“Reece, if I sit, will the gators have a go?” I indicated to the bubbles on the surface of the water, a promise that there was more than just Reece's Meme down there.
“Naw, dere ain’t enough meat on you, sweet t’ang.” He winked, and sat down himself before tugging me down to sit with him.
My feet dangled over the edge of the dock, but I was so short in this body I was still nowhere near the water.
“'sides,” he continued, “even gators know better dan chewin' on da Keeper, ya know?”
Amelie sat her ass down beside me and flipped her long braids over her shoulder. The many glass beads made a pleasant clicking sound as they moved and I smiled.
Something about this wolf girl … she felt kind.
Which was odd, given Rafe had introduced her as his enforcer.
“So, spill it Veil Keeper.” She bumped me with her shoulder. “What did the old creeper say?”
“He wasn't creepy,” I defended the old seer, “and he didn't say much that I didn't already have a feeling about. He just helped me catch some bubbles.”
“Catch … bubbles?” Arlo asked, having come closer. He and Kill were now standing just behind us, looming over me like gargoyles … or knights.
“Yes.” I nodded, glancing up at them briefly before turning back to the swamp. “I have these … thoughts. Memories, I think. They're like soap bubbles, and every time I try to catch one, they slip just beyond my reach, or else they burst.”
“So, dis seer … he helped you catch a bubble?” Reece repeated and I nodded.
“My … her memories. The knowledge of the Veil, it was taken from her … me … whatever. But it was taken for safe-keeping by her knights.” My teeth worried at my lower lip while I clung to this one scrap of information that the seer had helped me regain. “They split it amongst themselves and then stored their individual pieces for safe keeping.”
“Do you know where?” Killian questioned, but I shrugged again, my heavy wings shifting with the movement.
Yes, no, maybe? I should know the answer to his question. The knights had left valuable pieces of information in the last Veil Keeper's memory that should have made it easy to recover all the shards.
“No …” I murmured.“Or, not exactly. The breadcrumb memories that were left … whatever happened to me after I took this body …” I trailed off with a sigh. Chasing this bubble hurt. It radiated pain and anguish, desperation and fear, and I just wasn't all too sure I really wanted to catch that one.
“Whatever happened … it's broken me. Her. Us. We're fractured in a way the Veil Keeper never should have been.” My fingers picked at a splinter on the dock beside me, and I flicked the little bits of wood into the water as I spoke. “But I know this … it all begins with the Spear.”
As I said this, I glanced back up to Arlo, and found his blazing green gaze locked on me, full of emotion I just couldn't read.
“It's gone,” he repeated himself, saying the same thing he'd said when I first asked where the Spear was. I hadn't known, then, what the significance was.
His words still rang true but …
“Gone doesn't always stay gone, brother,” Killian said quietly.
Amelie made a noise in her throat, flipping her braids to the other side and peering up at Arlo. “You want to tell me you're Cernunnos?” Her voice was flavored heavily with disbelief. “And that you lost the Spear of Lug? Oh, Rafe is going to lose his shit over this.”
“I didn’t lose it,” Arlo snapped, taking a step forward like maybe he wished he could snap Amelie’s neck and feed her to Meme. “It was either the father or the fucking sage.”
“The father or the sage …” I began carefully, closing my eyes and humming.
“The three aspects of the horned god,” Amelie explained carefully, reaching down to the dock and putting her hand over mine. Arlo growled again, but she ignored him. “Just like there are three aspects of the goddess—the maiden, the mother, and the crone. We don’t worship the horned god back home …” she began, glancing over one shoulder as though Arlo was the sole reason for that. “For obvious reasons,” she added, and I almost smiled. “But we do pray to the goddess.”
“I thought you crazies howled at the goddamn moon,” Arlo said, and when I followed Amelie’s gaze back over to him, I found him scowling.
“Yeah, dumb shit, as a physical manifestation of the goddess — the waxing, full, and waning moon, the three aspects.” Amelie turned her attention back to me and smiled. “So, figures it’d be the masculine aspect of nature that lost the spear, right? A woman would never make that mistake.”
