Earth's Hope (17 page)

“What did Odin say?” Fionn asked.

“He wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Nidhogg blew steam.

Aislinn put her hands on her hips. “So what exactly does that mean? If he’s showing up, when will he be here?”

“He’s not coming here,” Nidhogg replied. “He said he’d send forces to one of the borderworlds. If nothing’s happening there, they’ll move to the other one, and he understands the importance of locating Adva.”

“But that means he won’t be able to practice with us at all,” Aislinn noted. Worry prickled down her spine, and she shivered. The gods were high-handed as it was. She’d been worried enough about working with the Celts, beyond the four she was used to. Adding God-knew-how-many Norse deities to the mix felt downright uncomfortable. Never mind if some of the other Celts decided they wanted to play too.

Apparently Fionn shared her reservations because he asked, “Do ye have any idea who will be part of Odin’s elite warrior group?”

“Beyond Odin and Thor, unfortunately no,” Nidhogg replied.

“So you don’t know how many will come, or which borderworld they’ll target,” Aislinn cut in.

“That would be accurate.” Nidhogg rolled his shoulders to the accompaniment of clanking scales. “I understand your misgivings,” he went on, “but Odin was coming anyway. The only difference is that now he knows where we’ll be concentrating our efforts.”

“I don’t like it,” Dewi spoke up. “Kra pitched a fit before, and I guarantee you he’ll like this even less.”

“We all need food,” Fionn said. “Dewi’s idea about coming back together in an hour is a good one. By then, I’m certain Bran will have returned and we’ll have all our data points mapped out.”

“Hammering them into something other than a suicide pact will be a challenge,” Dewi said sourly.

Nidhogg spread a wing and dropped it across her back. “Hunt with me. Fionn’s right about everything looking better over a dead carcass.”

Aislinn muffled a laugh and elbowed Fionn. “Not exactly what you said.”

“It is in dragonspeak,” he muttered. “Come on, lass. Let’s hunt down our own carcass and talk about this.”

She latched a hand around his arm. “Have the Celts and Norse gods ever joined forces before?”

Fionn paused for so long she didn’t think she’d get an answer until he said, “Aye,” in a reluctant tone, as if he had serious second thoughts about giving away even that much.

“Didn’t go well, huh?” She raked her tangled hair back over her shoulders and chalked up a mental reminder to braid it before the next practice session.

“Ye might say that.”

Aislinn stopped dead. Since she was still holding onto Fionn, he ground to a halt too. She walked in front of him and tipped her chin to look him in the eyes. “I am not dredging this out of you piecemeal. Tell me what happened.”

A corner of his mouth twisted downward. “The good news is we always won.”

“And the bad?”

“Ye might guess. They did what they wanted. So did we, and we tried not to fall over one another’s campaigns.”

She pressed her chapped lips together, not liking how they rubbed raw spot over raw spot. “I don’t like the sound of that. For one thing, they’re immortal just like you. This time, there’ll be humans involved—and bond animals—all of whom can die.” She clacked her teeth together, thinking. “No wonder Odin’s not in any rush to join us. He probably has just as many qualms as you about merging efforts.”

Fionn’s gaze skittered away from hers. “’Tis one of the reasons I thought mayhap ye might like—”

“—to stay here,” she finished his sentence. “Not on your life, buddy.”

He closed the short distance between them and folded her into his arms. She tucked her head into the crook between his neck and shoulder and listened to the strong, steady beat of his heart. “We’ll get through this,” she mumbled, her words mostly lost against his body.

“I hope so.” He drew back enough to look at her. “We doona have a choice. If we sit back, they’ll continue to attack from different quarters and try to wear us out. We’ll expend our energy in defending ourselves and never make aught in the way of progress.”

She nodded. It was much the same way she’d felt during the time she’d fought for the Lemurians, like she was treading water and getting tired. She’d been afraid she’d do something stupid—once she wearied enough—and throw her life away because she didn’t have the heart to go on fighting.

Fionn stroked her hair, catching his fingers in tangles that gave way when he pushed magic into them. “Sometimes thinking isna your friend.”

“No kidding. The way I’ve gotten through the hard parts is by just powering forward. If I thought too much or too deeply, I’d probably never have left my cave.”

