Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel

by Alisha Ashton

  Latharn’s eyes narrowed on Ciaran suspiciously.

  The Irishman looked everywhere but in his direction.

  “Tha would be the eternal pup there peepin’ away. Aye, reddin’ the fire as always – worryin the pack for nah a thing,” Latharn chided before rubbing his long, snowy white beard and leaning back in his chair. “I gather ya calling for me less than a day after them means your questions are of the same nature. So, speak your piece before I go puttin any more grief on those fine, broad shoulders of yours.”

  The men all started howling again and Taran laughed. “All right...” he said, resting his arms on the table and looking around the group, smirking to himself knowing how good he was going to get them with this. “I’ve a pup at the castle now, a good pup. Came to me from across the seas – an American, no less. Stronger than most any I’ve seen in my days. Vicious and smart as a whip. Stands just aboot a meter and a half tall.” He held a hand out beside him to show how short this pup was. The confusion instantly became evident in their faces.

  Ciaran realized that even he had a few inches on this pup. His brow arched at the rarity of being taller than a clansmen as he waited for Taran to go on.

  “Just a wee thing, really,” Taran continued casually. “Honey colored hair, full lips, beautiful eyes, a body to make ya bite your hand and swear to Chreest...” With a devious smile, he looked up at them as he finished with, “She goes by the name of Skye.”

  Jaws hung open in surprise around the table.

  “You’ve a pup... tha’s a lass?” Latharn asked worriedly. He sank back into his chair when Taran nodded that it was true.

  “Aw, damn the luck!” Ciaran cried. “I knew I should have taken another turn at the castle this past century!”

  Taran laughed as the men shouted abuse at him. When he turned back to face Latharn, however, he frowned seeing a grave expression on the man’s face.

  “Which brings me to my questions,” Taran breathed. “First, I’ve never had reason to ask, but why was the law written tha women can ne’er be given the bite? I know there were two attempts made, but I never heard how or why they died.”

  Latharn sighed, looking down at the table and thrumming his fingers across it for a moment before answering. “The change is too much for them, Taran,” he answered solemnly. “We’ve ne’er known for sure why tha is. Perhaps their bodies are simply nah strong enough to withstand what the transformation entails. We have to figure it’s nah a matter of them lacking a tolerance for pain. Women are born with a natural advantage over us so far as pain’s concerned, so’s they can go giving birth when their time comes. But despite nah knowing the answer, it’s often been discussed. The most common theories as to why the change is so deadly for them are, one: men are closer to beasts while women are closer to nature; and two: our Maker was a man. Whatever the reason is, they do nah survive. The two ya spoke of were bitten by lovesick, weak whelps seeking to keep their lasses with them forever. Neither of them lived through the change. And the way they went...” He closed his eyes and winced. “It would have been a terrible way for a man to die. But for a woman? Ya can nah imagine what they endured before they passed.” He shook his head mournfully at the memory. “I was there for the second one’s death. Broke my heart to no end tha I could nah help her,” he recalled in a strained voice.

  After a moment of reflection, he took a steadying breath and looked sorrowfully into Taran’s eyes. He hated that it was true, but the woman that Taran was speaking so highly of was going to die soon in a similar manner. Anger began to rise in him that, despite the risk, someone had gone against the laws. To add insult to injury, the woman now facing imminent death was the first he had ever heard Taran speak of in such a manner. After four millennia, love had finally found him, and now it was to be stolen away.

  “Only one as inexperienced as a pup would bite a woman,” he snarled. “To do so is to kill an innocent lass for nah a reason at all! Tha’s why I wrote the damned law to begin with. We will do what little we can to ease your lass’ passing, Taran. After tha, ya have my vow, the one who’s done it and the pack tha gave consent will be dealt with for this.”

  Heated voices instantly piped in with their agreement, demanding the name and blood of the offender.

  Taran held up an imploring hand seeing the outrage that was spreading through the group like wildfire. The thought of killing a woman out of the selfishness of wanting to prolong her life was not sitting well with them.