“You little bitch,” Arlo grumbled, but as I kept staring at him, he simply pulled out a cigarette and started smoking again. I turned back to the water and watched the fireflies hovering lazily over the surface. As I stared at them, one drifted closer and closer, increasing in size until it was at least double or triple that of the others.
I held my palms up and it settled above them with a sigh, like it was coming to rest.
“Will-o-the-wisp,” Reece said from beside me and Arlo let out yet another snarl. The man was, quite frankly, bestial as all hell. I loved it. “She got an invitation from the sage.”
“Speak of the devil,” Arlo said with a tired … and an almost frightened? … sort of sigh.
“The sage?” I asked and Reece chuckled, reaching out and teasing the edge of the will-o-the-wisp’s light with his rough fingertips. I could still feel those fingertips on my head, encouraging me to take his cock, on my hips as he lifted me onto the counter … I shivered and glanced away.
There’d be time for sex later.
“The sage is Arlo’s Paw-Paw,” Reece explained, hauling himself to his feet with a groan and lifting his arms above his head with a yawn. “He lives in da bayou and he don’t just invite anybody to come pay him a visit, ‘specially not his own grandson.”
“I don’t have any want or need to visit the crazy old coot,” Arlo said, as if he didn’t much care either way if we went. I let Reece take my hand and haul me to my feet, managing to look over and catch just a brief glimpse of Arlo’s hands shaking as he smoked his cigarette. He tossed the still burning butt into the water and made me frown before turning and heading for the open door of the clubhouse. “Goddess’ tits, I need a fucking drink.”
“You shouldn’t litter,” I warned him, calling out from my tippy toes. He ignored me as I turned and plucked the butt from the water, dropping it into a rusted, dented coffee can near the door. It was clearly intended to be used as an ashtray but was overflowing onto the dock. Somebody needed to get out here and sweep. “He shouldn’t litter; it goes against every aspect of his nature.”
“He does it on purpose, just to see if he can,” Killian purred as the will-o-the-wisp danced around my head like a halo. “Now, should I get the airboat ready?”
“I thought the boys took the airboat for their business?” I asked, watching as both Killian and Reece smiled.
“Girl, dis is da bayou, and there’s only one way to get around out dere and let me tell ya—it ain’t on the back of no hog.”
#
I sat at the front of the airboat with my mouth closed tight, my head whipping every which way as I tried to take it all in. It was dark out, but the Veil Keeper’s eyes had mighty fine night vision, at least ten times as good as anything I’d experienced as Ciarah. I tried not to think how that was a boon now … and had been a horror before.
Even trapped in the dark, I’d been able to see things I hadn’t wanted to see. At least … when my eyes had still worked … They’d been seared and blinded … healed and seared again …
I clenched my jaw tight and held a hand over my stomach. I couldn’t throw up right now, not with the small rickety metal boat gliding as fast as it was. It would all come back on us, and I didn’t think me or a single one of my four companions would appreciate that. Besides, the reason my mouth was clenched so tight was because I’d already learned a very important lesson abou
t how many insects made their home out here in the bayou. We’d also driven through some very impressive spiderwebs, and I felt like my hair was crawling. Not that I had a problem with spiders though, because I distinctly did not. Everything out here had its place. If anything, we were the intruders.
Reece killed the boat’s engine at the edge of some swampy marshland. At first glance, it looked solid but as we drifted, I saw in shafts of moonlight that it was nothing more than mud on water. Yanking my ear muffs down to my neck, I stood up and the entire boat rocked violently.
“Careful there, Gardien,” Reece said with a chuckle, “you don’ wanna go swimmin’ in the bayou at this time o’ da night.”
“We’re here?” I asked and I swear, his grins were so big, so full of emotion, that I could just feel the expression behind me.
“We’re here,” he said, and then used a rope to tie us to the gnarled limb of a nearby tree.
