Storm Boys

by Davis Lavender

  He huffed in annoyance. Ahead of him, a pack of Sluagh were circling, faintly visible against the dusky sky. Diving steeply, they swept the water. Two flew by in formation directly over him, their wake ruffling his forelock as they zoomed past, oblivious to his presence.

  One of the Sluagh broke from the swarm, descending slowly, gliding low across the choppy surface. It was moving differently from the others. As it got closer, Cap realised why. This Sluagh had made a capture, its talons clutching at the wrists of its prey, the body dangling down in front of it. Whoever its captive was, they were conscious, their head held erect and alert, looking out over the sea.

  When Cap took a closer look, the shock almost made him shift, back into human form. He checked himself, fighting the impulse to make a sound and betray their position. At the same time, he felt Devin stiffen on his back, his legs squeezing Cap’s sides.

  Rón. The name was a silent shout in Cap’s head, still echoing in his mind as Devin screamed at the sky.

  “Dad!”

  Cap could hardly take in the revelation that came with Devin’s cry. And to see his lost friend swinging in those talons made Cap, in his aughisky form, want to squeal with rage. But he was powerless to act. He had to deliver Devin to safety. Chasing after a Sluagh, especially one high on the blood lust of fresh spoils, would thrust both of them into the worst possible danger.

  Only a short time ago, nothing would have kept him from charging in to protect his oldest friend. That was until he found someone who needed him more. He’d broken the silence of one thousand years for him, after all. And now there was another reason to keep Devin safe—because he was Rón’s son.

  “Dad!” Devin’s second shout was whipped away by the wind. But it would only be a matter of time before one of the Sluagh heard him. As much as it wounded him, Cap had to get away from this place, from this Sluagh and its prisoner, before Devin betrayed them both.

  Without warning he plunged, feeling Devin grip his mane convulsively. He galloped along the sea bed, resurfacing some distance away. Devin’s coughing and spluttering flooded Cap with relief. The wild little stag had survived. He only hoped Rón would too, long enough for them to find him again.

  He could feel the vibrations along his spine as Devin shuddered with sobs. Whether his tears were for the friend he’d lost or the father he’d found, Cap had no way of knowing.

  Cap shied, startled by a looming shadow swallowing the dying sun behind him. Baring his teeth, he spun around to face it. Some sort of vessel was headed straight for him at breakneck speed, obviously unaffected by his enchantment.

  The craft glided to a stop and Cap recognised it even before Airech’s face appeared over the side, his eyes shining. It was the Donn’s barge, the Dark Bringer’s ship. No wonder he was looking so delighted with himself. Swiftly Cap shifted from his aughisky form, taking Devin from his shoulders and tucking him under an arm in one fluid movement. He swam them both to the side as Airech uncoiled a rope and let it drop.

  “Want a ride?” Airech called out.

  “Only if you mean the boat.” The words came out as a hoarse growl that tore at his throat. But the look on Airech’s face when he heard Cap speak was worth the discomfort.

  Chapter 36

  Devin

  Bren is dead. My Dad is alive. My Dad is alive. Bren is dead.

  The thoughts kept chasing each other in a relentless game of tag around Devin’s head. He felt himself being rocked gently, the sounds of the sea all around him—water lapping, gulls crying, and the ever-present wind. The memories Bren had given back to him were still scrambled, incomprehensible. His rapid pulse coursed Bren’s essence deeper into his body, strengthening him. He couldn’t open his eyes.

  Not yet.

  He thought he caught the voices of his storm boys, talking in undertones. He strained to listen over the thudding of his bruised heart. It was Fintan he recognised first, his musical tone soft and pleading. Airech’s silken voice answered, a hint of steel in his reply. Probably disagreeing with something Fintan had said. That was typical. And reassuringly normal. A third voice chimed in, rasping and hoarse, brusquely interrupting them both. It was so deep Devin felt the rumble in his own chest. He couldn’t place it at first until he realised he’d only heard it once before. Relief flooded him, leaving him feeling weightless and weak. They were all safe.

  He went in pursuit of his thoughts, trampling them, leaving them bloodied on the ground. He created new ones and set them free in his mind.

  Destroy Zaz. Save my father. Save my father. Destroy Zaz.

  Chapter 37

  Devin

  “Devin, I know you’re awake.”

  Airech’s hand was so light, Devin barely felt it stroking his forehead.

  “Where are we?” he murmured.

  “On my old barge. From my days of dark bringing.”

  Devin opened his eyes. Gradually his blurred vision cleared, allowing him to focus on Airech’s handsome face. His forehead was creased, his sweeping black brows drawn together. It hadn’t been a dream. He was safe. Not looking exactly happy, but he was there. That meant the others were too.

  All except one.

  Devin peered past Airech to take in the narrow cabin. The walls were made of tightly stretched hides, with more curving over his head.

  “They gave you your barge back?”

  Airech flashed a quick grin. “They never said I couldn’t borrow it. But then, I didn’t ask them either.”

  “So we’re at Tech Duinn?” As Devin sat up on the low bed his head whirled, and Airech caught his arm, steadying him. One end of the cabin was open, offering a glimpse of the stern and the calm ocean beyond it.

  “Just outside. We’re having some… visa problems. They don’t approve of my current lifestyle or the company I keep.” Airech shrugged. “We’ll sort it out.”

  “So I’m not immortal?”

  “Let’s say you’re a work in progress.” Airech spoke with a forced cheerfulness that didn’t reach his eyes. “But you’re safe for now. The window to your soul has closed, and Bren gave you enough of his essence to keep you going for some time yet.”

  Bren. Devin could hardly stand to hear his name. His grief was a sulphurous geyser of toxic pain, ready to explode. “But that means it was all for nothing. If the window’s closed, it means we’re too late.”

  “We’ll find a way.” Airech’s clasped his hand. “Don’t worry, Fintan’s on it.”

  Devin glanced down. Someone had dressed him in a tunic of deep blue that ended at his knees, with leggings of soft leather underneath. Looking more closely at Airech, he noticed that for once his chest was covered, hidden under a long black robe held together with a glimmering silver brooch.

  Seeing Airech clad in black stirred Devin’s memory, of a man suspended in mid-air, darkness swirling all around him. Horror spun his mind like a wheel, giving him another rush of dizziness. “My Dad, he was—”

  “Cap told us,” Airech said gently.

  “So it wasn’t my imagination. I did hear Cap talk.”

  “I’m not sure it’ll be an improvement, considering how much he complains about me already.” Airech grimaced. “Now he has words as well as dirty looks at his disposal.” He looked at Devin curiously. “You have no idea who your father is, do you?”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re about to tell me he isn’t Ryan Donovan, 2009 Body Surfing Champion of Europe?”

  “He’s Rón. Grandson of Balor of the Evil Eye. Brother of Lugh of the Long Arm. That’s some pretty impressive lineage you have there.”

  It was almost too much for Devin to take in. He was still coming to terms with the fact that for a third of his life, he’d been dead. Now it seemed like his whole life wasn’t his at all. It belonged to someone ordinary, who didn’t have a god for a father or a best friend who grew wings and fell out of the sky.

  Airech patted Devin’s knee. “If you’re up to it, let’s go find the others. Fintan will be able to tell you more.” He took
a bundle of grey cloth from the bottom of the bed and handed it to Devin. “Put this on. It’s chilly on deck.”

  It was a long robe of silvery grey with wide sleeves and a deep hood. Slipping it over his shoulders, Devin followed Airech into the open air. Cap and Fintan were leaning against the side of the barge, looking towards a towering arch of rock soaring from the ocean.

  “Tech Duinn,” Airech said.

  Fintan turned, his soft face glowing. He looked impossibly noble and elegant in his simple cream tunic, gathered together with a wide belt and laced at the neck with a strip of leather.

  “Devin. I’m so grateful you’re alright.” He rushed over, taking both of Devin’s hands. His gentle touch swept Devin up in a wave of pure joy, only for him to be dragged under by a swell of guilt.

  “Airech says you can tell me about my father,” he said abruptly.

  Fintan frowned, the light leaving his face. “There’ll be time for that later.”

  “The time has to be now. Because his is running out. It might already be too late. How many days have I been under?”

  “I want you to regain your strength first.”

  “I won’t get any stronger. And he’ll be getting weaker. Tell me.” Devin’s voice rang out over the waves.

  “Fierce one, you must calm your—”

  “He’s Fomorian,” Airech broke in, as Fintan glared at him. “At least his mother was. And that makes him the last remaining Fomorian god. According to Fintan’s precious prophecies, he’s the missing member of our band.”

  Devin tried to pull away, but Fintan resisted, holding him in a convulsive grip. He stared into the god’s ancient eyes.

  “So you don’t need me, after all. My dad is the one you’re looking for.”

  “No, Devin,” Fintan said. “You led us to him. I believe that was your reason for summoning us, all along.”

  “Let me rephrase that,” Devin said hoarsely. “You don’t need me anymore.”

  “I need you.” Over Fintan’s shoulder, Cap’s face was unbearably gentle, countering the roughness of his voice.

  “Try and look on the bright side.” Airech gave Devin a shaky smile. “You’re the only mortal I’ve ever met who’s practically three-quarters supernatural. You’re levelling up all the time. And Cap has something for you.”

  Reaching inside his long red robe, the god retrieved Devin’s fiddle and bow, presenting them to him with a flourish. The sight made his heart twist uncomfortably.

  Fintan released him, and Devin took the fiddle from Cap, feeling it quiver slightly in his hands as he examined it. Impulsively, he tucked it under his chin and began to play. As the song rose into the air, he conjured up a familiar beloved face. He tied a wish to it, murmuring a name under his breath.

  “What is that song you’re playing?” Fintan asked.

  “It’s Bren’s favourite song.” Devin choked out. “The one that was playing when we first met. The Whole of the Moon.”

  Fintan’s eyes shone with sadness. “Fierce one, you won’t be able to summon him, as much as you might need him. You saw him fall. I did too.”

  A fresh surge of grief kneed Devin in the gut. “But if he’s an angel, isn’t he immortal?”

  “I fear he wasn’t completely immortal,” Fintan said reluctantly. “He had a human weakness.”

  “A piece of my soul.”

  “I’m sorry, Devin.”

  “I wanted him to keep it, and it killed him.”

  Every time Devin had faced the unbearable, he’d somehow found a way to bear it. To keep walking, talking, even laughing. Surviving. He’d been doing it since he was eleven years old. He didn’t know if he could do it any more.

  “He wouldn’t want you to look at it that way,” Airech said almost sternly. “His destiny was to protect you. And he fulfilled it. We’ll make sure his sacrifice doesn’t go to waste.” His eyes glistened. “We need you to help us make sure.”

  The wobble in Airech’s voice shook Devin. He stared at him, realisation dawning. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who had discovered feelings for Bren, a little too late.

  “Your father isn’t only the last Fomorian. He was my friend.” With powerful fingers, Cap gripped Devin’s shoulder. “We’ll take him from the Sluagh, and then—it begins. And when it does, we want you there, beside us.”

  Lowering his fiddle, Devin looked at each of his storm boys in turn.

  “But if Dad is your fourth, where does that leave me? Us? Does that mean we can’t…” Fear squeezed his throat, cutting him short.

  “We’ll join your father in a professional capacity only,” Fintan said with one of his shy smiles. “In all other ways, we’re with you. I’ve always told you, our feelings for you are because you’re you. Not because of who you might be.”

  Devin’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re still going to be with each other, right?”

  Fintan gave an impatient sigh. “I’m afraid it complicates matters. If we continue to be… involved with each other, it will only be because you insist on it.”

  “I do insist,” Devin said. “And you’re only making it my decision so you don’t have to admit how much you want it.”

  He stared at the three gods, daring them with steely eyes. “So what’s it to be? Are you going to deny it forever, or are you going to say it?”

  “Don’t make me say it.” Fintan words were so soft, Devin had to strain to hear him. “I swore when the last of my clan died, I’d never say it again.”