  “Calm yourselves, my brothers,” he urged. “Skye is fine. Healthy as an ox and strong enough to fight even myself. It was nah a pup tha did this; was one as old as any one of us. He’s nah had a chance to explain his reasons, but he assures me tha there was nah another way.” He waited as the men fell to tense silence. “Now, from what you’re telling me, Latharn, women can nah sustain the change even once, is tha right?”

  “Aye,” Latharn agreed quietly.

  “Skye has already made it through three changes,” Taran informed him. “Why is she any different?”

  Latharn’s eyes widened in surprise. “She was bitten prior to the full moon?” He asked in astonishment. He had assumed that she received the bite during the past three nights. Were that the case, she would not have been due to transform for another month.

  “Aye, she arrived here on the eve of her first change, and she endured it with a level of ease tha I’ve ne’er before witnessed. What does it mean?” He asked worriedly.

  Confused murmurs broke out, though no one seemed to have an answer to this.

  Cathal spoke up, his baritone voice rumbling through the room. “Maybe she was just more conditioned for it. Ya say she fights well, what aboot before the change?”

  Taran gave an impressed nod. “She was a hellion from what I’m told. Attacked one of our ancients without a weapon – thought he was of the fògaraich.”

  The men all stared at him in astonishment.

  “She attacked what she thought was a fògarach, unarmed when she was still but a mortal?” Cathal asked slowly.

  “Apparently, she’d wiped out several nests of them by herself,” Taran said with pride.

  “Aww Chreest, she’s nah one of the daft stake-wielders, is she?” Latharn asked in disgust, though relief was plain in his features that she might yet have a chance.

  Taran laughed. “She’s nah – but they are the ones tha brought her to me. Due to a misunderstanding...”

  Well that’s certainly one way of describing it, he thought.

  “She was separated from her Maker in a battle with the fògaraich. The Ashers took her in to mend her wounds, but they did nah know enough aboot our kind to be able to help her and the moon was fast approaching. One of their members, a lad I’ve known for the past few years, personally ensured her safe passage all the way from the States to our door to see tha she reached her clansmen,” he said, figuring he owed it to Miko for all the abuse he subjected him to.

  The men exchanged surprised looks at that, not saying a word in response, but keeping it in mind for the next time they crossed paths with the Ashers. Taran’s words had just earned them a small amount of favor in the eyes of the clan.

  “First thing they’ve done right in their miserable existence. Well, aside from killin a few of the vermin,” Latharn granted with a smile and the other men laughed. “This Asher lad, is he still hanging aboot?”

  “Aye,” Taran answered. “He is fiercely loyal to Skye and the only thing familiar to her in this country. For these reasons, as well as his selfless efforts to aid her, I’ve allowed him to remain at the castle. Despite her hesitancy to admit the fact, the lad is a friend to her. With the hand she was dealt, she does nah have very many in this world.”

  The men all nodded sympathetically and turned to Latharn.

  “Very well,” Latharn sighed. “I s’pose it would nah be fair to the lass to send him on his way then. So, we’ve a new member to welcome to the clan. Why am I nah seein her here with ya?” He asked suspiciously. He was getting the
distinct feeling that there was a lot more to be told.

  “She’s...” Taran began, but paused and shook his head. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he spoke. “She’s nah like any woman I’ve ever met,” he began and held up a hand as the men started whistling and knocking on the table excitedly. “There are things aboot her tha trouble me,” he confessed softly. The men settled down seeing his concerned expression. “For starters, I’ve been told by a reliable source tha her eyes were blue and yellow before she was bitten. Tha when she was angered, the yellow swirled and clouded the blue.”

  Suddenly, you could have heard a pin drop in the room.

  Taran took a deep breath before continuing. “And she is drawn to the forest, says she feels like it is calling to her. The gardens are glowing again in a way I’ve nah seen since my making. She was at the lake yesterday and told me tha a child had been born in the waters – said she could see it almost like a memory.”