As I watched, Reece stepped down with one massive boot and sunk about an inch into the muck before it seemed like he settled on something solid.
“C’mere, girl, and you best watch old Reece if you don’ wanna end up takin’ a swim with Meme and her brudders.”
He reached out for my hand and helped me from the boat. I found my footing easily enough in the motorcycle boots the boys had encouraged me to wear, the thick soles perched on what seemed to be a sunken block of cement?
Reece led me through the tangled mess of tree limbs and clumps of hanging moss, taking out all the spiderwebs for me, like a real gentleman. Killian followed close behind, and then Amelie, and lastly, Arlo. I was pretty sure I could hear him cursing under his breath as we walked through the muck, massive lily pads slapping me in the calves as we moved, stirring up the water. I felt something slither between my legs, and I was almost certain it was a snake.
“Here we go,” Reece said, pulling me up onto the edge of a small island. It was so small, in fact, that I could easily see the entire thing from where I stood, even in the darkness. It was hardly large enough to hold both our group and the bald cypress tree that stood sentinel over it.
“Sir,” Arlo spat, like he’d rather chew on a piece of dried shit. “What do you want?”
A creaking sound echoed through the woods and chills skittered down my spine as I felt a movement of great power, ancient power, almost as old as I was. She was? Ciarah had been nineteen when she died. Those years of torture had felt like a hundred years, but my best guess estimate for how long I’d suffered … was five. So, I was twenty-four then?
“You young fool,” a man’s voice croaked, hoarse and brittle with disuse. At first, I thought the tree was speaking to us, but then the gnarled roots spread and a man appeared, curled on his side with horns as white as his grandson’s. Unlike his grandson however, his face was ancient as time, dressed in wrinkles, and puckered with distaste. His beard was made of moss and his eyes were the sage green of dried leaves.
He sat up and yawned, his old body covered in ink and faintly glowing. His skin was as silver as Arlo’s was without his glamour and as I watched, the will-o-the-wisp flitted over to him and settled itself on a nearby branch. Well, as much as a glowing ball of light could settle itself …
“You do wise to show respect, young buck,” he cautioned Arlo, who simply ground his teeth together and glared.
“Keeper,” the ancient fae greeted me, rising to his feet and towering over both me and my companions, “at last.”
“Hello,” I squeaked, more than a little intimidated by this creature. Somewhere inside me, though, I sensed he was one to trust. The Sage had not always been on the side of good—whatever that was—but this one was.
“It has been a very long time,” the Sage hummed and scratched at his moss-beard, causing little bits of greenery to flake off, “since your pretty face has graced this world. How have you been adjusting?”
Arlo snorted but I ignored him, my interest locked on the Sage and his fascinating appearance. “I've been… confused,” I admitted, and the moss covered man nodded … well … sagely.
“Understandable, given your ancient knowledge has been stripped from your very being.” He tapped at his lips with a finger that vaguely resembled a twig.
I frowned. “How do you know that?”
“Irrelevant.” He flapped his hand in the air and the will-o-the-wisp flittered around as though startled. “I've been holding some information for you for over one hundred years, waiting for you to reappear so that I might put you on your path to restoration.”
“Why you?” Arlo snapped, and the Sage swung his ancient eyes over to his grandson with a look that could strip bark.
“Because your papa knew he wasn't long for this world, and he needed to keep this scrap safe, should the Veil Keeper reappear.” The Sage gave Arlo a long stare until the younger man—fae, god, whatever—looked away first, and the old fae turned his stare back to me. “Your knights stripped you of any knowledge pertaining to the Veil, in an attempt to preserve the magic until such time as your earthly body might be recovered. They had left you with small clues of where to begin looking, but I suspect those crumbs may have gotten lost?”
Pursing my lips, I nodded. I knew they were there, I could sense them just out of reach, but when I tried to get them I became bogged down in pain.
“As I thought.” The Sage waved a hand at his tree, and it obligingly bowed down two branches to create seats, to which he indicated I sit. “Your former Lord of Spring entrusted his portion of your memories to my son, The Father, and requested they be hidden.”
