Smoke in Moonlight (Celtic Elementals Book 1)

BOOK: Smoke in Moonlight (Celtic Elementals Book 1)
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SMOKE IN MOONLIGHT
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

© 2014 Heather R. Blair

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

COVER DESIGN by the author, with special thanks to the artist, dreadpiratefluffy for the background image, other images courtesy iStock.

 

Dedicated to all the English teachers; good, bad or otherwise, all of you taught me something, especially
Sue Serrano.
Thanks for fanning the light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SMOKE IN MOONLIGHT

 

 

By

 

HEATHER R BLAIR

 

 

The Legend
of the Faoladh

 

Ireland has ever been a land shrouded in mist and legend. None more enduring than that of the faoladh — or werewolf.

 

In a time known as the Dark Ages throughout Europe, Ireland was experiencing an age of enlightenment.

Scholars flocked to her shores to partake of knowledge at her great colleges. The just rule of the brehons ruled the land and for the most part Eire was at peace. The Church in Rome was gaining a hold in the land but—while many welcomed the news of the new god, Jesu—most of the people remained pagan at heart. As the Church worked to stamp out these ancient beliefs, it also tolerated them.

But only just.

In the year 589, a priest named Natilus was traveling at Candlemas, a time when celebrations were held to honor ancient gods of the Tuatha de Danaan, such as Brigid, goddess of hearth and fire, and Lugh, god of the sun. The people gathered to play games that tested strength and skill, to dance and sing, eat and drink—often to great excess.

No family was more boisterous in their celebrations than the Mac Giolla Phadraig, and it was into their gathering the priest came.  Natilus had recently returned from a sojurn in the holy city of Rome, and the overt hedonism appalled him. Even more so when one of the family—a young man—happened to stumble into Natilus, spilling his cup of ale on the priest’s robes and knocking the older man to the ground. Despite a good-natured—if somewhat drunken apology—the priest was enraged.

In his anger, Natilus spoke a terrible curse,

‘Since it is beasts you behave as and beasts that you worship, so it is beasts you shall become!’

He decreed that upon reaching manhood, the eldest son would become faoladh for each rise of the moon, and such would be the fate of every first born male until the line of the Mac Giolla Phadraig died out.

The Mac Giolla Phadraig brushed off this ‘curse’, believing it to be nothing more than impotent words born of the injured pride of an old man. Protected and long beloved by Lugh the Long Hand himself, the Mac Giolla Phadraig were slow to fear.

Until upon the next waxing of the moon, it did indeed come to pass as Natilus had decreed. Terrified but unbowed, the family appealed to Lugh to negate the curse…

But it is said that the old gods were fading in Eire, their powers dim and that no help came to the Mac Giolla Phadraig.

The family's misery seemed destined to last forever, their horrible fate sealed irrevocably.

And yet…

the tale is old

and time is long

and men’s memory weak…

Who is to say how the story
really
ended?

 

Chapter 1

 

Aine, goddess of the Tuatha de Danaan stood trailing her hand languidly through the pool of moonlight she'd poured into the basin.

The luminescent mist clung to her fingers as she raised them to her lips and blew, scattering moonbeams throughout Ti'rna No'g, the starry city of the gods. She laughed in feigned delight, trying to distract the occasional passer-by from what she was really doing at the scrying pool.

The ghost of Nuada gave her an amused smile as he passed between the translucent stone columns, the former king raising his glistening silver arm in greeting.

She smiled back sweetly, muttering under her breath, "Move along, ye old relic."

Aine whirled back to the basin, the short dark tendrils of her hair flying about her pale cheeks. Blue eyes as bright as cobalt stared into the swirling light. Her light. As goddess of the moon, Aine had to use her essence to scry here. It was worth it, as she would see more clearly in Ti'rna No'g than anywhere else. Unfortunately, if any of the other gods got a glimpse of what she was scrying, especially Lugh…

Aine shuddered at the thought of that confrontation, not entirely in fear. Her mind wandered at the prospect of Lugh's punishments when the light began to clear—like icy glass defrosting in winter. She leaned over the basin eagerly. A woman with red-gold hair and a bemused expression looked up at her. Ah, the key was approaching. She swirled the moonlight and again saw what she expected. Fierce and deadly, the wolf surged through the woods, glancing over one darkly powerful shoulder with the gray eyes of a man.

"Hello there, sweetheart," Aine murmured, running a finger over the image. The one that got away. Every girl had one, didn't they? And she was far from through with punishing him for it. It was a pity, really, when he was so close, so
very
close to giving in.

Ah, but she had a bigger agenda to attend to.

She sighed. Nothing surprising here. Aillen would be pleased. Of course, her brother didn't know the whole story, now did he?

