Smoke in Moonlight (Celtic Elementals Book 1) (16 page)

Ronan held out his hand. Aidan passed the vial over slowly. "What are ye going to do with it?"

Ronan shrugged, tucking the vial into his jeans pockets. "Thought I'd send it to a chemist friend of Michael's."

“Ye wonna be destroying it, Fitzpatrick." The words were not a question.

Ronan gave his friend a sympathetic look, but his voice was firm. "I canna let ye have it, Aidan. If some of yer people got a hold of it...."

"I donna have a 'people', as ye damn well know!"

Aidan sat in the roller chair, elbows braced on those long legs. His shoulders down, staring at his hands. But the posture was far from a defeated one. