Ann Gimpel (14 page)

She couldn’t help it. She smiled back and got out of her own clothes. Splashing over to him, she was pleasantly surprised to find that he stood in the middle of truly warm water. “Wow! I’m impressed. Water and fire, eh?”

He inclined his head. To his credit, he didn’t say,
I told you so
.

Warm water really did go much further than cold. It soothed her inflamed tissues, too. He showed her a root that soaped when you crushed it between rocks.

“What is that?” she asked delightedly as she squished slimy goo all over her body in bath temperature water.

“Indian soap root. An older name is Bear Onion.”

She memorized what it looked like so she could find it again. It even did a pretty good job with her hair. Of course, it wasn’t all that dirty, since she’d just washed it the day before. She had a feeling soap root would manage the oils better than sand, though. Aislinn fingered the gash down the side of her face. It still hurt, and it would leave a hell of a scar.

Thoroughly clean, they lay naked on rocks warmed by a combination of magic and the sun. It was temperate for so late in the year, and she luxuriated in not being swathed in layers of clothing. Fionn used his shirt for a gathering basket and brought them wild blackberries that had dried on their vines. She popped one after another of the tiny black globes into her mouth, enjoying the combination of sweet and tart. Rune padded over and flopped down beside her, part of a mangled rodent hanging from his mouth. Bella overflew them and then flapped her way to a nearby tree limb. She cawed raucously. Aislinn wondered if it was the avian equivalent of laughter.

“This is the first time I haven’t been scared in…” She hesitated. “Maybe in years.” She bit at her lower lip. “I’m not sure it’s good. I need to be scared so I’m alert.” She glanced around them, half expecting some dark creature—or maybe a human shade—to jump out of the foliage.

“There’s safety in numbers,” Fionn said. “With four of us, it’s not likely something nefarious could slip past.”

Aislinn wasn’t so sure about that, but she held her peace. She didn’t want to ruin what felt like the most perfect day since before her father had been killed. Swiveling so she could look at Fionn, she asked, “Tell me why you can speak Gaelic. Are you from the United Kingdom?”

His face darkened, and she wondered what she’d said wrong. There’d been a time when she could speak German. If anyone had asked her, she’d have told them she learned it in school.

When the silence started to feel uncomfortable, he said, “Let’s just say I was born in the Old Country.” He met her gaze, but his eyes were hooded, as if he didn’t want her to probe. “I’ve been in the States for a very long time, though. My home is here.”

That’s an odd answer. And not quite what I asked about.
“If things are going to work between us,” she said, keeping her voice very quiet, “there has to be absolute truth. I can’t stand by your side in battle, wondering what you’re not telling me.” She took a breath and went on, finally recognizing what was bothering her. “Because that’s it, Fionn. It’s not that what you said wasn’t true. It’s that you left a whole bunch of things out.”

“Did I now?”

Her neck stiffened at the mocking challenge in his voice. “Och aye, and ye did,” she muttered. “Two can play that game. Now talk.”

“I will. But not outside the wards. Are you ready to go in?”

She started pulling on her clothes. “Yes,” she managed through gritted teeth. What was it with this man? He could make her so hot her body was awash in lust so intense that it obliterated everything, and so angry she wanted to choke him. He was the only man she hadn’t been able to walk away from.
Maybe I can. I haven’t tried.

Who am I kidding?

Well, I haven’t tried—not really.
Let’s see what he has to say for himself
.
Then I’ll decide.

Chapter Thirteen

F
ionn tried to make small talk once they were back underground, but Aislinn wasn’t having any of it. The animals retreated to a far corner after she raised her voice the first time. “Talk,” she shouted, pounding a fist into her other hand for emphasis. “Tell me who you are and where you came from.” She made an effort to gentle her voice. Christ, she sounded like a fishwife. “If I’m going to link my life to yours, I have a right to know.”

That must have gotten through, because he said, “Yes, you do. I’m sorry. I’ve been hiding who and what I am from everyone for so long, it’s not easy to stop dissembling.”

Her Seeker senses, attuned to truth, corroborated his statement. At least it was a start. Aislinn pursed her lips. “Did your wife know?”

He shook his head and gave her a lopsided smile. “At least, not the most current one, nor the several who came before her.”

She took a step away from him. “You’re not really Fionn MacCumhaill. You couldn’t be.” Breath clogged in her throat as she waited for his answer. Her heart thudded against her ribcage.

