Instinct (21 page)

Not alone. Not with his ill-training. Between work and school, he just didn't have the time to focus on martial skills that he needed.
If I live, I swear I'm going to pay more attention to Kyrian, Caleb, and Acheron when they try to teach me this stuff.
No more gaming until he mastered real fighting.

He meant that this time!

“Liv!”

“What?” she snapped irritably. Like
she
had a reason to be snotty when he was the one getting the crap beat out of him? His arm was so bruised right now, he could barely lift it. His back ached. His head hurt. And he wasn't too sure he still had a working spinal cord.

“Help!”

“Can't. They don't have blood for me to drain. That's how I fight.”

Well, fan-freaking-tastic. Nick blasted another stone soldier with a bolt of fire and twisted from the grasp of another.

I'm so getting my butt kicked.
He couldn't even get to his grimoire to attempt his Hail Mary play.

How had Xev survived it here?

For one thing, he was a god. And a trained soldier, with real battle experience.

And you're the Malachai. You have the power of ancient gods and the Source, too. You can tap the primal powers of the entire universe and blast them to oblivion
.

Use the Force, Luke!

All of a sudden, he felt the warmth of his powers building inside him. The fire of it rushed through his blood, faster and faster. His vision darkened. His back burned as his wings began to push through the surface of his skin.

Don't!
He heard Nekoda's voice in his head telling him not to morph.
You can't control it!

She was right and he knew it. He did lose a part of his soul to the darkness every time he accessed those powers he didn't fully understand.

But … there were no people here. No one he loved that he could lose or accidentally hurt if he went Malachai.

Yeah, but he had no anchor here either. No one to pull him out of it or calm him down. The gods knew Livia wouldn't do it. She didn't care enough to.

If you don't come back from the Malachai state, your mom and Caleb will die. As the full Malachai, you won't care about getting them their cure.

If I don't live through this attack, they won't survive either.

There was that. Nick didn't know what to do. He was terrified to use those powers and scared not to, especially since his strength was already starting to fail during the fighting. He wouldn't last much longer in his human body.

Soon, they'd have him.

Maybe this was what Chronus and Tiamat had wanted. A full-blown Malachai. The nightmare beast that didn't care who or what it destroyed. The one that fed on utter misery and destruction.

“Give in to your pain. Not your hatred.”

Nick froze at the unexpected deep, masculine voice behind him. That rumbling, thick, lilting brogue would be unintelligible if he wasn't used to taking orders from the Celtic Dark-Hunter Talon. He was the only one who had an accent anywhere near what he'd just heard.

Turning, he saw the shadowed form of a man in the darkness. “Pardon?”

“You want control of your Malachai powers,
boyo
? Give in to the pain and anger. Never the hatred. Set it aside and let it go. Pain will strengthen you and empower you to do better. To be more than what you are. Your hatred will devour you, and swallow you whole if'n you let it. Give in to your pain. Not your bitter hatred.”

He made it sound so easy, but it wasn't.

“I'm not sure I know how to do that.”

“Then you'll become the Malachai you fear. You might as well let it go, and become him now. No need in getting your arse kicked any worse than what it is. Why endure the misery of it for another minute, eh?”

Nick cursed as one of the beasts kicked him hard in the ribs and another slashed him across the back. He cut one and stumbled away from the next before he sliced a new attacker.

Groaning in pain, he glared at his wise leprechaun tormenter. “Hey, Lucky Charms Legolas? In the meantime, could you hop your butt over here and help a brother out?”

“I wish. Sadly, I lack corporeal form. Like this, I can't even bleed or spit on them.”

Livia hissed at the shadow. “Ignore him, Nick. He's just a puck.”

“A what?”

“A p
ú
ca.” She spat the term out as if it was the lowest life form ever created. “A will-o'-the-wisp. They're worthless creatures who were damned and cursed by their gods.”

“Or a god of war tricked and trapped here by his own kinsmen who stole his powers after he was stupid enough to trust them.” The shadow moved closer to the battle. If he was offended by Livia's attack, he gave no clue of it.

Nick groaned as one of the stone creatures hit him hard and sent him to the ground. He tried to rise, but the earth wrapped around his body and held him down. “Do you know how to fight them?” he asked the p
ú
ca.

“Yes.… If I had a real flesh-and-blood body, I could defeat them all.”

Grimacing and cursing in pain, Nick locked gazes with him as he had a radical idea. It might be crazy, but it was the only one he could think of. “Will you exchange forms with me long enough to take them out?”

The p
ú
ca cocked a finely arched brow as if he wasn't quite sure he'd heard those words. “You would trust me?”

“If you give me your word, yes.”

The p
ú
ca pulled back and blinked in utter disbelief. “You'd accept me word?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

“Don't do it, Nick! You can't trust a puck! They're liars and thieves. All of them! It's what they do!”

Nick ignored her. “I will trust your honor until
you
give me a reason not to.”

The p
ú
ca hesitated a moment longer before he inclined his head to him. “'Tis a pact then, Malachai, between us brothers. Let me in and I'll ring their blessed bells, till they run weeping home.”

Using as little of his Malachai powers as was necessary, Nick swapped his soul with the puck's.

One second, he was on the ground, getting the snot beaten out of him, and in the next, he was the one in the shadows.

Ah, yeah, it felt really good to have a body that wasn't riddled with pain. He could finally draw a deep breath again and not wince or groan from it.

All hail working lungs!

He turned back toward his real body where it was being crushed and bludgeoned by huge, brutish attackers.

Dang, he'd done well to keep them off him. But that was an ugly, ugly sight. And he had no idea how the p
ú
ca was going to fight them off. For a moment, he fully expected the p
ú
ca to get them both killed.

Then, with a fierce battle cry and unbelievable dexterity that made a mockery of what Nick could do on a football field, the puck came up from the ground in Nick's body. He swung the Malachai sword and went after the others fast and furious, and with a martial skill Nick envied. A part of him doubted he would ever be that good with a sword.

But then, he wasn't a god of war.

Whoever the p
ú
ca had been before his banishment, he must have been incredible on a battlefield. 'Cause he still had it. And its evil cousin and all its friends.

In a matter of minutes, the p
ú
ca had every single attacker scattered and fleeing into the night, begging for mercy and whimpering as they ran.

Yeah, he had rung every bell as promised and found a few in the field no one had seen.

Barely breathing hard, he turned toward Nick and let loose a proud, arrogant smile that said he'd thoroughly enjoyed every second of that brisk fight.

Laying the blade of the sword over his shoulder, he held his hand up before his face and made a tight fist. He kissed it reverently. “I've so missed having a physical body. You just don't know,
boyo
 … You. Just. Don't. Know.”

The anguished joy in his voice concerned Nick greatly. “You are going to give that back, right?”

He met Nick's gaze with a hooded, unfathomable stare. For a second, Nick thought he'd made a bad mistake.

Until the p
ú
ca held his hand out to him and grinned in friendship. “Aeron, cursed, damned, and forgotten son of the Morr
í
gan. Nice meeting you, Malachai.”

Nick tried to shake his hand, only to see just how frustrating it was to be noncorporeal. No wonder Aeron hated it so.

Gah! It sucked!

Aeron snorted good-naturedly before he exchanged places with Nick again.

Nick took a moment to fully appreciate his “skin” and, best of all, nerve endings, before he faced Aeron's ghost form. The puck's skin was pearly white and translucent. Like shimmering moonlight. His pale eyes reminded him of Acheron's swirling silver ones. Even his hair was silvery white and long. He would be pretty but for the masculine jawline and rugged air that clung to him even though he was a ghostly white. His clothes were those of an ancient warlord, complete with a bare, muscled chest that showed battle scars and a stylized Celtic raven tattoo.

