Airech had been accused of much worse over the centuries. But somehow it was Devin’s quiet words that stung the most.
“If you know what I am, and you can’t fall in love with me either, then there’s no problem,” he said quickly. “It’s the perfect victimless crime.”
Devin shook his head, looking haunted, shadows heavy under his eyes.
“I’m not so sure of that. Not anymore. I feel like I’m constantly teetering on the edge, these days.”
“What changed?” Airech wondered.
“I wish I knew,” Devin said. “Believe me, it was so much easier being that guy.”
Airech stayed silent, watching Devin distractedly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He agreed with him wholeheartedly. Being that guy was simpler, with the added guarantee of being pain free. If Devin had a choice, he’d probably still be that way. So why did Airech feel almost envious of him and his change of heart?
“Does that mean you feel something for me? Do you like me?” Airech knew he cared about Devin’s answer more than he should.
“I like you better when you’re not being a dick, always referring to your dick and what you’d like to do with your dick.”
“Okay, no more dick talk.” He held his hands up in mock surrender.
“I didn’t say no more dick talk,” Devin said, grinning. “But I would prefer it to be less than ninety-nine point nine per cent of your conversation.”
“Here, take this. It’s a bit sweaty, but it’s better than nothing. Your chest could give someone a heart attack.”
Airech took the black jacket Devin offered him and slipped it on, subtly inhaling the scent that clung to the denim. He buttoned it up to his chin and followed Devin through the entrance. His mind reeled from the sensation that hit him as soon as the glass door slid shut behind them. It was one he knew all too well. Advanced age, mixed with a side serving of imminent death.
“What is this place?” He winced as the vibrations hit him with full force.
“It’s sort of a nursing home, a special type of hospital for old people. Though the person I visit isn’t old. She’s… you’ll see.”
They walked past the front desk and along a narrow corridor, passing a few residents shuffling in the halls. Airech was careful not to make eye contact with them. A death stare was the last thing these people needed; it wouldn’t take much to send them over. Bending his head, he let his hair fall over his eyes to shield them. It didn’t need to be like this. But it wasn’t his place to intervene. Not anymore.
The familiar ache of loss twisted deep in his gut. More than he cared to admit, he missed being the Dark Bringer, when his powers of seduction had a noble purpose. It was Airech who’d charmed the dying onto his barge and sailed them to Tech Duinn, the gathering place for the souls of the dead. But banding together with Fintan and Cap hadn’t been a popular decision with his tribe, and now the Dark Bringer was exiled from the dark.
Through his curtain of jet locks, Airech caught a woman with a cloud of white hair approaching with as much speed as her walking frame would allow, wheeling to a stop in from them.
“You!” she exclaimed, beginning to tremble. She grabbed one of Airech’s hands and clasped it in hers. Her papery skin felt dry and somehow comforting, like a handful of fallen leaves.
“Do you not remember? 1953. You were standing on the bridge by the salmon run. That night we ate wild salmon, and you told me you’d never forget me.”
Airech gave her one of his captivating smiles without quite meeting her eyes.
“And how could I?” he asked softly. “When you’re as beautiful now as you were then?” He bent and kissed her hand, before gently releasing it and walking on. When he glanced back, she was standing in the middle of the corridor, her face blissful. He felt a pang of sweet regret for the impermanence of mortals.
“I’m sorry about Mrs Feeney. She hasn’t been herself in years,” Devin said.
“It is sad to see her like that. I remember her with the most exquisite chestnut curls.” Airech made a face. “I don’t even like salmon. The things I do for love.”
“Wait, what?” Devin froze, and Airech turned to him, smirking.
“You’re right, though, her mind is going. It was 1954.”
Devin led Airech through an open doorway to their left, into a small room. Kneeling, he clasped the hands of a woman who sat in a wheelchair by the window. Despite her long silver hair, her skin was unlined and her strained face seemed ravaged by pain rather than age.
Airech heard her murmuring under her breath, the words barely distinct. Pausing to listen, he realised she wasn’t talking, but singing. It was a tune that was instantly familiar to him. A sudden rush of sorrow made his eyes sting. It was a long time since he’d heard those words coming from any lips but his own.
“Airech, this is my mom, Fiadh.”
Airech stepped forward, his heart beating in time to her song.
“Your mother is alive. How did Fintan not know that?” he demanded.
“Fintan doesn’t know everything.”
“He actually sort of does.”
“I guess I can’t stand talking about it,” Devin said uneasily. “She’s been like this since the night we both nearly drowned. She just sits there, singing to herself.”
Airech took a deep steadying breath as Devin’s mother sang on. Her eyes were open, staring into the middle distance, past Devin’s face. Quietly, Airech joined in, revelling in the old words as they resounded deep inside him. Devin interrupting him after a few lines.
“You know that song.” It was a statement, not a question.
“It’s battle magic, what we call rosceanna. This one is a counter-charm to ward off an attack,” Airech said.
“I remember some Irish from school, but I never realised that’s what it was. I thought they were random words. Not anything that made sense. Until I heard you sing that same song when those bat things were after us.”