Aine emptied the basin with one swoop of her hand, chuckling.

With a satisfied smirk, she turned to leave the pool and instead slammed into a very solid bare chest. She looked up and swallowed.

Lugh was glaring down at her, his expression murderous. The sun-god and current king of the Tuatha de Danaan, Lugh blazed against the background of the ethereal misty city. His long, white-blond hair grazed bronzed shoulders, the trio of braids by his left ear brushed against a hard jaw bristling with dark golden hairs.

She forced a smile and raised her hand to that jaw. "Fancy meeting ye here, love."

Lugh seized her hand in his big one, but not before Aine caught the glint of amusement in his summer-blue eyes. The fact that she amused Lugh had saved her hide on more than one occasion. That and her
other
considerable talents. She could only hope they would again.

If he found out what she was up to…

Lugh squeezed until she let out a gasp. "I saw ye watching Ronan again. I've told ye to let him be,
love
. He's suffered enough at yer hand."

He let go of said hand, but Aine, ignoring the throbbing pain, placed it on his chest, in the tangle of crisp blonde hair.

"Little ol' me, a threat to such a big, strong warrior?" She leaned forward and flicked her tongue boldly over one of Lugh's nipples, viciously pleased when it hardened instantly. "Ye must be joking, yer Majesty."

He growled something too low for her to hear, then yanked her to him. She'd hardened other parts of that magnificent body as well, Aine noticed, her lips curving as she wound her legs around him.              

"One day I'll get tired of ye, Aine." He breathed the warning into the shell of her ear, the bristles of his jaw prickling her neck. Aine shivered but ground her hips wantonly into him.

"But no' today." She said, staring up at him, her eyes bright with lust. A lust she knew very well he shared.

"Nae, no' today." He agreed reluctantly. With a curse, Lugh carried her out of the courtyard and across a shining dais. When he threw her down in his bedchamber and drove himself between her thighs, Aine cried out in satisfaction.

Everything was going her way.

At long last.

 

 

Minneapolis

 

Rushing around the mess of her townhouse bedroom, Solace Ryan tripped over a pile of sweaters and barked her shin on an open dresser drawer.

"God damnit!"

She rubbed her shin with one hand and scooped the offending sweaters up with the other, dumping them on the bed with a look of disgust. Lacey flopped onto the violet and cream striped duvet, still rubbing her burning leg and tried to calm down. It wasn't easy.

This trip to Ireland was something she had been dreaming of since she was a child, something she had been planning in earnest for the past year. Everyone said she was crazy to take an extended leave of absence now. Now that her career as a producer for a local television station was really taking off.

“For Gods sakes, Lace,” her sister had warned, “
Feelin' Minnesota
just won a damn Emmy! You can’t leave now, do you want to go back to writing copy for Donovan?”

Feelin' Minnesota
was her baby, but her two-year-old prodigy had just gone national. Lacey had been glad to hand the reins over to someone else. Despite her sister’s chronic negativity, sliding all the way back to Donovan was unlikely. He had been her first boss at KQUE and a bigger prick did not exist anywhere. At least, personality-wise.

Literally, she was betting on teeny-weeny, though thank God she'd never be able to say for sure.
Not
for lack of trying on his part, Lacey thought to herself with a shudder.

Working her way through the ranks had definitely sucked some times. And no, Lacey didn’t want to jump through those hurdles again, but she hardly thought that was a real danger. She was being retained as a consult for
Feelin' Minnesota,
after all, and other offers were steadily trickling in. Lacey was just going to put them on hold for six months.

Or more.

Because in some way she—with all her gift for words—was incapable of explaining to her sister, Lacey knew this was the time. Her time.

It had to be.
Otherwise, she’d be looking at 40, instead of thirty and she still wouldn’t have gone for her dream. Her real dream, the one she’d always cloaked in practicality for her practical bossy sister, Katie. Kate never would have accepted writing as a viable career choice. Journalism and production with a side of business, however, had gone over pretty well. Lacey had chosen to take the path of least resistance, like usual.

But she
hadn't
given up her dream.

That dream was rooted in Ireland. It always had been. She wanted to write about the land she'd always yearned to see. And she was going to do it
now
.

Katie thought she'd gone mad.

‘Jeez, we're barely even qualify as Irish, Lacey!’

Katie, Lacey thought ruefully, was fully English in her roots and all-American in her appearance. Despite the hard life she'd had raising Lacey on her own since she was seventeen—or maybe because of it—Kate didn’t have a whiff of sentiment about her.

Lacey knew very well that her sister loved her fiercely. Otherwise, it would be much easier to ignore her advice.  But hell, even her best friend, Heather— who was busy modeling in the Mediterranean at the moment and not known for practicality—had cheerfully informed her she was nuts.