Livia gaped at Aeron. “I can't believe you kept your word to return his body.”

Aeron raked a less than pleased stare over her. “To you … I wouldn't have.” He inclined his head respectfully to Nick. “You trusted me and
that
I would never betray. Trust, much like a woman's love and affection, and brotherly friendship, is a sacred thing, and should never be lightly given nor abused nor taken for granted.”

Nick shrank his Malachai sword down and returned it to his pocket. “How long have you been trapped here?”

Aeron shrugged. “Time has long lost all meaning to me. But not to you. Come,
boyo,
and I'll take you to the Nemed.”

Nick narrowed his gaze. “How do you know about that?”

A slow, charming grin curved his lips. “I may be weakened, but I do still have some of me powers, and I was just in your body, privy to your thoughts and mission.”

Oh, there was that.

Lerabeth finally swooped down to join them. “I am to take him. 'Tis my mission and duty, p
ú
ca, not yours!”

Nick just loved how she couldn't help with the fight, but could interfere with the help. How typical was that?

Arching an arrogant brow, Aeron stared at the bird. “I know this realm better than anyone.” He returned his silvery gaze to Nick. “But you have to keep faith in me, Malachai. If you doubt me at all, for even an instant, I will vanish. Those are the laws of me existence. No matter what happens or what you see, you must continue to believe that I'm leading you to your destination. Do you understand?”

“Got it.”

“Then follow me and ignore everything else.” He glared meaningfully at the bird. “Especially the barking dogs who are trying to distract you from your goal.”

“I'm not a dog, puck.”

“I'm not really a p
ú
ca, bird. I was born the son of the Morr
í
gan and the Dagda.”

Bemused by their banter, Nick did have one thing that concerned him about Aeron. “Before we start, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why are you helping me?”

He glanced away, but not before Nick caught the bitter sadness in his shimmery gaze. “You freed Xevikan when no Malachai ever has. For that kindness, I be owing you.”

Nick scowled at the absolute last thing he'd
ever
expected Aeron to say. “How do you know about that?”

“You are the Malachai. Had you drained him and returned him here to this hell to suffer more for that which he didn't do, he'd have immediately come home to me. And that he didn't.”

Okay, take that earlier statement back.
That
was the absolute last thing Nick
ever
expected Aeron to say.

His eyes widened in complete and utter shock. “Oh.”

Aeron laughed at his gaping expression. “We are brothers and friends, Malachai. Nothing more.”

“Ah … Gotcha. Whatever you say.”

Looking around at the dark forest, Aeron sighed warily. “Here, family and friend are hard to come by. When you are lucky enough to find one, you hold on with both hands and treasure him or her with everything you are. I hope you will appreciate my brother and give him the regard he's due.”

“I'm trying. But he doesn't always make it easy.”

Aeron laughed. “None of us do, especially when you've been so bloody wounded by everyone around you. Just remember, you owe him your life. Had you not done right by him, I would have left you to them what wanted you today, and let them have their wicked ways with you.” He winked at Nick. “No matter what anyone else tells you about Xevikan, he's a good man. A loyal friend. Better than any I know.”

“That's what I sense, too.”

Aeron inclined his head to him. “Listen to your heart, Malachai. It will never fail you. Other senses lie. Especially the tongues of others. But it never does.” He turned into a small bluish-white light that hovered at eye level. “Now, follow me and I'll help you.”

Livia curled her lip at Aeron's small, ghostly light form. “He looks like a little fairy.”

Aeron snorted. “I am a little fairy in this form, woman. It's what a p
ú
ca is. If you're trying to insult me masculinity, you'll have to try a lot harder. I was a Celtic warrior and war god who fought, wrestled, played, and went to war naked with other men, including me brothers and uncles. I'm quite comfortable in me skin and with me life choices, whatever they've been. Excepting the stupidity what led me here. It'll take a lot more than some waspish wisp of a fey shrew calling me names to hurt me feelings, and make me doubt meself.”