Broken Heart Tails (15 page)

“It’s getting colder,” said Crevan. Indeed, he could see his breath puffing out and at their feet, a mist swirled, covering him to his knees. He could no longer see the path, so he fixed his gaze on Aindriú’s back. “How soon until we are free of this wretched forest?”

“We are nearly through it,” said Aindriú. “We should reach the base of the hillside by dark. We’ll encamp there, and tomorrow morn, we’ll enter the caverns and find the troll who stole your sister.”

Crevan focused on rescuing his sister, and soon, he felt less fearful. She was worth the harrowing journey, and she had already suffered more greatly than he.

Then he heard a loud, horrible moan, and his heart nearly slammed out of his chest. He stopped, and swiveled to look where he’d heard the wailing.

“Keep moving!” yelled Aindriú. He whirled, sword drawn, and with his free hand tried to grab the terrified boy.

It was too late.

Crevan’s fear had awakened the shades of Gan Eagla, and one particularly bold and nasty spirit had reached through its forest prison and grabbed the quaking lad. Crevan was yanked off the path and into the dark recesses of the haunted forest. Cursing, Aindriú plowed through the bramble. He only hoped he reached the lad in time.

Aindriú sheathed his sword because no blade could rend asunder a spirit. Bah! No spirit should be able to clutch at the flesh of a living being—and yet, one had taken Crevan. Aindriú pondered this riddle no further as he followed the path left by the terrible, thievin’ creature. He had to get to the boy before the Gan Eagla’s ghosts feasted on Crevan’s fears, and left him nothing but a rotting shell.

The warrior had seen such things before—shades that drifted along the battlefields drinking from the fear, the regret, the shame of those dying. He would not allow the same horror to befall his young friend.

Soon, he came to a glade. Slivers of sunlight pierced the murky dark created by the intertwined limbs of ancient trees, and in the middle of the circular field stood a woman. At her feet was Crevan, unconscious, but breathing. Aindriú stayed at the edge of the clearing, assessing the situation before deciding how to proceed.

The woman was magnificent.

Red hair flowed down her back like rippling fire, her skin looked like cream dotted with cinnamon, and her eyes were as green as river moss. She was taller than most women he’d known, and she had the kind of abundant curves that made a man forget himself. She held a tree branch in her hands, as upright and steady any swordsman, the expression on her beautiful face as fierce as his own when he engaged an enemy.

Beyond her was the nasty shade that had stolen Crevan. And beyond it, a gathering of other dark spirits. The wind carried their low cries.

Hungry,
they said,
so hungry. Feed us. Feed us the boy.

“You can’t have me,” screamed the woman. “And you can’t have ’im. Wasn’t killin’ you enough, you big, dumb bastard?”

The spirit hissed at her, but it stayed back, waiting. Aindriú realized even the small amount of light that sprinkled the woman and Crevan was too much for the spirits.

They had to wait for full darkness.

“C’mon,” he yelled. “If we run, we can get out o’ here before the sun sets.”

“Who the bloody hell are you?” she asked without looking away from the spirit. She gripped the limb and steadied her stance.

“Aindriú. That boy you’re protecting is mine.”

“The hell he is. Crevan’s me brother. He’s nothing to you.”

So this was the boy’s sister. Somehow, she had escaped the troll—and no doubt gotten lost in Gan Eagla on the way back home. She’d stopped the spirit from taking her brother, so maybe she hadn’t been lost at all. Maybe she’d been tracking them, or the enemy from whom she’d escaped. She had courage, sure enough.

“Crevan and I were on our way to rescue you,” he said. “We must go now if we hope to make it out of this place before dark.”

“Fine then. Get me brother.”

Aindriú ran into the glade and scooped Crevan into his arms. He waited for the woman to drop the branch, then she hitched up her skirts, revealing trim legs and bare feet. Then she turned and hurried toward the path he’d just exited.

They ran as fast as they could, batting away small limbs and ignoring the rocks strewn on the path. The chill of the spirits swirled in the shadows.

They reached the main path as the sunshine faded from overhead.

“Move that thick hide o’ yours,” screamed the woman. “Run!”

Aindriú followed her. He could feel the claws of the dead ones reaching out, scraping skin, pulling hair.

Then he saw the woman burst through the edge of the dreaded forest, and seconds later, he was through the notch himself.

They kept going until there was a fair distance between them and Gan Eagla.

“Some rescue,” she panted. “Seems I did more savin’ than you.”

“Seems so,” said Aindriú.

“Name’s Corrine,” she said. “I’ll take care o’ me brother now, warrior.”

While Corrine tended to Crevan, Aindriú hunted rabbits then he gathered roots and herbs for a stew. After everyone was fed and Crevan had fallen back to sleep, Aindriú sat next Corrine by the dying fire. They lay shoulder to shoulder on the soft grass and stared up at the starlit night.

“Crevan says you’re the most famous warrior in Eire. You like wieldin’ that sword?”

Truth was, Aindriú liked the sword just fine, it was killin’ that grieved him most.

He explained to Corrine how he felt he had to honor the gods by using the gifts given to him. Their blessings had made him a warrior.

“Maybe you have a gift for other things,” she said. She rolled onto her side and looked down at him.

Aindriú’s heart turned over in his chest. She was so beautiful, both now as she stared him with so tender an expression, and more so when she looked fierce, protective. She leaned down and brushed her lips over his.

He took the invitation, cupping the back of her neck and deepening their kiss. After a moment, she pulled back and smiled. “Seems you do have other gifts.”

