Spear Song

by Tricia O'Malley

  It was madness.

  “Sure and it was a lovely song and all – no harm meant, Gwen,” Seamus said, his cheeks flushing a bit. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to not be testing whether I can resist it or not. Or, you know, that little bit after, where she tears men limb from limb once she’s finished with them.”

  Gwen laughed this time, a full-bodied laugh that shook her very core, and in moments she was doubled over, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “I think that’s probably a wise idea, Seamus,” Loch said dryly, keeping one eye on Gwen as tears continued to run down her cheeks.

  “Since this one can’t talk, tell me what you know about her. It’s only fair,” Bianca demanded, sticking a finger in Loch’s face. Gwen admired the fact that Bianca was clearly not intimidated by Lochlain’s bulk.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.” Loch sighed and stood, surprising Gwen by taking his bowl to the sink and rinsing it out, drying it as he spoke. It was nice to see that he didn’t deem doing the dishes as woman’s work, Gwen thought, finally able to stop laughing as she waited for him to speak. “The bracelets are what’s throwing me.”

  “What about them specifically? I saw you were able to read the writing. Seamus, can you?” Bianca asked. Gwen held her breath as Seamus took her wrist to examine the ice bracelet.

  “No, I can’t,” Seamus said after squinting carefully down at the symbols wrought on the hammered gold.

  “Why can you, then?” Bianca swiveled back to Loch.

  “He’s royalty. Which means… she likely is as well,” Seamus said, his fingers drumming on the table as he thought it through. “There is a language that only the royal fae learn, so if Loch can read it, that means he’s royalty. What’s interesting to me is that the royal family are very particular about who knows this language, as well as how it is used. For Gwen to have bracelets with the language transcribed upon them would lead me to conclude that she is royalty as well.”

  For the second time in a matter of minutes, Gwen was rendered speechless as she once again tried to process a concept that was unfathomable to her. First a siren and now royalty?

  “Are you saying I’m a fairy princess?” Gwen said, the words ending on a higher pitch as she questioned everything she knew about herself.

  “I’m thinking so, though it would be nice if this one could be confirming it,” Seamus said, and they all looked to Loch.

  His cursory nod had Bianca squealing in delight and rushing around the room to put her arms around Gwen.

  “Royalty! Och, this is amazing!”

  “Should I call you ‘your highness’ then?” Seamus asked, dipping into a bow and making Gwen giggle once more.

  “Enough,” Loch said, his voice a low growl, and the frustration behind it caused the laughter around the table to die.

  “Now, Loch. It’s best to enjoy these moments. At any second, we could be back in battle,” Bianca said. “Isn’t that the point of all this? To appreciate the lighter moments in life to help us through the darker ones?”

  “And while you giggle over fairy princesses, I worry that the target on Gwen’s back has now quadrupled. The Domnua know what those bracelets mean. If they can kill royalty? Well, that would be hugely motivating to them. They’ll feel invincible and push even harder. Half of what’s keeping them at bay is their fear. If they have a massive win, like killing Danula royalty? Well, I shudder to think about what a mess this battle will become.”

  “Way to be a buzzkill,” Bianca muttered.

  Gwen smiled at her. Though her anxiety had flared at the thought of the Domnua, it still didn’t outweigh the excitement that coursed through her.

  A fairy princess, and a siren, at that. It would take a while for all this to soak in, but learning this information made her sit a little straighter in her seat. A princess wouldn’t slump.

  “I have a question,” Gwen asked, careful to only look at Loch briefly before turning to Bianca, who, she had learned yesterday, gave tours at Dublin University detailing Celtic myths and history. “If a siren kills a man after luring them – how did I come about, exactly? Or did my father die in my mother’s arms after he impregnated her?”

  “That is an excellent question. Because it seems to me that sirens were known for killing men – perhaps mating with them first – but rarely if ever did a man live after a siren had her way with him. Ultimately, it is believed that nothing good comes from answering a siren’s call,” Bianca mused.