  Latharn exhaled slowly and looked around the room of shocked faces. “Best she nah wander from the castle then,” he all but whispered.

  Taran looked down at the table as he continued, trying to recall Skye’s words without the memory of the pain in her eyes as she had spoken them. “The fògaraich murdered her parents when she was barely more than a child, took her and her brothers from their home. I have to wonder what it was they knew to make them do something so reckless in the heart of a modern city? They turned the boys, but held her captive – tortured her for nearly ten years. I’ve nah a clue what they were up to, keeping her mortal while she grew an all tha. What were they waiting for? And whatever it was they were after, they did nah get the chance to follow through. She broke free just a few years ago, burned the entire coven to the ground, and hunted down and killed all of her brothers. The last of which was on the night her Maker came upon her. So many things just do nah add up.”

  Cathal let out a low whistle. “Yellow eyes, memories of a birth tha took place thousands of years before her own, drawn to the forest, the first female to survive the change, and the fògaraich have an agenda for her?”

  “Sweet Jesus... Ya don’t s’pose... ?” Ciaran whispered.

  Latharn held up a hand. “What I do s’pose, is given the delicacy of this matter, a Gathering is needed before this is discussed further. It is nah to be mentioned beyond these walls until then. Take great care nah to put words to the possibility, men. We have waited for a moment such as this for all of our existence. Let nah loose lips spell defeat for our kind.” He looked around the room, waiting until all had nodded their agreement before turning back to Taran. “We call our brethren home for this. T’is bigger than just a few of us. We shall reunite the clan – every last pack – and go to Him together,” he said, giving Taran’s hand a squeeze of reassurance. “The ainmhidh tha came to me brought warning of whispers in the winds. It’s nearly tha time again, lad.”

  Taran swallowed hard. “Drostan is hearing the whispers as well. He was the one tha gave Skye the bite.”

  Latharn closed his eyes at the confirmation. “He’s still got the gift then. For it to be starting up again after four millennia... ?” He looked around the room and sighed. “I think we can all agree tha this is nah all happening at the same time by chance. The need is upon us for Skye’s protection now. We will bring as many as we can to the castle by this night. The others will arrive over the next few days. If the young ones ask why we are reuniting because of Skye, give them a good smack upside the head and tell them to pipe down, then say it’s because she’s the first woman of our kind.” The men all muttered their agreement. “Taran, keep her safe until we arrive to aid ya.”

  “Aye,” Taran said quietly. “There is one other thing. And I do nah want any jokin round aboot it, either. It is nah a matter to be treated lightly.” He pointed around the table challengingly and waited for them to each nod their understanding. “She and I will be joined, but with all tha she has been through, I am nah puttin a great deal of pressure on the matter. I do nah feel it would be right to. Now, I am telling ya this, nah only to make my intentions known should any of ya bastards be unwise enough to try your luck against me...”

  He paused and watched the men shaking their heads that they would do no such thing, then smiled lightly when he caught Ciaran’s grin at the end of the table. Ciaran was like a little brother ready to burst with excitement hearing Taran’s intentions to take a mate.

  “... but also because this mornin’, when I went to let her out of the cage, she had a different scent aboot her. The wolf in her was calling to me in a way tha I can nah even begin to describe. It’s far beyond lust. I almost answered the request without thought. Her eyes were yellow – nah a trace of blue to be found in them and she was nah acting herself.”

  “Ya don’t s’pose she’d get tha part from the female wolf, do ya?” Cathal asked Latharn quietly.

  Latharn’s brow arched severely. “Aye, I do,” he answered in shock. “Taran, ol’ friend, she may be callin to ya by scent because despite the woman nah being ready to mate, the wolf is. She keeps up with tha and it’ll be best tha we all stay clear of her when we arrive at the castle. Sounds as if she’s going into a faol version of heat and I do nah want half the clan killin one another for the right to claim her.”