“I don’t want to war again,” he admitted. “I’m tired of the dead

and the dying.” He brushed her hair back from her alabaster cheek. “I want life. I want love.”

“Well, now,” she said, her fingers dipping into his shirt. “Let’s start with one, and then we’ll get to the other.”

And that’s the beginning of how the warrior Aindriú was tamed by the maiden, and his beloved, Corrine.

Q & A with Broken Heart Parakind

What are some of the bigger scientific discoveries or issues that the Consortium has worked on--have they always had people like Stan working with them?

Patrick O’Halloran (co-founder of the Consortium):
A lot of our research has been funneled into the human world to advance technology and medicine. We work with a lot of humans, but most of them are unaware of our true natures. We also have relationships with humans "in the know" about us and who act as liaisons between the human world and our parakind companies. And yes, we've been lucky to work with a number of well known and brilliant scientists over the years, including Dr. Michaels. Since we insist on confidentiality agreements, I can't name names. However, I'll give you one hint: The fellow who came up with E = mc2 was a personal friend. :-)

Patsy, what is the best part about being queen and what is the most annoying thing that Lorcan has done?

Patsy:
Being queen is freaking work. I always feel like a one-legged woman in a butt-kicking contest. I'm so glad I have Gabriel and the council and my friends to help me, but it's work. It's tiresome. There are days I want to fly to Italy and knock those Vedere psychics upside their heads. But duty is duty, and I'll abide by mine. 

Lorcan isn't annoying at all. He's an ancient nerd, so I don't much worry about him. Jessica ... now, there's a woman I'd like to throttle from time to time. She's got the whole town on a Rock Band kick, and that bitch is better than me on the drums. Don't you worry, though, I'll whoop her yet. 

I love Gabriel, I do. But you ever see a dog having a dream? You know how they pump their legs and sorta bark or growl? Well, imagine a grown-ass man doing that on a regular basis. He's knocked me outta a bed a couple of times. 
 

How does Gabriel feel with Patsy "running" things and does he ever feel a bit left out?

Gabriel:
I never feel left out. Patsy talks to me about everything, and we are equal partners in our marriage and our parenting. I find these worries about my tender male feelings very interesting. Would anyone question Patsy about how she would feel about me being me a king and her the consort? Love evens the playing fields in all arenas. I am proud of my wife, and proud to be next to her side. 
 

Patsy, how do you juggle the responsibilities of parenthood and matriarchy?

Juggling is the right word, sister. I have a lot of help. And my priority is always my family. Since I consider Broken Heart citizens part of my family, that helps. 
Gabriel, do you ever feel overshadowed by Patsy's position? Who wears the pants in your household when no one else is looking? And how do you argue with your queen?

Gabriel:
Never. I had accepted that Patsy would be a ruler long before she did. She is my heart. I would say we both "wear the pants." :-) We argue ... um, loudly. Patsy is a passionate woman. 
Patsy, even though it wasn't really Gabriel that you stabbed in
Cross Your Heart
do you have any nightmares about turning on the man you love?

Patsy:
Jesus. Bring up a sucky memory, why don't you! Since I was really stabbing that asshole demon-ghost-thing, no, I don't have nightmares. I just wished I'd ended that shit right then and there. I'm more embarrassed about being glamoured and taken for a damned fool. So much for being Queen of the Undead Universe an' all!

Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you were never Turned?

The general response:
Boring.
Jessica:
Sunlight is overrated. 

 
Vampire spouses, do you think you would have Turned your mates if they were not already Turned?

The general response:
Only if my wife/husband wanted to be a vampire. Love is about compromise. :-)

Eva, Is there a book that inspired your love of reading? Or a specific author? How about Tamara, does she have a favorite author or an author that inspired her to love reading. Lorcan, I’m curious if you have a favorite author or book as well, since you have lived so long I’m sure you have read a lot.

Eva:
I love to read across a broad spectrum of genres. One novel that I truly enjoyed EAT, PRAY, LOVE by Elizabeth Gilbert. I'm also a huge fan of Charlaine Harris and Neil Gaiman.

Tamara: I
love to read, and even though I've been busy lately stalking and fighting evil, I still find time to pick up a book. The last one I read was FOOL by Christopher Moore. I love Moore, and FOOL was made of awesome.

Lorcan:
Well, I liked Thucydides' 
History of the Peloponnesian War
. :-) I do read a lot, especially when I'm doing research for my own work, such as compiling the known history of the vampires. 
 

Lorcan, did you write your history/stories with the intent that they be shared or were they your way of marking time? I imagine that a vampire/human brain can only hold so many memories and then they start to become cloudy. So then, did the stories keep the memories fresh for you?
Writing wasn't one my culture's strengths, but even before I learned how to write, I was keepin' the stories. My memory was the only vessel I had for keepin' track of it all.  Eventually I learned to write, in a language none use today, but I learned Greek then Latin. I wanted to keep the history of the vampires, though as you know, my father isn't always forthcomin' about those early days. No one was more surprised than I to learn about Shamhat. Not once did he mention her or that there'd once been eight vampire Families. Live an' learn. So, yes, I suppose I didn't want lose anything to time. And we vampires seem to have nothing but. It was a way to occupy my mind, and give me purpose. Everyone needs a purpose. 

Eva, do you think Tamara and her boyfriend will get married?

Eva:
Give me a heart attack, why don't you! Tamara and Durriken met when she was only fifteen. Honestly, I expected their relationship to fade with time, but I was wrong. Still ... who knows, right?