by Dee, Bonnie
Arven was looking at him impatiently. “Well, James? Is Viv’s reaction appropriate? To up and leave without telling me?”
James considered his response carefully. He knew that for Arven, what he couldn’t understand was Viv’s not calling him. To Arven, everything revolved around him. As it should be. “To some people, their home is a part of them. Viv must feel like that. I’m sure she’ll get in touch with you once she’s settled into her new home.” He tried to divert Arven from his disappointment. “Besides, we’re almost ready for the big day. You’re going to be busy.”
Arven’s lips stretched across his teeth into a smile. James shivered. He had learned to distrust that smile. Bad things happened when—He grabbed his head and cried out.
*
Nolen gazed dispassionately as James crumpled to the floor, writhing. James must be experiencing traitorous ideas. Alas, these moments were coming more and more often. Sadly, they confirmed his plans for James. Once he’d fulfilled his assignments, he would need to be eliminated.
In the meantime, it was off to Ireland for him. The vial containing some of the fluichlari would be concealed in a fountain pen. It wouldn’t take much to befoul the spring in Carrigclarseach. And how fitting it would be.
He glanced down. James had quieted. Nolen walked over to his prone body and reached out to him. “Take my hand, dear boy. You need a break.” He assisted him up and drew him close. His hand curved around the young man’s jaw and he leaned toward his ear. “And I need a fuck.”
“Yes, Arven.”
Nolen smiled at James. “A farewell fuck. You leave for Ireland tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? But, I thought we weren’t going over for another week.”
“We won’t be going anywhere. You will fly to Ireland and await my signal. You have everyone ready to proceed in their assignments when notified. There is no need to wait until later this year. In fact…” He took James hand as he continued speaking. “In fact, dear boy, our time together is running out. Let’s spend the rest of this day with each other. What do you say?”
James drew Arven’s hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. “Yes, Arven.”
* * * *
Donegal, Ireland
Dagda’s Cave
“Casey, Eileen, are all our recruits in place?” Dagda watched as the printer spewed out pages with the locations of each of the sacrificial sites and the Terran-measctha assigned to it. As they collected in the holder, Sióg tacked them up to a copy of a world map taped to a large wooden board. Each page was pinned on the map to its appropriate country. Seeing the sheets spread out like that brought home the immensity of Nolen’s plans to the Terrans left in the cave.
“The last of them left earlier this morning,” Eileen said. “Casey and I will be leaving later today.”
“Aye. I’m glad that you gave us a spell to use to wipe the memories of the victims meant for sacrifice, Mach, and gave Gabe the money to send them home with nothing but souvenirs of a holiday.”
“It’s none of their fault that they were chosen.” Mach sighed. “All that work that Macalister did for Nolen—finding the right person to accept Nolen’s false credo of cleansing the world’s waters; or finding the willing thug to kill an innocent person; then finding those people and making them believe they were winners of a free trip, only to kill them upon arrival… Aviva said she feared for James’ sanity should he find out his part. I believe her.”
“Don’t forget Nolen’s imprisonment of the fluichlari,” Sióg said. “Thank the Powers That Be that each of the Terran-mheasctha was given the incantation to send them to their own domain.”
“As soon as they hit the water, they’ll be back in their own world.” To Eileen, freeing the fluichlari equaled the fight for Irish freedom.
“And become our new allies.” Pragmatic as ever, Casey looked upon the tiny blood-devouring demons as potential soldiers in future battles.
Dagda switched off the printer as the last of the pages slipped into the holder. He handed it over to Sióg with a sigh. “Events have moved more quickly the last few days than in the past several months.”
“It’s as if Aviva’s visit set off a starter’s pistol.” Casey checked his Glock pistol and grinned at his little joke.
“So we’d better get started.” Eileen picked up her small carry-on soft side bag and headed down the narrow opening that led to the outside world.
Casey paused for a moment and spoke softly to Mach. “I know we made our farewells last night, you and I and Eileen, but, Mach, should anything happen to me…” He took a deep breath. “Here and now, stone cold sober and not bespelled by our cothrom foirfe… I love you.”