“Yes, I did give you my name.” He spoke as if to himself. “Maybe I made a mistake, but I was wild with fear for what would happen once you delivered yourself to the Old Ones like a trounced pig.”

“You gave me a name,” she clarified, still keeping her distance. “But there’s no way you could possibly be
the
Fionn MacCumhaill.”

“And why not?”

“Because you’d have to be hundreds of years old. Maybe as much as a thousand,” she sputtered. “He was a Celtic god.”

“Do you remember which one?”

Irritation stung her. “What is this? Twenty Questions?”

“Well, do you?” His voice, the American one, was so soft that she had to strain to hear.

“Of course I do. He ruled, ah, wisdom. And overcoming enemies.” She racked her brain, culling her mother’s fairy stories from wherever they lived when she wasn’t thinking about them. “Creation, protection, knowledge, divination.” She put her hands on her hips, feeling pleased with herself. “I think that about covers it.”

“Aye, lass, that it does.” The Irish lilt was back. He smiled at her. Or he showed her his teeth. It didn’t feel much like a smile. Now that she was looking at him, really looking, something ancient and brimming with knowledge lurked behind his blue eyes.

I’m imagining things. It isn’t possible.

“Of course it is.”

“Damn it.” She was so frustrated, she punched him. He didn’t make so much as a
whuff,
but her knuckles stung. “Stay out of my head.”

“As you wish.” He inclined his head.

She brought her fisted hand to her mouth, sucking at the sore parts. “No, it’s not. You can’t be hundreds—maybe thousands—of years old.”

“The others, they told me I’d die if I left the Old Country. They thought the magic wouldn’t stretch so far. But it did—and I didn’t.”

“What others?”

“The other gods, of course.” He chuckled. “The Celts had many gods. Well over a hundred at the apex of our strength. Once I knew everyone’s name, but not anymore.” He looked sad, his eyes pinched at their corners. “Many have faded out of time and memory.”

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
Aislinn slowly crossed the room and sat on one of the cushions piled against a wall. She propped her head on an upraised hand and tried to use her Seeker sense to see into him. Something stopped her, though.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out if you’ve told me the truth.”

He nodded, looking serious. “Try again. I’ve dropped my wards.”

Aislinn slid effortlessly into his mind. She started sifting through his memories. The first one had men—lots of them—on horseback, riding across a heavily forested plain. When she saw their banners, she did a double take.
The Crusades. He has memories of the Crusades. It can’t be. Must be another war.
Fascinated, she figured out which one he was. He didn’t look all that different. Not really. His hair was longer, down to his waist, and he rode a huge, black horse with some sort of armor trappings. It looked like he was a king, or at least a commander, since he rode at the head of a large company.

In the next memory, Fionn was in a squalid cell. Rats ran up and down the walls. Water dripped incessantly. He sat on a raised platform against one wall. When she looked more closely, she realized he was chained. Dirt streaked his bruised face. His head had been shaved.

Shivering, she hunted for a better memory. And found one. This time, he was in a lavishly hung bedchamber. A woman with long red hair done up in intricate braids, and very little else on, rode atop him. Her back was bowed in pleasure. His hands cupped her breasts. Feeling like a voyeur, Aislinn watched their lovemaking until the woman shuddered on top of him. His hands came round to her hips then, shifting her so she faced away from him. Seemingly understanding what he wanted, she ended up on her knees with him behind her. When she raised her face, Aislinn gasped. The woman looked so much like Aislinn herself that she could have been a twin.

She dropped that memory fast, sifting for another. Time passed. Maybe hours. She heard his voice, but thought it was in the memory she held before her now. He was in a vast library, hunched over a leather-bound volume that had to be a foot thick. Monks glided up and down the aisles between bookshelves, chanting. It sounded Gregorian.
Must be the Middle Ages sometime.

“Aislinn.” A brisk shake pulled her back into herself. “I said it is enough. You have been in my mind for hours.”

She felt woozy, as if she’d had too much to drink. She tried to remember all the things she’d seen. One stood out. “Who was the woman who looked like me?”

At first, he looked shocked, then he began to laugh. “Moira. You must mean Moira. I’d nearly forgotten about her.” He cocked his head to one side. “Now that you mention it, the two of you do look a great deal alike.”

