The Legends That Remain

by Cecilia Randell

  He took a sip of the beer and his brows rose. “This is good. Really good.”

  She crossed her arms again. “Of course.”

  “I’m Daniel, by the way. Daniel Corous. I’m here to research some old tales, kind of do a tour of the county.”

  “Well, then you have definitely come to the right place for old tales. Just be polite in your asking, Daniel Corous, or I will have to ask you to leave.”

  He smiled at that, and it transformed his face from tired and plain to strangely attractive. “And what would you do if I refused?” The tone was playful, flirtatious.

  Old Mike chose that moment to see what the human was up to. “Goddess, are you all right?” He’d risen from his seat and traveled to their end of the bar, his own beer in hand.

  “Mike, I told you not to call me that.” She grinned. “But, I’d like you to meet Daniel Corous. He’s here looking for old stories. Says he is going to tour the area. You might be able to help him with that.”

  The wisp pulled out the stool on Daniel’s right. “Ya don’t say.”

  “I’ll check on the stew. If it’s not ready, I’ll get a sandwich started for you,” she said to Daniel and shot Mike a grin. “Play nicely now.”

  “I will,” they said together. Daniel’s tone was sincere, while the wisp’s was anything but.

  She shook her head and, after a quick scan to be sure none of the other patrons needed anything from her, made her way toward the kitchen.

  “You haven’t told her about the Fomoiri?” Finn asked. The four not-men stood gathered around the wood topped island in the middle of the kitchen, their large frames dwarfing the small piece of furniture.

  Chapter Two

  Dear Bastet,

  I really do hate secrets. And my not-men, they were keeping them from me! I am so mad right now. It is not that they lied, exactly, but… but, they lied!

  - Bat, one who is thinking of coming home

  p.s. – Not really.

  BAT

  Bat drew away from the door opening. What about the Fomoiri? She knew there were tensions between the brothers and the rest of their particular kind of immortal. It was clear from Shar’s reactions every time they or the mysterious brooch were mentioned, or the severity of Dub’s frown when the clan gathering was discussed. Of course there were secrets she didn’t know—she still had much to learn of this land and its history, and the brothers—but it seemed Finn thought she should know whatever this was…

  “No,” Dub replied, a clenched fist pressed to the island counter. “And we will not. This is not something she needs to be involved in. It’s our business, and I will not allow it to touch her. We promised her a refuge, and our protection.”

  Finn bowed his head and took a breath, letting it out slowly, his own hands curled into fists. He straightened and locked his gaze on Dub. “I think that is something she should be allowed to decide for herself.”

  Bat’s eyes narrowed as Finn’s words echoed in her mind. They were similar to the words Dub had once offered her: just what you care to give. The gift of choice. Something Dub had once given her, and now, with his words of pseudo-protection, took away.

  Her hands trembled as a mixture of anger, remorse and longing swept over her. Had she been fooling herself that this place was a home, that they were a sort of family? How could it be, if the brothers didn’t trust her to handle the things that touched them, that affected them? Didn’t they know she would do whatever was needed to ensure their future? Didn’t they know she considered them hers?

  Was she really so diminished in their eyes?

  I have already allowed the distance. That cursed distance, which crept in over the last weeks. That insidious distance, which… she had only moments ago been determined to maintain. Trembling hands curled into fists. Maybe she couldn’t form a sexual relationship with the brothers, but she still cared for them. And they cared for her. They had to.

  They had to.

  Flickers of a memory she didn’t want to examine danced along the edges of her mind. There was another time she had had people she considered hers. Claws of loss attempted to dig into her heart, to shed the blood of her soul, as the image of a broad back filled her vision. It was not a proper vision, simply the echoes of a long past pain.

  She wouldn’t do that again. She would not stand still as those she cared about stepped away. She would not do that to herself again.

  And Finn was correct. Whether to get involved was something she should be allowed to decide. Granting the brothers their privacy and past secrets… well, that was their right. But if those secrets were coming into the present, shouldn’t she know them? If she was to truly have a life here, in this pub, with these people, she needed to make her place. Right?