‘Completely psycho, girlfriend!’
had been her exact words.
‘But if you've got an itch to go chase some leprechauns, make sure you pick me up some Waterford before you come home.’

That was so very
Heather
—but despite the flippancy Lacey had heard the unspoken worry her friend would never burden her with aloud.

Lacey got to her feet and surveyed her wreck of a bedroom. Well, she was just going to ignore her sister
and
her best friend
and
most of her colleagues and she
was
going to do this. But, damnit—she had to pack first.

Groaning, she waded back into the fray.

 

St. Paul was teeming, even at five in the morning. Mist hovered over the Mississippi and drifted through the maze of airport terminals and a behemoth parking garage. Airplanes whistled and boomed overhead.

Lacey looked over at her sister’s clenched jaw and was thankful she wasn’t driving. She knew Katie had only agreed to the favor to get another chance to bully her out of going. That wasn't surprising. Kate took her role as big sister and head of the family quite seriously. What was surprising, however, that Katie hadn’t said a word the whole drive. Lacey braced for a last-minute assault. It didn’t come.

At least not in the way she'd expected.

They pulled up curbside and got out. Katie handed over Lacey’s purple carry-on and just stood, staring at her, chewing her lip. The lip-chewing was Lacey’s first clue something beyond a normal, big sister lecture was up.

Katie didn’t have nervous habits.

Not
any
.

For a woman who still occasionally bit her nails to the quick, that lack in her sister had always been a source of irritation. Katie acting like this now made Lacey feel guiltier than words ever could have.

“C’mon, Kate,” she said with a hint of impatience. “Lighten up! It’s just an extended vacation, a little indulgence. It’s hardly going to ruin my life, okay?”

Kate frowned and turned to watch the hustle as passengers and taxis and porters jockeyed for position along the terminal. Her silence in all the noise and hubbub ratcheted Lacey’s nerves up another notch. She was a hair’s breadth from snapping at her sister, when Katie turned back to her and said something so softly she didn’t catch it.

“What?” Lacey said, her voice loud even amidst all the racket.

Katie glared at her and stepped closer.

“I had a dream,” she said, though clenched teeth, before dropping her gaze to address the sidewalk. Her pale sweep of blonde hair fell over her face, hiding her eyes.

Lacey looked at her blankly. Of all the things she might expect to hear, that definitely wouldn’t have made the top fifty.

Her sister hadn’t admitted to dreaming at all since the third grade, when she’d had a screaming nightmare after watching “The Incredible Hulk.” It was then—at the ripe old age of nine—that Katie had decided not to watch anything that wasn’t strictly factual. For a ludicrous moment Lacey wondered if Katie had been hitting Nick at Nite or something and ran across an old rerun of the big, green guy.

“Ummm, oka-ay. Kate, I know it’s odd for you, but for most of us, dreaming is pretty
normal
human behavior.” Lacey said, feeling relieved. Katie's strange demeanor had been freaking her out a little.

“Cut it out, Lace! I’m not joking.”

A second glance at her sister’s pale face with its bright spots of indignation had Lacey’s relief ebbing away. Katie folded her arms and shivered, continuing to look down at the ground as she spoke haltingly.

“You were running...like through the woods somewhere. It was so dark— even though the moon was out. A full moon, but it only made everything seem darker somehow. You were crying,
really
crying like something terrible had happened. There was a lot of mist…or maybe it was smoke.... God, Lace! There was
blood
on your face. Blood on your clothes, too. You were wearing that green sweater I got you—you know the only thing I ever got you that you actually like?” She looked up a second and meet Lacey’s eyes blankly.

“Lace, it was
horrible.
Something was snarling and I reached out for you, but you just….vanished. Vanished into all that smoke and I couldn’t help you. I remember thinking no one could, that you were lost. Forever.”

Goosebumps raced up Lacey’s arms as she stared at Katie. It crossed her mind, even knowing her sister and how little imagination she had, that this could be Katie’s last ditch effort at keeping her home. Lacey shook herself of the traitorous thought almost immediately—even Katie’s brand of manipulation didn’t stretch
quite
that far.

It seemed she had just worried herself sick over Lacey’s trip. Sick enough to be having nightmares about it.

Lacey found herself touched by the concern, even as she rejected it. It was just the old fear, the fear both of them shared, the paranoia that made them want to keep their loved ones close and safe. Lacey understood that, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be trapped by it.

Not anymore.

“Oh, c'mon now, Kate. You’re the last person I’d know to believe in prophetic dreams. You don't even read your damn horoscope, not even for
fun
.” Lacey put heaps of frustration into her rueful tone and managed to get a shaky half-laugh from her sister.

BOOK: Smoke in Moonlight (Celtic Elementals Book 1)
7.38Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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