  Gwen flashed back to the night before, when she’d sung and not known what she’d done. Even though it hadn’t been purposeful, she’d still instinctively challenged Loch when he’d burst through the door.

  Which to her mind meant two things: Loch wasn’t actually attracted to her – as she’d correctly assumed from the beginning – and he was capable of resisting a siren’s call.

  “Does the siren’s song have to be sung with the intention to lure a victim?” Gwen asked, carefully looking away from Loch. “I mean, is it any time I sing that I can potentially harm people, or do I need to intend to enchant them?”

  “Ahhh, interesting thought. If a siren sings for the joy of singing, does she lure a man?” Bianca asked, steepling her fingers and leaning forward on the table with her brow creased as she thought.

  “I’d say no. Though it was a mighty powerful song you were singing last night, I was able to resist rushing to you,” Seamus said, his eyes on Loch. “But it was still powerful. I’d hate to think what would happen if you did sing with intention. And Loch was drawn to you, but then resisted. So I’m thinking you didn’t pack your full wallop, if you will.”

  “Half-siren,” Loch said, almost absently, as he sipped his tea. “A half-blood. It will be interesting to see where her powers lie. I’ve not heard tell of this in the books, but I have a direction to research now. I’ll be back.” With that, he shoved off, leaving them staring after him.

  “I can’t decide if I was just insulted or not,” Gwen said, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

  “Don’t mind him. He’s got a fancy for you and doesn’t like it, is all,” Bianca soothed.

  Gwen laughed. “No chance. The man saw me naked and heard my supposed ‘siren song’ and he still didn’t jump me. I think it’s safe to say he’s not interested.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  It rankled just a bit, and perhaps more than she wanted to admit, Gwen thought as she stared out the window of the military-style SUV Loch had piled them into shortly after breakfast. Not that she wanted a relationship with a man like Loch, she reminded herself, but she’d be a liar if she said her mind didn’t wander that way. The man was too handsome for his own good, though his attitude could use work. He’d returned after he’d stormed off at breakfast and, without another word about her being a princess or a siren, they’d taken off driving across land that was all but empty. She wondered where they were, but decided silence was her best choice at the moment.

  “Did you find anything in your research, O wise one?” Bianca asked Loch from the back seat where she and Seamus sat. Gwen bit her lips to keep from smiling, instead keeping her gaze focused on the landscape outside the window.

  “I’m waiting to hear back from a few contacts. But, from what I gathered, half-sirens, especially of royal fae blood, are highly unusual. I’m not sure what that means; however, because Gwen was gifted the bracelets, I can at least make the assumption that she was welcomed by the fae side of her family. Had she been shunned, she would never have received such a gift.”

  Gwen glanced down at her magickal bracelets, seeing them in a new light. They were a connection to her family – a sign of acceptance and love. Even though she hadn’t ever felt uncared for or unloved, it was still nice to know that she had additional support from her unknown family.

  “And the siren side of my family?” Gwen asked, glancing at Loch. Today he had donned his leathers again, making Gwen’s mouth all but water when she looked at him. Too bad he wasn’t for her – if a girl
was going to test the waters, he’d be the one to do it with. Although, to be fair, she wasn’t sure that dipping her toe in that pond would be the smartest move for her. Siren or not, she was inexperienced, and a man like Loch would probably not tolerate her fumbling attempts. He seemed more like the type who liked to take charge, or meet his woman head-on while she carried a whip or something. Rolling her eyes at her active imagination, Gwen shook her head and focused back on the landscape rolling past the window.

  “It’s an unknown, this siren side. The fae don’t necessarily clash with sirens, but they also don’t particularly associate with them either. Apparently both groups, by tacit agreement, decided to give each other a wide berth. I think sirens have considerable strength and magick, yet I’m at a loss to tell you how their society is organized or what their typical mating rituals are and so on. It’s fascinating to me that one of our royals took up with one – even I would know better than to do so.”

  And there it was, Gwen thought, feeling inexplicably miffed at his words. Granted, she would probably advise anyone to stay away from a siren as well. But now these were her people and she was half-siren, so it bothered her.