“Aye, ye’ve told me that afore. If ye’d stayed put, ye’d never have found Rune. Or met me.” He smiled crookedly.

“It’s worse than that.” She swallowed hard to buy herself the courage to go on. “My temper annoys you, but without anger, I’d have folded long ago. Before you and Rune, it was the only thing that kept me going. I’d picture Perrikus and D’Chel murdering my father at that Inca shrine in the Bolivian Andes. If that didn’t work, I could always cull up an image of the Lemurian dragging my mother to her death. Between the two of them, I’d find the wherewithal to soldier forward. Oh yeah, I forgot the Lemurians turning my house into an earthquake zone and making it uninhabitable.” Her eyes burned, but she pushed the tears aside.

“Ye never told me that part.” Fionn’s voice was gentle, and he kept stroking her hair.

“Right after they took Mom, I was standing in the front doorway so filled with despair I almost couldn’t breathe, and there was this huge, cracking noise. I bolted forward and turned to watch the house I’d grown up in crack in multiple places and settle into a ruin. About the only part left was the underground bomb shelter.”

“Yet ye worked for them, even after they robbed you of everything.”

She took a deep, snuffly breath. “At that point I didn’t realize the Lemurians were in league with the dark, so I only blamed them for Mom and the house. But it wouldn’t have made a difference. They dogged me after they killed Mom, and I said no over and over again until they made it abundantly clear one more no would land me right where they’d chucked Mom.”

“Ye wanted to live.”

“I guess I did.” She shut her eyes for a long moment before opening them. “I’m glad our paths crossed. I don’t know what I’d do without you and Rune.”

His crooked smile got a little wider. “We both built a lot of walls, lass. Taking them down, admitting we need one another, isna easy.”

“It would have helped if Mother had told me about you and Dewi.”

“Would it?” He quirked a brow.

The tightness in her chest eased, and she found a smile to send back his way. “Not really. What normal kid finishing high school in Utah would believe her mother was descended from Irish kings and had both a dragon and a Celtic god at her disposal?”

“How would your father have felt about it?” Curiosity lined Fionn’s question.

“He was a very open-minded man, and a scientist at heart. Remember, he spent his life studying the Harmonic Convergence and the surges associated with it. Somehow, I believe he would have taken it in stride. When we saw them in the halls of the dead and Gwydion was there, it was apparent Mom had told Dad about both of you.”

“And he was quick to clasp hands with me.” Fionn nodded, remembering. “Mayhap ye’re right, leannán.” He kissed her forehead. “How about a spot of food? Dewi’s nowhere near done with what she wants to accomplish today.”

“In that case,” Aislinn brushed her lips over his, “we’d better get moving.”

Chapter Fourteen

Nightfall had arrived hours before, but Bran wasn’t back yet. Fionn considered going after him more than once, but Dewi made it clear he was needed at their practice session. They’d covered basic evasive maneuvers, and working as a team to launch offensives. Fionn hadn’t had a chance to check in with Gwydion or Arawn about how things went for their group, but planned to remedy that over supper.

It was both dark and cold when Dewi decided they’d done all they could for the day. The humans and Celts moved inside, and the dragons gathered in the courtyard outside the great room. Fionn held the kitchen door open for Aislinn and was pleased to see Gwydion, Arawn, and about twenty humans gathered around his large kitchen table. Pots bubbled on the stove, the heat powered by magic.

He ducked into the pantry and pulled out a bottle of mead, handing it to Aislinn, who drank deep. She gave the bottle back and swiped a grimy hand down her face, leaving dark streaks.

“Gods, but I’m tired,” she muttered, strode to the sink, and flipped on the taps to wash her hands. Once they were clean, she bent forward and threw water on her face.

It looked like a good idea, so Fionn did the same once she was done.

“What would ye like to eat, lass?” Fionn pulled plates from a cupboard and rustled up forks. There weren’t many left, so someone would have to wash dishes soon.

“I’ll get my own.” She joined him at the stove, took her plate, and piled it high with something from each pot. Fionn identified a grain and vegetable casserole, potatoes, and some variant of fowl, likely duck.

“Did someone find the time to hunt?” he asked the group.