  All of this flew through her mind in fractions of a second, in a blink of time. The four men still stood at the island, their attention on the center of the island. They hadn’t noticed her yet. Despite her renewed determination and resolve, a hollow sensation lingered. She stepped into the kitchen, her feet silent.

  They do not trust me. The thought crept up on her, snaking past her barriers. Mell’s head twisted sharply, the chocolate of his gaze landing on her with a mix of guilt, sorrow and longing. An answering yearning built in her, and it wasn’t as easy to push down as before. She took another step forward.

  “We are not dragging her int—” Shar broke off as Mell gave a cutting motion with his hand then flicked a finger at her.

  Dub’s fist pressed into the wood and the crack that he’d made in the island top after Dano was killed spread. Shar’s single eye widened as she approached, and Mell crossed his arms, looking away. The only one who didn’t react was Finn.

  Pushing aside the confusion of her emotions once more, she focused on the now. What exactly was going on? She crossed her arms and stared at Mell, waiting for an explanation.

  Dub shifted, drawing her attention and revealing the center of the island. Resting there was a card, the stock thick, with scrolling gold leaf twining into a familiar mark. A stylized crane decorated the front of the paper, matching a tattoo that each brother bore on his shoulder.

  Flash. A hand clutched around a gold brooch, the pattern matching the symbol on the card. Blood coated one side.

  “Goddess?” Finn’s face appeared before her, his hands gripping her upper arms. “Are you all right?”

  A large arm wrapped around her from behind and pulled her against a hard chest. “I told ya, we’re not letting her anywhere near them,” Shar said from behind her.

  My protective giant. It was sweet, infuriating, and oh so unnecessary. Tension uncurled within her. She needed this contact. She leaned back, just enough to feel the solid muscles of his chest. Warmth crept through her, though it was not quite enough to fill that hollow place inside her.

  Finn released her arms and stepped back, one brow raised. Dub looked from her to the invitation, then back to her. “What did you see?” His tone was flat, the words tight.

  She clutched her necklace through her lightweight sweater. “A golden brooch, and blood.” Drawing in a breath, she gathered herself and straightened away from Shar. “What, exactly, is going on?”

  A barrier slammed down, cutting her off from the vague tendrils of emotion Mell had been putting out. She gasped and glared at the middle brother over Finn’s shoulder. That was definitely not the vague, subtle shield she’d been sensing. He shrugged, the movement tight, but didn’t lower his gaze or the barrier.

  Flash. Deep brown eyes in a young, and bruised, face. Blood dripping from a cut mouth. He stood on a plank wood deck that rocked with the motion of the waves. Behind him stood a woman with golden hair and green eyes, her gown a fine midnight wool. She stood blank-faced and made no move to comfort the child.

  The vision cleared and she once more stared at Mell, the grown version of that boy. She attempted to erase the growing horror and sorrow the vision had brought from her mind, knowing he would sense it from her anyway. He wouldn’t know exactl
y what she saw, but he would surely be able to guess from her reaction that it was not something he’d want known. She gave him a slight nod, telling him she would not share this one unless he wanted her to.

  He gifted her with a crooked grin and shrugged again, but the movement was easier.

  “She’s already involved.” Finn, who had stepped to the side at some point, pointed out. “If she’s having the visions, she’s entangled, and you’re not going to be able to keep her out.” His lips ticked up. “You O’Loinsighs really do need to learn a little more about goddesses.”

  Bat gifted him with a smile and nodded. “It is true. I do not have random visions, as you know. They may be a little hard to sort sometimes, but they are not without purpose.” She allowed her gaze to settle on each brother in turn, even twisting to take in Shar, who still stood behind her. “Now, what is going on?” She would get that question answered.

  Dub frowned, resigned, and opened his mouth to reply. Before he could speak, Ailis came rushing in from the pub’s common area.