  “Right, right. Wouldn’t want to be caught slumming with us lowlifes,” Gwen said dryly, taking a sip from the water flask she carried in her lap to wet the lump in her throat.

  “Your race is an unknown. Sure, myths and legends abound, but in all reality you’re untested magick. It’s best not to rock the boat, to keep separate – which allows both societies to live in peace,” Loch said carefully.

  “Live and let live?” Bianca asked.

  “Precisely. It’s neither good nor bad; it just is.”

  “So truly, the unknown here is my mother. The siren herself,” Gwen said carefully, testing the words out. Her mother. That had been something she’d just resigned herself to not knowing much about. And once she had come to that decision, she’d made her peace with it.

  “Certainly. There must be a reason she gave you up – perhaps you couldn’t live in the water as they do, being a half-blood,” Loch mused.

  Gwen tried to not let the term ‘half-blood’ bother her. It just sounded a bit derogatory, was all.

  “I mean, would they kill their young? Or young that weren’t pure? Wait a minute – aren’t all sirens women? So how do they reproduce? And they would have to keep some of their young, right?” Bianca mused.

  Gwen turned around to raise an eyebrow at her.

  “That’s actually a very interesting point. How do sirens carry on their race? And if there are no men, how are they reproducing?” Gwen thought about it, then thought about a society of male sirens, which made her giggle. “Can you imagine male sirens? They’d be singing to the women on the shore and the women would be like, ‘nah, we’re good.’”

  “But we have pizza and video games,” Bianca quipped, and she and Gwen burst into laughter.

  “And hairy chests,” Seamus added, cracking them up even more.

  “Though I’d probably get sucked in by pizza and video games, I’m not going to lie,” Gwen admitted, and Seamus immediately began peppering her with questions about her favorite video games. An hour passed, and she soon realized they were drawing closer to the coast. Though she’d be hard pressed to explain how she knew, she could feel it in her bones – they were near water. Perhaps it had come as her birthright.

  “Where are we?” Gwen asked, turning to look at Loch.

  “Along the west coast. I’ve heard tell of sirens along these waters, so I figured we might as well head this way. Unless you have a better idea or a clue?”

  “Just the clue that came with the bracelets.”

  Bianca tapped Gwen’s shoulder and said in a loud whisper, “That would have been a helpful bit of knowledge to have.”

  “Right, right. Sorry about that.” Gwen flushed, and dug the paper from a pocket in her purse. “Fire and Ice, Song by Song, Day by Night, One follows along.”

  “Ohhh, beautiful,” Bianca breathed.

  “I think we can surmise ‘song by song’ is a siren-related thing,” Seamus said.

  “As is probably the ‘one follows along.’ Follow the siren’s song,” Bianca mused.

  Gwen held up her wrists so that the cuffs showed.

  “Fire and ice?”

  “No. Past the Aran Islands I’ve heard tell of a spot on an island which both spits molten lava and boasts a waterfall of ice. Nobody knows quite where it is located,” Loch said.

  “But you do?”

  “Aye, I’m thinking it’s far past the Aran Islands.”

  “Do you think it’s a metaphor for the two races? Fire for fae and ice for the sirens? Merged together as one?” Gwen asked, and the car went silent.

  “That’s… not a bad thought. I think we need to get ourselves a boat,” Loch said.

  “Can’t we just take the ferry to the islands?” Bianca asked.

  “And risk killing Domnua in front of tourists? You have to know they are going to try for us whenever we’re vulnerable,” Loch pointed out, pulling out his cell phone to punch in a number one-handed. He spoke in a language Gwen didn’t recognize, and was off the phone in a matter of moments.

  “All good. Ladies, I hope you have your sea legs. It’s going to be a rough passage.”

  Loch wasn’t lying, Gwen thought as they rolled up to a small bay tucked behind some foreboding hills a while later. Though she’d been dying to use her phone to look up more information on the sirens, Bianca had forbidden her to do so. Something about the bad fae being able to track electronics easily. It annoyed her, but she accepted it. The last thing Gwen wanted to do was invite more trouble on this quest.