  Swinging a mighty arm over Fintan’s slim shoulders, Cap drew him close. Airech moved to face them both, his dark eyes dancing.

  “I’ve never said it,” Airech said. “But I’ll say this. I’m so close to home I can almost taste it. The closest I’ve been since we were all thrown together. And you know what? I’d rather be here, with you. We didn’t choose to be in this band. It chose us. But you, old man. And you, you overgrown circus pony. I want you. I choose you.”

  Fintan took Airech’s face in his hands, kissing him with a fierceness that made Devin’s spine tingle and his heart sing. He felt the tears welling at the sight of those three dark heads huddled together. Once they’d been mysterious shapes, haunting him in his restless sleep. Now seeing them was the only thing that gave him any peace.

  Fintan pulled away from Airech breathlessly, grinning uncertainly at Devin.

  “Does that satisfy you?”

  “Almost.”

  With a low growl of longing, Devin gathered his storm boys into his arms.

  Chapter 38

  Zaz

  Hurtling towards the rock shelf, Zaz narrowly avoided a collision with Gabriel. And no wonder. That overbearing angel liked to turn even the most straight-forward manoeuvre into a performance of Swan Lake. His elegant descent, toes first, had him suspended in the air for so long that Zaz was forced to take evasive action. He came zooming in a few seconds later, skidding dramatically to a halt only inches from Gabriel’s right wingtip.

  “Just because you have the wings of a bat, it doesn’t mean you have to behave like an animal,” Gabriel said curtly.

  “What, you don’t like my Bruce Wayne?” Zaz flourished one wing under his eyes, masking most of his face. “I am Bat—”

  “Enough! Having bat wings does not make you a superhero either. Your fascination with mindless mortal nonsense is as disturbing as it is inexplicable.”

  Zaz bit his lip to avoid replying. There was no point. He had to be satisfied with making a rude gesture behind those showy golden feathers instead, yet another example of the popular culture he’d embraced. Gabriel had never been mortal. He was created supernatural, which, in his mind, made him vastly superior to all other beings. But what, Zaz wanted to know, was so wrong with being human?

  Consorting with mortals had long been among his favourite pastimes, even back when he was considered one of the good guys. The chaos of human existence had always appealed to him. Technically, he might have to claim responsibility for some of that mayhem, by teaching humanity a tri
ck or two—mostly involving sharp pointy things.

  The bloodshed that came after he introduced them to weapons was somehow his fault, if you wanted to believe everything you read in the Bible. Zaz had generously shared his knowledge, and what did he get for his trouble? A one-way ticket out of heaven. Oh, well. He grinned, savouring the memory until Gabriel’s petulant voice broke through his thoughts.

  “My host has swept the entire ocean over two realms, and I’m afraid they’ve found no trace of the mortal or his companions. That aughisky is one of the Tuatha Dé, with féth fíada magic. The only angel who might have been able to penetrate it is currently… indisposed.” Gabriel’s mouth twisted in distaste.

  Zaz glanced at the crumpled form at his feet, the object of the angel’s disgust. Gabriel’s former lover lay sprawled on the ground on his stomach, his elbows bent, his head slumped on his hands. His red locks were caked with blood, the dark stain turning them a dull black that swallowed the dying light. His face, partially obscured by his matted hair, was almost unrecognisable, his cheek hideously swollen, his eye squeezed shut.

  A jagged weeping wound on his back was torn through ridges of scar tissue, leaving rivulets running down his side. They dripped onto the rocks beside him, clouding the puddles of seawater to dull rust. The feathers of his remaining wing were tinged pale red, the bones underneath twisted and misshapen.

  “You fool.” Zaz spoke in an undertone, conscious of Gabriel and his sonar hearing.

  He was surprised by the rush of sympathy that tinged his contempt as he gazed at Rael’s battered body. His old adversary had surrendered to the greatest of all human weakness and where had it gotten him? The demon felt like capturing an image of that blood-drenched, broken face and including it as a public service announcement at the beginning of every romantic book and film. To make it the first thing mortals saw when they opened their dating apps. This is love, people. This is what it does to you.