  “Bat, ya need to get out there,” she said, her green hair mussed and eyes wide.

  Bat had never seen the fae in such a state, and was effectively distracted. “Is it the tourist? Is he asking for his sandwich? Wait—is the stew ready?” She looked at the timer set beside a large pot on the stovetop. No, at least an hour left. Bat turned back to Ailis. “Can you explain I’ve been delayed? Or, better, could you make him someth—”

  Ailis shook her head, sending tendrils of green flying. “It’s not a tourist. Well, not really. I think—” She swallowed. “I think a bomen just walked in. The glamour’s thick, it’s hard to tell, but he’s chattering away in the old tongue, asking for ya, and he’s scaring the others. An agitated bomen is no’ a good thing to be having on your hands, or anywhere near anyone.”

  There was a scratching scramble at the back door, and the familiar sound of Killer’s puppy growl filtered through the wood. The brothers must have put him out to get some fresh air.

  Ailis’s head twisted in that direction. “Ye’re going to want to hold onto that one, but I wouldn’t leave him outside, he’ll end up tearing the door down,” she said.

  The men stood frozen for another second, then they were in motion. Shar hooked his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him once again, Dub and Finn headed for the common room, and Mell went for the fridge. Shar steered her to the door.

  The scratching increased on the other side of the door, and a slight whine was added to the growl. “Killer, baby, it’ll be okay,” Bat said through the door. “I’m a goddess remember? The bomen thing won’t kill me.” Though it would be nice if she knew what a bomen was.

  The growl left her puppy’s voice, but the whine remained. Shar opened the door and Killer barreled into Bat, nearly knocking her from her feet. The pup twisted, trying to get to the doorway and the pub beyond. Shar caught the back of the harness as Bat hung onto his middle.

  “Hush. No attacking unless we say so, remember?” Bat kept her tone even and firm. Killer paused and looked back at her, though he still leaned toward the doorway. “That’s right,” she continued. “You have to wait to attack.”

  Shar snorted. “You keep saying that, you’ll give the poor boy hope.”

  “Someone’s got to have some,” she muttered.

  “Do I want to know what you mean by that?”

  Bat’s hand itched to leave Killer and clasp her necklace, but her baby was still nervous. The pup could bolt, despite his training. “I have no idea,” she said. Then, lower, “There’s a lot going unsaid recently.”

  “I’ve got the milk,” Mell said from behind them. “We better get out there and see what’s going on.”

  Killer’s whines faded away as Bat scratched just behind his ears. “Milk?” she asked, eyeing the shallow bowl Mell held.

  He shrugged. “Don’t know much about the bomen, but tales say they like milk. Better safe than sorry.”

  “How do you not know about these bomen? Aren’t they another immortal? A not-man?” Bat handed Killer’s leash to Shar and stood. She had a feeling she’d need her hands free.

  “They’re more sluagh than fae,” Finn said from the doorway. “We need you out here, goddess. He’s refusing to move until he is able to speak with you, and the humans are getting too curious for my liking.” He paused. “Please.”

  She took a step forward then stopped. “Will he harm the others? The patrons?” Technically, because of the Morrigan’s restrictions, they weren’t her worshipers to protect, but they were still hers in a way—and many of them were her friends. There was an aspect to that kind of offering which was much more powerful than the more traditional rituals. She was nowhere near as strong as she’d been in her prime, but in a mere couple of months she’d gained enough power to not exhaust herself with simple actions or scans. She was able to put more into her songs, and her visions—when they came—were stronger and clearer.

  “We’ve got him over by the hearth.” Finn avoided answering her question and gave a curt gesture for her to follow him. He was out of uniform, but he was definitely in guardi-mode at the moment.

  Bat braced herself. From the hints and the vague way the other immortals spoke of the sluagh, and now the bomen, she wasn’t sure what to expect. Maybe something from one of those horror movies Mell enjoyed, with slavering jaws and too many teeth. And tentacles. She shuddered. I hope there are no tentacles.