  “So, ya think... she’s... ?” Taran tried, his eyes shifting back and forth between them. He hated that they had reached the same dreaded conclusion as he had.

  “In heat, brother,” Cathal finished and shook his head in disbelief at his own words.

  “Well... will she go... out of heat?” Taran asked.

  “With a wolf it can take a week or so, but this is new territory. I can nah say with any level of certainty, but maybe she’ll be fine after ya give it to her,” Latharn suggested, though he did not seem the least bit sure of his words.

  Taran groaned and rubbed his temples. “It’s nah so simple as tha. She’s nah the type to trust easily and, if I were to let this happen, she’d blame me for it the second she was back to herself again.”

  “Tha’s your noble heart talking, lad. It’s a weakness we all share,” Latharn said with a smile. “Then all ya can do is keep her caged and keep your distance. You’re up against nature and magic combined. Will be damned near impossible to control yourself if she gets her hands on ya.”

  “Do ya think mortals will respond to her?” Taran asked in sudden realization.

  “Mortal women respond to us more readily than they do to mortal men. I’d say mortal men will nah stand a chance against her,” Latharn speculated and the rest of the men nodded their agreement.

  “In tha case I’d best be on my way,” he said fretfully as he stood from the table. “Will be seein ya all tonight, then?”

  Latharn smiled and stood to give him a tight embrace. “Most definitely. Take care, lad. We’ll be there just as soon as we can.”

  Taran said his goodbyes, but he should have known that he would not get off that easily. By the time he reached his car, Ciaran was already seated on the passenger side waiting.

  “Don’t ya have something else to do before this starts?” Taran asked with a smile. He leaned his head to the side, peering in through the window at the stowaway.

  “So, the sultan of celibacy himself finally plans to get down and dirty doing a little mattress-dancin’, yeah?” Ciaran teased.

  “Aye, something like tha,” Taran laughed. “Now, off with ya! Get! Shoo!” He tried, but Ciaran remained glued in place.

  “What’s she like? Will I approve? Tha is a deciding factor in whether or nah you’ll be allowed to keep her, in case ya were wonderin’. Is she pretty? How’s she look? Does she know you’re into her yet? How into her are ya? D’ya loooove her? Does she make your knees go all weak and your palms go all sweaty and your heart race?”

  “Tha’s it. Enough,” Taran said with a laugh as he walked around the car to Ciaran’s door and yanked it open.

  “Aww, come on! I want some details, damn it!” Ciaran whined as h
e was hauled out of the car.

  “And you’ll have them when ya meet her tonight. But first, I need to make sure she’s nah conned her way outta the cage,” Taran urged.

  “Finnneee,” Ciaran groaned like an impatient child and let his body go limp in disappointment. “But I do hope you’ll let the girl get some rest in the meantime. I’ll have a list of interview questions prepared for her by then,” he warned with a grin.

  “Oh, I’m sure she’s going to just looooove ya,” Taran breathed sarcastically before climbing into his car and speeding off.

  “Miiiikkkoooo!” Skye called up the stairs.

  He rolled his eyes as he checked his email and continued eating the stew that he had found in the refrigerator. He was really, truly trying not to think about the organ-shaped chunks floating around in that stew. After each spoonful, he took several gulps of water and ate copious amounts of buttered bread. What he would not give for a pizza in that moment.

  Oh yeah... that last bite was definitely heart, he thought in revulsion.

  Belching and rubbing his aching chest, he realized in horror that Tar was not going to have any Gaviscon lying around for the case of acid reflux this meal was sure to give him. And speaking of the S.O.B. that had left him on babysitting duty, it was late afternoon now with no sign of Taran. Miko was praying that Skye’s voice would give out soon. She had been at it for an hour already and the more he tried to ignore her, the louder she became.

  “Miko... come on, man! This is just cruel and unusual!” She whined.

  He huffed to himself in irritation, trying to block her out as he got started on his report for Aiyana and Schrader. His fingers hovered over the keys as he ran it through his mind.