Mach embraced the younger male. “Our cothrom foirfe is what enabled you to admit your love for me—and your love for Eileen. She adds the female balance to our joining.” He gripped Casey’s shoulders. “Without her, you’d still be floundering in self-doubt and confusion. She is our anchor, Casey, mo fiorghra.”
Casey stepped into Mach’s embrace and clasped his face. “Kiss me, Mach, and I’ll kiss Eileen for you.” They melted into each other’s arms, and as their lips and tongues met, the balance was with them.
Farther out by the Cave entrance, Eileen felt the kiss and her spirit was strengthened.
* * * *
Manhattan, East 92nd Street
“Bingo! One of our agents has caught James boarding a plane heading for Ireland.” Gabe read the email information off to Brigid, Ethan and Aviva. They’d gathered in his study to go over the news from Dagda that the Irish Terrans were getting in place.
Brigid leaned over his shoulder and scanned the rest of the email. “He’s heading to Donegal.” Her nails cut into Gabe’s shoulders. “He can’t be heading to Carrigclarseach, could he?”
“There are ley lines that intersect in Carrigclarseach. It only makes sense for him to use them. Besides, it completes the circle. Although Nolen can’t chance returning, Macalister can serve as his stand-in.” Ethan set down Ceol Mhor. The harp had scarcely left his arms the past few days as he and Aviva composed spells and incantations for the Terran-mheasctha’s use.
Ethan rose and went over to join Gabe and Brigid, placing one hand on her back while he leaned his other hand on the desk. “Aviva, come take a look at Gabe’s extrapolation of the different rooms in the mansion. Tell us what might be different from the blueprint.”
Aviva accepted Brigid’s invitation with alacrity. It felt good to be part of a group, even though she couldn’t be part of their balance, their tah’um. If she made it through the upcoming battle, she’d make it her goal to find her own tah’um.
* * * *
Carrigclarseach, Ireland
“You’ve come at a lovely time of year, sir. We’re hosting a fundraiser to help with the rebuilding of the town clinic. We’d a terrible fire here not that long ago. There are crafts and plays and lectures. Oh, and music too. All sorts. Even workshops. For a nominal fee. Sponsored by some group called The Caretakers. Seems they go around rebuilding places devastated by natural disasters. Why, they helped put up two hundred houses in America after that hurricane. Aye, you’ll enjoy your stay with us, to be sure.”
James had tuned out the chatter of the innkeeper. He had a mission and he had to keep focused on it. Arven had selected the inn because of its proximity to an ancient well that had grown polluted over the course of many years. James winced. His headaches had grown stronger and more frequent from the moment he’d boarded the plane to Ireland.
At first he thought it was because of the flying, the high altitude. After landing at Shannon he attributed it to jet lag. Now, hours later, after driving on the wrong side of the road down winding, unpaved roads, he knew it must be due to fatigue.
He had to lie down. “Please, the key to my cottage.”
Connelly, the innkeeper, halted in mid sentence. “Aye, here’s your key. There’s a space for your vehicle right outside it. Your fridge is stocked. Enjoy your stay, sir.”
James bar
ely made the three-minute drive to his cottage. The pain had become a continuous drumroll in his head. He fumbled for the car door handle and, unable to stand any longer, fell to the ground, his hand clinging to the half-open driver’s door.
He closed his eyes and let go, sinking the final few feet, giving himself over to oblivion.
* * * *
“Let me help you.”
A velvety-toned male voice spoke quietly near his ear. James kept his eyes closed as he felt two powerful arms draw him to his feet. A slightly calloused palm brushed his hair from his eyes. He stubbornly kept them closed. A strong shoulder insinuated itself under his own, and he bumped his hip as he was half-carried toward what he assumed might be his cottage. Or not.
“Open your eyes, damn it! I need you to stand on your own while I unlock your door.”