  She stepped into the pub, Finn and Shar right behind her, the larger brother with a tight grip on Killer’s leash. The patrons were strangely quiet. I suppose, if there is a rare creature in their midst, the silence is not so strange. She scanned the room, but didn’t spot anything out of the ordinary, and there were certainly no tentacles.

  Heaving a sigh of relief, she approached the hearth, still looking for their visitor. There was a child standing near Dub. The Fomoiri stood with arms crossed, partially blocking the small figure. Had someone brought…

  Light shifted and the child’s features changed. The freckled cheeks became a gnarled and pocked brown, with a trace of fur over the brow. The gray eyes grew and changed to bright red. Thin shoulders widened and the arms lengthened. The nose and jaw pushed out until they more resembled a muzzle, and the fingers… well, there was the horror movie aspect. There were more knuckles there than the more human immortals had, and the tips now sported razor claws that flicked in time to some music only the creature could hear. The image of the child still overlaid the true form, but it was thin, like a nighttime shadow that couldn’t quite disguise the fearsome thing lurking in the corner.

  She tilted her head, studying it. Killer strained against Shar grip on his short leash, trying to get in front of her, and she put a hand down to rest on his head, attempting to calm him. The bomen’s fingers stilled as its gaze landed on her, and then it smiled, revealing needle teeth. It held its arms out to her and chittered, using words that were both familiar and not…

  She gasped and then returned its smile. Killer looked up at her and cocked his head. Instinctively she knelt, nearly forgetting all those around her, and extended her arms in invitation. The bomen rushed to her, wrapping its too long arms around her and holding tight, all the while spitting out words that were a strange mix of ancient Egyptian flavored with Irish. “Easy,” she said in her native language. “Easy. How have you come to be here, so far from home?”

  It was a logical assumption. The bomen was a curious blend of the aapi that Thoth once used as messengers, and Seth’s animal—the animal she had never seen, though men drew it. Add in the fact it spoke some form of Egyptian, and it was not so far of a stretch…

  But that meant these bomen, these hidden creatures, had once travelled here from her old home. And that meant they had been here longer than she’d been in existence. Seth would have known, as would Isis and Horus. Bastet would have known…

  Anger stirred at that last. Bastet had helped her plan her trip, had known just where Bat was planning to go. She should
have been told of these bomen. What other secrets did this land hold? What other things had the older gods kept from her?

  Another thought occurred to her and her arms stiffened around the creature. Had the brothers known the truth of these bomen? A quick peek at Mell’s stunned face told her no. This at least had not been one of the secrets they were keeping. Some of the anger bled away.

  The creature finally pulled away from her. Killer thrust his head into the bomen’s face, sniffing. It frowned and pushed the pup away, and Bat laughed.

  “Is she his mom? I thought the kid was lost?”

  The low words, spoken by the tourist, pulled Bat’s attention back to the patrons and customers in the pub. They had an audience. Dub stood over her, arms crossed, and scowled at the immortals and humans alike. Mell hovered beside him, the bowl of milk cradled in his hands. Finn and Ailis were doing their best to keep their expressions neutral, but were definitely failing. The rest of the patrons were a mixture of wide eyes, pinched mouths and hunched shoulders.

  Caw.

  Everyone jerked, even the bomen. A large raven stood in the doorway from the kitchen, partially mantled. It hopped forward a couple of feet and opened its beak again.

  Caw.

  A new figure stepped into the pub from behind the raven. He was large, at least as tall as Shar and nearly as wide. The blond of his beard contrasted sharply with the dark cloth of his guardi uniform, and afternoon light gleamed off his bald head.

  “Did ya know ya left the back door open?” The newcomer’s voice wound through the room in a surprisingly mellow tenor.

  Is there not a saying about threes? What was happening to her simple little slice of life?

  Chapter Three

  Dear Bastet,

  I am so mad at you right now. Did you know?