That’s tomorrow’s problem. How about if we concentrate on getting through tonight without too many losses?”

  “Humph.” The master enchanter twirled his staff, which remained mercifully quiescent. When dark energy was near, it glowed red.

  Fionn started for the stairs. “If ye find Bella outside, send her to my rooms.”

  “I’ll suggest it.” Gwydion’s tone was dry. “Your bird isna any more compliant for me than she is for you.”

  Aislinn’s words rattled around Fionn’s mind. He stopped and turned back toward Gwydion. “If you tell her that, at least she won’t feel left out.”

  “Oh, for goddess’s-fucking sake. I canna command troops if I have to worry about people—or birds—getting their feelings trompled on,” Gwydion sputtered just before he yanked the front door open and disappeared through it.

  Fionn snickered as he plodded up the stairs. It was indeed a different world. The one he’d been born into had barely recognized emotions. People did what they had to because they had to. He pulled the door to his suite of rooms open and was greeted by clouds of steam. Aislinn must have drawn a bath. Good. He’d love to clean up too. Rune whined a greeting from where he curled in a corner and then tucked his nose under his tail again.

  Fionn latched the door behind him and added a jot of magic to seal out the world before stripping off his clothes and draping them over a chair. He made his way into the Italian marble bathroom with its red and green-veined cream-colored tiles and sunken tub. Aislinn floated in the water with her hair fanned out about her like exotic sea anemones. She smiled lazily and patted the water’s surface so ripples spread over it. “Come on in. It feels really good to be clean.”