“Within the Spear of Lug,” I whispered, my vision blurring and fading as I slipped into a dark and shadowy memory.
Faces like nightmares, shrouded in heavy hoods, gleaming white fangs from between leering lips. Another silent scream tore from my throat, my voice long since destroyed by years of wailing in agony. The Nightmare yanked again on my wing and I felt it tear from my flesh a little further as wet tears slid down my face.
My body hung limp and useless from the shackles on the roof, my wrists dead to feeling where the iron held them high, and my toes barely reached the ground. Every vicious tear of my wings sent my half-dead body swaying on the chains, the musical chime of metal on concrete my constant companion.
The Nightmare wrapped its filthy claws around the base of my wing once more, and tore it a little further from my back, and this time the agony was so sharp, so blinding, that my mind slipped from my body as it had done on a thousand occasions before.
“Stick with us, mo ghaol,” my lover begged inside my pain-filled brain, “the spell is almost ready. We have but one treasure left to find and then we can complete the transfer, starting with the Spear of Lug.”
“Please,” my mind’s voice begged, “please hurry. I need to know the knowledge is safe. After that, they can do as they please to this form and never succeed.”
“Tha gaol agam ort, Gràinne,” my lover, my Lord of Spring, whispered with reverence. “Please hold on a little longer. For us. For the Veil.”
“I love you too, Curadan,” my mind sighed, as agony dragged me back to consciousness, “all of you.”
“Curadan,” I repeated, this time in my own voice, and I felt the syllables slide over my tongue, both foreign and familiar all at the same time.
“Yes, your former Lord of Spring, Curadan Mac Daibheid. He and my son were close, and as the protector of the Spear, trusted no one else to hide such valuable information.” The Sage cocked his head, watching me with eyes as old as time itself. “Would you like to know where to begin, young Keeper?”
Still lost in the memory I had just lived through, I nodded slowly. Gràinne. Another name. Was it mine? Hers? Ours? Did we have one name that carried with our body or did we keep our own name from our former life? These were questions I needed to ask, but first…
“Yes, tell me. Where do I begin?”
“The spear is guarded and heavily spelled. To access it, you will need a key.” The Sage propped his bony elbows o
n his knees, his twig-like fingers steepled together.
“Of course she will,” Arlo muttered under his breath, but I ignored him and his grand-daddy issues.
“Do you have it?” I asked, both eagerly and reluctantly. Did I really want to recover all my memories? If that small flashback was a taste of what was to come… perhaps I might be better off not knowing?
In the memory, it had felt like I—Gràinne—had been almost ready to give up, but I knew she hadn't. That memory was old, maybe over one hundred years, and I was confident I hadn't suffered more than five under the care of those Nightmares.
A startling noise coughed from the Sage and I jumped, before realizing he was chuckling.
“Naw, Keeper,” he grinned, and a small woodworm wriggled from the corner of his mouth and down his beard. “That'd be too easy, see? The key is held by someone strong enough to keep it safe. Papa Cocodril.”
Reece made a noise that drew my attention, and I found him with a confused and bewildered look on his handsome face. “Papa Cocodril?” he repeated, and the Sage nodded.“Dat ol' voodoo man ain't real. He nutin' more dan a story ma Mère told us as chevrette.”
“Don't you know, boy? All the best stories are based in truth.” The Sage turned his wise old eyes back to me. “Papa Cocodril is very real, and he has your key.”
His words were said carefully, and each one rang with the clean feeling of truth.
“He ran afoul of the Swamp Witch some years past, but you can still find him on the apex of the bayou, when the moon is full. You'll need to go alone, Keeper, as he won't show for any but you.” The old tree man held my gaze for a long moment, before his eyelids drooped. “Now, get you gone. This old man has had enough excitement for one year.”
My mouth opened to ask more questions, but Killian's hand closed over my wrist, pulling me gently to my feet.
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