She sucked in a breath to steady herself. And then another. Somehow, she thought it was more than that. Maybe some sort of reincarnative thing, but she didn’t have the energy to pursue her line of thought.

“Do you believe me now?” he asked, settling next to her.

She nodded. It wasn’t possible that he could hold all those memories if he hadn’t lived through them. “The Crusades?” she managed. “Did you fight in the Crusades?”

A confused look screwed his features into a question mark. He shook his head. “Those were on the Continent. They started in France and Italy. No, I’ve been in plenty of battles, but I never rode in the Crusades.” He laughed. “I’m a Celt and a god. Why would I want to lay myself on another god’s altar?”

Why indeed?
Now that she thought about it, she understood he’d have had little interest in a Christian war. She described his horse and the banners the men had been carrying.

“Oh aye, I remember now. ’Twas one of the times the Vikings had landed. Pesky souls. Mostly, they simply marched across Ireland. Or sailed around it. But not always. I was truly young then.” He smiled reassuringly.

“When was that, and how old were you?” Her heart beat too fast. Both her trip through his mind and this conversation unhinged her.

He rolled his eyes. “I think that battle was around 1250, maybe 1300. Let’s see. That would have made me about a hundred and fifty, give or take a few years.”

“Wh-What year were you actually born?”

His eyes on her said,
give it a break, woman
, but he finally answered, “Near as I can tell, 1048.”

Aislinn kept breathing. She was afraid that if she didn’t stay on top of things, though, carefully instructing her lungs to inflate, they might not. One thing stuck out in the confusion her mind had become. If he’d really been around all that time, maybe he could help figure out how to send the dark ones back to their worlds. And keep the Lemurians in Taltos.

“I’ve been working on how to do that.”

She rounded on him. “Do. Not. Do. That. Just because you can read my mind, don’t. Unless I give you permission.” She thought about it for a moment and added, “Or if things are truly desperate.”

“Ready to eat something?”

His rapid shift of topics was dizzying, and it pissed her off that he didn’t acknowledge her request for the privacy of her thoughts. When she focused on her midsection, though, it felt hollow. She shot him a wry grin. “More than ready.”

He got up, went to a sideboard, and carried two plates filled with berries and biscuits over to where she sat. Strips of dried meat were laid over the bread.

“When did you do all this?” She broke a biscuit in half and stuffed it into her mouth. “Mmmmm, pine nut flour. I hated it at first, but it grows on you.”

He shrugged. “When you were in my head. It’s not easy, letting someone sort through my thoughts, nor is it anything I’ve allowed before. I never thought you’d stay so long. I needed a diversion, so I made us a meal. Would you like mead to wash everything down?”

Her mouth was full, so she nodded and looked around for Rune and Bella. Before she could ask where they were, he said, “They wanted to hunt, so I opened a passageway for them to leave.”

“Do you suppose they’re all right?”

Resettling himself next to her, he nodded. “Yes, Bella would let me know if she ran into trouble.”

“What about all the stuff you told me before?” she asked.

“What
stuff
?” He cocked an eyebrow, mimicking her tone.

“You know. Stuff that made it sound like you had a normal life with a university teaching job and a wife and two children—” Her eyes widened. “Your children must have had magic. How’d they end up in the vortex?”

“It was all true,” he said carefully. “The children weren’t mine. She had them before we married. And I’m used to making it sound as if I’m
normal
. It’s how I’ve gotten by all these years.”

“What about other children?” Aislinn persisted. “Surely...” Her voice ran down.

“I have been careful about that.”

“Good. Maybe it means I’m not pregnant.”

A corner of his mouth turned down. “You’re not. Conception is a simple enough thing to control.”

She ate in silence, questions rioting—no, make that stampeding—through her head. “What were you doing here all those lifetimes before the dark ones broke through? Uh, no, how about starting with when you came over from Europe.”

“It’s the United Kingdom, not Europe. And that would have been in the late seventeen hundreds. Although I did travel back and forth, once I determined I hadn’t lost my magic by migrating to the New World.”

“So, did you just sort of fade from life to life? Didn’t people notice when you, ah, didn’t die?”

He shot her a look. It said he’d indulge her this once, but there’d be a finite number of stupid questions he’d answer. “Let’s just say I planned well. And I have been many things. It gave me a certain latitude to blend in.”

“Have you ever told anyone else who you are?”