“It’s Gaelic. Ancient Irish. An invocation. You know, a cry for help.” Airech choked up, unwilling to linger any longer in his memories. Clearing his throat roughly, he began to sing again, his silken voice copying the quivering words of Devin’s mother.
“I invoke the land of Ireland,
much-coursed be the fertile sea,
Fertile be the fruit-strewn mountain,
Fruit-strewn be the showery wood.”
“But why is mom singing it?” Devin wondered. “How does she even know it at all?”
Airech’s quicksilver mind raced with possibilities. There was only one way of finding out if any of them might be real. He felt a surge of excitement, his eyes sparkling as he turned to Devin and grabbed his hand, pulling him up off his knees.
“A wood. With water. Is there a place around here like that?”
“Dromore Wood. It’s beside a lough,” Devin told him. “About half an hour away. Why?”
“Because that’s where we need to take your mother.”
“This seems a long way to go for some trees. Did you barbaric humans have to cut them all down? Are you sure there’s a wood near here?” Airech burned with impatience, looking out at the rocks and fields.
“I’m sure. It’s a nature reserve. Mom used to take me there as a kid,” Devin told him. “It’s over this hill.”
Airech drummed on the dashboard, the adrenaline still pumping through him. Spending a full half-hour convincing a reluctant Devin had been the most difficult part of breaking Fiadh out of the nursing home. From there it’d been simple for Devin to wheel her calmly past the front desk, while Airech distracted the man behind it.
He’d been more than willing to use his enchantments to put the staff to sleep or cause a small diversion, like a fire in the kitchen, but Devin had expressly forbidden it. Luckily, Airech’s intoxicating charm had been enough to blind the receptionist. They drove away with Fiadh between them and the receptionist’s phone number in Airech’s back pocket.
As they raced along the country lane, F
iadh quietly chanted the rosc. Her pale hair spilled down her back, Devin’s jacket buttoned over her long nightgown. Airech had been happy to relinquish it to her.
Braking, Devin took the entrance into the wood. He followed a curving road, finally stopping at a small rest area.
“This is as far as we can take the van. There’s a walking trail to the lough from here.” He looked doubtful. “We’ll never get her wheelchair down there.”
“I’ll carry her.” Airech opened the door of the van and jumped out. Leaning forward, he slid Fiadh towards him and scooped her up carefully. She was almost weightless, like an apparition in his arms.
They hurried along the forest path, the rough track heavy with mud and rotted leaves. Fiadh leaned into Airech, and he listened closely. Already her song was louder. Almost as if she could sense what was about to happen and was drawing strength from it.
Airech was sure Fiadh had been enchanted by a dlaoi fulla, the madman’s wisp, throwing her into total mental confusion. But it only worked on mortal minds. And Airech was fairly certain that Fiadh was only half-mortal. He was more interested in the other half.
The canopy of trees began opening up, and all at once they were stumbling into a clearing, onto the shore of a vast lake. Its quiet water reflected the pearly sky, shimmering silver. The boggy ground sucked at Airech’s feet as he carried Fiadh to the rushes by the edge. Carefully, almost reverently, he placed her on a nest of grass facing the lake, while Devin milled behind them, looking tense.
Working quickly, Airech cupped his hand, allowing the glistening water to collect on his palm. He began to chant to invoke the ancient gods and Fiadh’s words began to reflect his as she added a final verse to her lament.
“Deep-pooled be the hill-top well,
A well of tribes be the assembly,
The tribes of the sons of Míl.”
Airech poured the handful of water over Fiadh, watching it stream down her flowing hair. Devin darted forward, protesting, but Airech’s eyes held him at bay.
“Trust me,” he said.
His breath caught as Fiadh’s chant faded. She gave her head a little shake as if to clear it and whipped around, facing them. Devin’s lips trembled and he stepped towards her.
“Mom?”
Devin’s mother regarding him with warm brown eyes, her smile wistful. As they watched, the air exploded in shimmers around her. She kissed the tip of a finger and raised it towards Devin in the last moment before her human form disintegrated to dust.
Standing in the fragments was a doe, her glimmering silver coat a mirror of the pewter water behind her. Airech’s heart soared as she took off, racing into the woods without looking back, her delicate hoofbeats muffled by the fallen leaves.
“You can see why I couldn’t do that in the nursing home,” Airech said.
“What did you do?”
Airech turned to Devin in time to see him collapse to his knees, clutching his face. He hurried to him, kneeling beside him and slinging a comforting arm over his quaking shoulders.
“All I did was release her from her human chains and her madness,” he said. “Only one of the sons of Míl could release her. And I am one.”
“You killed her,” Devin said savagely.
“No! Her mortal self was long gone. Her body was only a shell, but the curse held her inside it, so she couldn’t shift and take her supernatural form.” Airech squeezed Devin tightly. “Your mother is a warrior and a brave one, too. She was using battle magic to travel to our realm in her mind, to protect herself from mortal death while she was trapped. It kept her safe until someone came to free her. Think, Devin,” he commanded. “When you entered our realm, in your dreams, your mother was there, wasn’t she?”