Rune detached himself from a group of bond animals lounging in the far corner of the kitchen. “The meat is courtesy of our efforts.”

Fionn bowed low, sweeping an arm in front of him before straightening. “I thank you.”

“There are enough of us,” Rune informed him, “that hunting is easy, and we killed far more than we needed on purpose.”

Aislinn set her plate in front of an empty seat and made her way to Rune. She dropped into a crouch and wrapped her arms around his thick neck. The wolf angled his head and licked the side of her face. As Fionn watched them, he wondered where Bella had gotten herself off to this time. For one brief moment, he longed for a bondmate more like the wolf, but he squelched the thought before it could go anywhere. He and Bella had been together for hundreds of years. The bird was prickly and difficult, but she’d put her life on the line for him many times.

As if she were attuned to his thoughts—and maybe she was—she flapped through the kitchen door and landed on his shoulder.

“Get extra duck for me,” she squawked. “I like it better raw, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Fionn turned back to the stove and added meat to his plate until the pressure of Bella’s talons eased. “Where have you been?” he asked the raven.

“Spying.”

Anger sent a shot of bile from his stomach to the back of his throat where it burned like a bitch. Fionn forced himself to walk to the table where he set his plate next to Aislinn’s. She and Rune were still on the other side of the room, their heads bent together. Bella jumped from his shoulder to the table and buried her beak in a pile of succulent duck. He grabbed a fork and speared food, chewing and swallowing mechanically. If he waited long enough, the bird would tell him what she’d found, but if he gave in to his temper and rebuked her for going off alone without telling anyone what she was up to, she’d never say a word.

Aislinn settled beside him and placed a mead bottle on the table. He recalled leaving it on the counter next to the stove.

“Thank you,” he murmured between bites and took a long draught. The liquor helped ease the fury that still burned in his gut. Conversation ebbed and flowed around him, but no one asked him anything, so he didn’t have to pay attention.

They ate in silence, and he watched Aislinn sidelong. She shoveled food into her mouth like a starving woman; her appetite heartened him because she was far too thin. She’d dropped weight after losing their child and never gained it back. If he had his way, he’d swaddle her in layers of protection, see she had three decent meals every day, and keep her busy bearing his children. Realizing the absurdity of his fantasy, he snorted.

“What?” she asked, glancing up from her nearly empty plate. Before he could answer, she narrowed her eyes. “You and Bella are mighty quiet.”

The bird had finished eating and moved on to preening her feathers. At Aislinn’s observation, she lifted her head and focused her dark, avian eyes on Fionn. “It’s because he’d like to wring my neck.”

“Really?” Aislinn stroked Bella’s wing feathers. “What’d you do this time?”

“Everyone was busy, so I did a bit of aerial surveillance.” She fluffed her feathers, clearly proud of herself. “Ravens are common as goose grass here in Inishowen. No one paid me the slightest bit of attention.”

“Are ye planning to tell us what ye found?” Fionn asked.

“I figured you’d get around to asking me sooner or later,” the bird smirked.

Fionn ground his teeth together in frustration. Bella loved the limelight; maybe that would be a way to loosen her beak. He clinked his fork against the mead bottle and conversation died. Heads swiveled in their direction.

“While we were practicing,” Fionn announced, “Bella did some scouting. She wants to tell you about it.”

The raven flapped her way to the top of an industrial-sized, stainless steel refrigerator. The appliance was useless without electricity, but handy for mouse-proof storage, so Fionn hadn’t bothered to move it outside. Bella folded her wings across her back and waited until everyone’s attention was trained on her.

“Lemurians,” she said succinctly. “Lots of them.”

“How many?” a human asked.

The bird made a shrugging motion. “Numbers aren’t my strong suit, but enough to fill the bottom floor of a deserted castle not far from here and more were teleporting in as I watched.”

“Did ye sense any of the dark gods?” Gwydion got to his feet, leaning heavily on his staff.

“No, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t there,” Bella said.

“Aught else?” Fionn asked.

“Isn’t that enough?” Bella snapped her beak at him.

Fionn clamped down on a rejoinder and focused on Gwydion. “Any word from Bran?”

“Nay. If he isna back soon, mayhap one of us should track him down.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Arawn chimed in from where he sat at the end of the table.