He shook his head. “Not since I arrived here. In the Old Country, everyone knew who I was—at least up until the sixteen hundreds or so. After that, people stopped believing in magic.”

“Why’d you tell me?” She wasn’t certain she wanted to hear the answer.

“Because you are…different.”

She waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I am not sure. There is something…ethereal about you.” He drew in a breath and then blew it out sharply. “I believe you are only at the barest beginnings of discovering who you are. It’s something I’d like to help you with.”

She bristled. “That’s easy. I’m Jacob and Tara Lenear’s only child.”

“And are ye now, lass?”

“Either talk one way or the other,” she snapped peevishly. “Stop going back and forth.”

“You’re frightened,” he said in American English.

“No, I’m not.”

He looked at her, and she saw the truth of his words reflected in the depths of his eyes. He laid a hand over hers. “It is a lot to take in all at once. Why don’t we switch to a more neutral topic?”

“Such as?”

“Orione. Aren’t you curious about the dragon?”

Something clicked deep in her mind. “You’re old. So’s it. Does that mean you know what it is?”

He smiled. This time, it reached his eyes and was way more than simply teeth. “Yes, I know what it is. At least, I think I do from your description.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

The smile morphed into a grin. “I was just waiting for you to ask.” His expression took on a somber hue. “Some knowledge must be requested. I believe Orione is actually Dewi—”

“The Celtic dragon god,” she gasped.

“You know about her?”

Aislinn nodded. “Yes. Mother used to tell me she’d protect me.”

“Turns out your mother was prophetic.” His eyes narrowed. “Did she ever say why the dragon would protect you?”

Aislinn drained the rest of her mead and held the cup out for more. He pulled a flask from a shirt pocket and poured. She tried to remember what her mother had told her, but nothing came. Finally, she shook her head. “No. I mean, yes, she told me some things, but I’m damned if I can remember a one of them.”

“Want to spend some time outside?”

She looked at him. “It’s night, isn’t it?”

“Aye, lass, and there’s a killer moon out there.”

“Maybe we can hunt with the animals.” She got to her feet and rifled through her pack, pulling on warmer clothes. In her hurry, the things she’d pilfered from the fishing lodge spilled onto the floor.

He came up behind her, scooped up a flimsy pair of blue thong panties, and looked at them. “Never would have figured you for the type. You’re more practical than this.”

She quirked a brow. “If you’re very, very nice to me, I may just model them for you.”

He made a grab for her ass. “Something to look forward to.”

His dark blue gaze drew her like a magnet. Somehow, she found her way into his arms. He settled his mouth over hers. Desire flamed bright as she kissed him back.

Before things got out of hand, she put her hands against his chest and pushed. “Outside,” she panted. “Let’s hunt. We can fuck later.”

“Tired of me already?”

She laughed. “No. That’s the problem. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of you.” She clapped a hand over her mouth, thinking she’d said too much.

He grinned. “I would hope not. We’re just getting to know one another. There are lots of things I haven’t done to you—or you to me. For example—”

Because she was afraid he’d start listing them and she’d be lost, she yanked on his arm. “If you don’t set the magic to get us out of here, I will.”

“You’re a hard woman.”

She snorted. “No, the problem is, you’re hard all the time. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Fionn had been right. The moon was nearly full. It shone so brightly, she didn’t need her mage light. What a beautiful night. Cold and crisp, with a million stars lighting the sky. She wondered what it would be like to be hundreds of years old like him. To have seen the stars hundreds of thousands of times.

Rune found her within minutes of her arrival. He licked her hands, nuzzling them. “The hunting is good tonight. Little animals all love the full moon.”

“Have you fed well?” She ruffled the soft fur behind his ears, and he leaned into her.

Bella landed on her shoulder. The bird’s wings made a fluttery sound as she folded them against her body.

“You must really like her.” Fionn smirked. “My shoulders are broader.” He patted one.

“Hers are softer.” Bella smirked right back, staying put.

“Does Bella know?” Aislinn reached for Fionn’s hand.

“Does Bella know what?” the bird asked, her claws tightening on Aislinn’s shoulder.

“Of course.” Fionn ignored the raven. “Bond animals are mind-linked.”

“What?” the bird cawed. Her claws dug in so deep that Aislinn was sure there’d be bruises, if not actual cuts.

“Hey,” she protested. “That hurts.” The raven’s talons relaxed a little. “I was curious what you knew about your bond mate.”