But Devin was beyond reason. Wrenching himself from Airech’s arms, he swung at him, his face twisted in fury. Instinctively a defensive chant flew from Airech lips. Eyes rolling back, Devin fell away from him, crumpling in a heap on the muddy shore.
Sighing, Airech stood up. Lifting Devin’s prone body, he slung him over his shoulder. With hasty strides he made his way back to the van, hoping that the freezing weather would deter anyone else from taking a walk in the woods. He didn’t fancy trying to explain how he came to be roaming a secluded forest with an unconscious man dangling down his back. His senses scanned the surrounding trees, but there was no imminent danger.
He made it to the van without breaking a sweat and paused, considering his options. Devin would wake up in an hour or two, unharmed, but he couldn’t possibly leave him or his van in the woods. Anyway technically, Airech was already a murderer. Kidnapping seemed like the logical next step.
Decision made, he threw open the back doors of the van. Impatiently he grabbed the folded wheelchair with his free arm and flung it deep into the woods. Sliding Devin into his arms, he laid him as gently as he could onto the thick blankets covering the floor. At least it was well padded.
With his long fingers, Airech delved into Devin’s pockets, finding the keys without any trouble. Slamming the back doors, he checked they were secure. The last thing he needed was for Devin to fall out.
Kidnapping was definitely easier than he imagined. There was only one small problem he needed to overcome. He hoped driving was as simple as it looked. But mortals did it all the time. How hard could it be?
Chapter 18
Fintan
Fintan seldom lost his temper. He’d nearly drowned in the Great Flood, spent many years trapped in his hawk form, and watched the victors become the vanquished time and time again. It was enough to teach him how little control he had over anything. And in his experience, that’s where most anger originated from—the need to control other people. More often than not, it came from people who couldn’t control themselves.
He had spent countless aeons giving wise counsel to the tribes of this land, which usually meant trying to prevent them from killing each other. He hadn’t always been successful. All the while watching everyone he loved being cut down in the prime of their youth. Or withering and dying, trampled under the relentless goose-step of time. After that, if you didn’t accept that control was at best, transitory, and more likely an illusion, then you were in for a great deal of anguish.
When the early Christians arrived, with their fear of the old pagan ways of disorder and chaos, he knew the time had come to bow out gracefully and embrace peaceful retirement.
Returning to band together with his ancient enemies for the common good was not a task he had ever relished. Especially when those old enemies insisted on making it as difficult as possible, pushing his even temper to the very edge of its outer limits. Particularly the one standing in front him at that very moment, flicking back his hair and not looking the slightest bit remorseful.
“Let’s see if I have a clear picture. You became aware almost immediately that Devin’s mother might be, in fact, a leathdhia, half-mortal, half-god.” Fintan usually found it difficult to reinforce his voice with this much steel, but Airech’s mutinous look made it easier.
“Yes.”
“And that she had descended into madness due to the dlaoi fulla, or some other form of druid trickery.”
“Correct.”
“And rather than pause in your act of recklessness to seek guidance from the other members of this band, you released her from her mortal form. Allowing her to shift into a deer and escape. In front of her own son, I might add.”
“I was testing my theory, that a son of Míl could free her. And I was right.”
The flash of pride on Airech’s face filled Fintan with a fury he hadn’t come close to feeling for several thousand years.
“You were right. And heedless, impetuous, arrogant, imprudent, headstrong—”
“I understand. You don’t need to beat me over the head with a thesaurus.”
“I doubt you do fully comprehend the consequences of your actions. Did you even think about what you were doing to Devin?”
Oblivious to their argument, Devin was curled up
on the furs in a dreamless sleep, sheltered by Cap’s protective bulk. Fintan had lifted Airech’s enchantment briefly to get him into the cave—even with their powers, they were hesitant to manoeuvre his unconscious body through the entry pool.
Even then, he had been wordless and unresponsive. When Fintan used magic to put Devin back under he had succumbed with resigned relief. Fintan ached in sympathy for the sadness waiting for him when he woke up. When he remembered his mother had been returned to him and then snatched away, almost in the same breath.
Airech rounded on Fintan, his fists clenched, contempt twisting his beautiful face. “I did it for Devin. You should have seen her. What would you have me do? Leave her trapped without her senses in that weak mortal form, until she crumbled away to nothing? Devin told me she fell from the cliff. Her mortal body probably didn’t even survive the fall. It was only the supernatural part that kept her alive for so long.”
His face softened, and his voice with it. “Listen to reason, Fintan. This was for the best. His mother has to be a daughter of Sadhbh. Knowing Devin has the blood of the deer goddess may be the clue we need to find out what he is to us. And we never would have known, if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”
Fintan felt the fierceness of his anger subside. Something stirred in his memory, forcing its way through millennia of tiny details to float to the surface of his mind.
“You know, Devin happened to mention his mother had a special name for him. Damhán alla. Spider, in the Irish of today. Literally speaking, it means fierce creature. But it also has another meaning, long forgotten.”
He paused, leaving Airech huffing with impatience.
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