  “That’s your boat, I’m assuming?” Bianca asked, pointing to where a yacht was moored to a small dock, the waves careening into the shore and crashing against its shiny red hull.

  “Yes,” Loch answered, pulling the car to a stop.

  “Nice. You know how to drive this thing?” Gwen asked as they all got out and began to unpack the SUV.

  “Yes,” Loch said again, this time with a huge sigh.

  “Oooookay,” Gwen all but snarled at him, but then forced her temper down. She was a happy person – anger never got her anywhere, nor would it do so now. Channeling her inner zen, she helped bring bags and packs from the SUV over to the dock, though nobody set foot on the boat yet. In moments, her anger had dissipated and she was back to her happy mood.

  So happy, in fact, that she forgot herself and began to sing gently under her breath, her face lifted to the breeze tearing along the rocky shoreline, enjoying the light mist in the air. It wasn’t a perfect spring day, but Gwen so loved the sea in all of its moods.

  “Gwen! No!”

  Gwen snapped back to attention, whirling in time to see a wave of Domnua flood over the hills, this time on horses, crossbows at the ready and arrows already launching through the air. She had but a moment to draw a deep breath before she was plucked from the ground and cradled in Loch’s arms, his large shoulders protecting her as he dodged arrow after arrow, pirouetting as neatly as a ballet dancer and dodging like a football player. In seconds, she’d been deposited in a berth belowdecks with nothing more than a curt order to stay put.

  “Like hell I will,” Gwen said, staring at the door as faint shouts reached her from outside. Standing, she grabbed the door and tugged. Once, twice, and then a third time. Realizing she was locked in, Gwen swore loudly and drew her bracelets back to throw ice at the lock, not caring what kind of damage she might do to the boat – and screamed in frustration when the ice met an impenetrable barrier of magick and shattered to pieces at her feet.

  Furious, Gwen flopped on the bed and waited. She prayed her careless actions wouldn’t cost anyone’s life.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I’m sorry,” Gwen said, jumping up from the bed as soon as the door opened. Loch stood there, his huge frame filling the narrow door, his chest still heaving with exhaustion from the fight. “Is everyone safe?”
>
  “Aye, we’re safe,” Loch said, his eyes still on hers before he turned and walked away. “No thanks to you.”

  Shame filled Gwen. He was right, though he didn’t have to be so nasty about it. But she hadn’t been the one who had to fight the battle. Trudging after him down the narrow hallway, she climbed the ladder to find Seamus and Bianca loading the supplies that had survived onto the boat.

  “I’m sorry,” Gwen said, rushing over to take a box from Bianca, nervous her new friend would be angry with her.

  “For what? I’m just glad you were safe. One less thing to worry about,” Bianca said, shooting Gwen an easy smile as she took Seamus’s hand and hopped on the boat.

  “For singing. I wasn’t thinking. I was just in a good mood and I started singing sort of under my breath like I usually do, and… well, they appeared,” Gwen said, knowing her face had to be flaming red in embarrassment.

  “You need to think more,” Loch said, lifting several of the boxes in one arm and swinging down below to store them.

  “I…” Gwen stopped herself from shouting after him, guilt still making her stomach turn.

  “Don’t listen to him. He’s just a big grump. The Domnua can and will come at any moment. Whether you sing or not. They’re hunting us, and we’re well aware of what we have ourselves involved in,” Seamus said, throwing an arm over Gwen’s shoulder to give her a loose squeeze. “It’s not on you that they attacked us. It’s on the Domnua. Remember that.”

  “It really isn’t,” Bianca added. “Don’t let Loch bully you. He’s just doing that because he was scared he wouldn’t get to you in time. You know how men get when they want to protect their women,” she said, then laughed in delight at the look on Loch’s face as he heard her words.

  “I’m not his woman,” Gwen protested.

  “She’s not my woman,” Loch agreed, shooting Gwen a glare. “I’m simply pointing out the fact that she should know better than to sing – especially if it is one of the things that can quite literally draw evil to us. You’d think she’d pay more attention.”