Reluctantly, James unshuttered his eyes, clung to the doorframe of the cottage, and took a look as his savior. His head stopped hurting. A tall man dressed in an Aran sweater and indigo jeans, his long, black hair pulled back into a ponytail, stood jiggling his key into the old-fashioned lock. “Who are you?”
“Mach Keegan. And you are?”
“Macalister, James.”
“Well, Macalister James, you’re welcome for the hoisting of your body, and I’d advise you to stay inside and sleep it off.”
James struggled to remain upright, fueled by righteous indignation and the destruction of his pride. “Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get inside and collapse.”
Mach cursed under his breath and carried him inside to the small bedroom. He laid him down and slipped off his loafers. “That’s it. I bloody well call it a limit to the shoes.”
James laughed and finally opened his eyes all the way. “Thank you. I mean it. Just lying down like this, I feel better.”
“Migraines.”
James continued looking up at the handsome Irishman who had rescued him. “I don’t know. I’ve never had them before.”
Mach shifted onto the bed, his thigh brushing against James. Somehow, with Mach nearby, the pain had diminished. James watched as a frown settled on Mach’s face.
“Sometimes stress can bring on migraines. Anything new and stressful in your life?”
Slowly, still not secure with the movement, James nodded. The frown changed to a smile and James felt a flutter in his heart.
“That’s it then. Now, listen, fellow me lad, get some rest and I’ll come get you at seven o’clock.” He grinned. “We’ll try out Connelly’s dining room and the pub for a bit of a singsong. Nay, don’t laugh. Music has a way of purging all your problems. I should know. I’m a musicologist. I’m in Carrigclarseach to offer a workshop on—wait for it now—the influence of Gaelic folk music in modern Irish pop music. Quite a mouthful, eh?”
“You’re a musician?”
“Aye.”
“I love music. I play piano.”
“Excellent! So for sure we’ll go off to the pub after dinner.”
Mach stood and James grabbed his hand. “Don’t leave me.”
Mach looked down at James’s hand gripping his. He shook his head. “Rest, my friend. I’ll see you at seven.” He slipped his hand from James’ and left the room.
James closed his eyes as the pounding faded and he fell asleep.
* * * *
Dagda’s Cave
“He’s so confused, Dagda. I’ve never seen a spirit so tampered with. His aura is so sickly…”
Mach had flashed to the cave to report on Macalister to Dagda and Sióg. He hadn’t stopped drumming his fingers on the ancient wooden table since, except to pound it when his frustration level reached a new high, which was about every five seconds—every time he thought of Nolen and what he’d done to James.
“We’ll heal him, Machnamh. You and I together, I promise.” Sióg’s soothing voice did nothing to calm him.
“While he was asleep I returned and went through his luggage. The fluichlari were concealed in a fountain pen. I’ve already released them into Brigid’s Well and told them what’s going on. They’ll report to the fluichlari mhor and confirm our determination to free all the water demons trapped by Nolen. I replaced the water in his pen with plain water.”
Sióg chuckled as Mach gnashed his teeth. She had never seen her fellow Spirit Keeper this rattled when they were in their domain below. Since his stay above, his emotions had been released and his passion had multiplied tenfold.
It was exhilarating to be around him … and the other Terrans. Now she knew why Mach had been so forceful in presenting his arguments to the other Spirit Keepers. For the first time in decades she felt fully alive. Her eyes shifted toward Dagda. She had been wooing him subtly since they met, but she’d had enough of hints.
Sióg wanted him and knew their joining would ease his loneliness and feed her hunger for desire. “You must go back to the cottage you rented and prepare it for your wooing of the human,” Sióg reminded Mach. “Wake him early. Show him how eager you are to be with him. It will be the first step in healing him if he knows that someone else desires him for nothing else than being with him.”
“I agree, Mach. Keep him occupied. Perhaps he’ll shift his allegiance to you.”
“I know you still consider James an enemy, but you have no idea how strong Nolen’s Speaker control is over him. I understand, but I’m not happy about using James.”
Dagda took in the Spirit Keeper’s demeanor and sighed. “I know we sound callous, Mach, but we must consider that James is under Nolen’s thumb. If you can break or weaken that bond, more power to you.”
Mach laughed. “Only you could mix human metaphors so much and still make sense. I’ll see what I can do with James.”
* * * *
“It’s a sure guarantee that some hour we’ll be free, thank God we’re surrounded by water.”
Mach’s voice joined James’ in the rousing chorus of The Sea Around Us. The evening had gone well. Although he’d arrived early, he decided not to lure James into his bed. Instead, they strolled the charming, though fire-damaged streets of Carrigclarseach, checked out the crafts and food, and chatted with the people.
Mach watched as the lines in James’ face eased and his posture straightened. His laughter rang clear and Mach smiled as James’ true nature was revealed layer by layer. They’d grabbed a meal at Connelly’s so they could sit down and relax and chat.
James shared much of his life with Mach, but always changed the subject when it came to his life with Nolen, whom James knew as Arven Lowery. Finally, hunger sated, they’d sauntered over to O’Neill’s Pub where the evening’s entertainment was to be held.
From the moment James heard the music, he lit up. He joined in every chorus and was coaxed to improvise on an old tune by Planxty on the upright piano. Mach’s spirit rejoiced to hear him. It was if James had been released from jail.
Once more he assisted James to his cottage, though this time for a more obvious reason. The man was stinking drunk.
“Stay with me, Mach. I know you like me. Please stay with me.”
James’s slurred plea struck Mach’s heart, and he knew he had to agree. He nodded and followed James into the bedroom.
James sat down on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands. “I am so screwed up. I’ve fucked my life up so much. Christ, if you knew what I’ve done…”
Mach knew James was drunk or he wouldn’t be talking like that. All Mach needed now was his special talent to get James to reveal all his secrets. He hunkered down by James’ knees and took his hands from his head. He concentrated and unleashed James’ secrets.
“Look at me, James. You can tell me anything. I won’t judge you or tell them to anyone who could harm you.” He touched James’ cheek and the floodgates opened.
Everything they had learned about James was confirmed. What was more frightening was his unwitting forced compliance with Nolen’s plans.
Finally, James’ voice, hoarse from speaking so much, was silent. He lay on
the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Mach, do you hate me?”
Mach stretched out on top of the duvet and gathered James into his arms. He placed a soft kiss on top of James’ curly hair and hugged him. “I don’t hate you. You were forced into doing what you did when confronted by your co-worker, and his death was an accident. As for your reason to be here…” He paused, knowing he couldn’t tell James anything about what really was going on. “You’ll have to decide for yourself if this man’s plans make sense.” Mach touched James’ spirit and drew his confession from his memory. It was all he could do for him now.
He settled deeper into the pillows and closed his eyes. James wasn’t due to release the fluichlari until the day after tomorrow. He hoped James would be able to withstand Nolen’s commands. If not, he’d have to make sure he didn’t do anything rash when Nolen was defeated.
* * * *
Boynton, New York
“Is everything going as planned, Arven? Are your men in place?”
“People, Lorraine. Both men and women have been recruited for the cause.” Nolen eyed the bitch’s blood-covered body. Lying on the floor next to Lorraine’s bed was the body of the guard from the estate’s gates.
Lorraine had grown desperate for some more intense play, and without James available as her regular whipping boy, she’d begged him to allow her to leave the manor for her club in the city or get her a substitute submissive.
With the great day arriving shortly, he couldn’t chance anything happening to Lorraine. He’d summoned the guard and watched dispassionately as she’d fucked him and killed him. Soon, he’d do the same to her.
“So James actually came through? The world’s water supply will be safe for humanity?” She rose and stepped over the corpse lying at her feet without a downward glance. “I still wish you’d agree to let me watch one of the sacrifices. I’ve never seen someone actually willing to die for a cause.” She paused and turned to look at him. “Of course, I’d do anything for you, Arven. Anything.” The door shut quietly behind her as she entered her bathroom.
Would she really do anything for him? He thought she might. In her own twisted way she worshipped him. He gave her everything her depraved mind craved. Almost.
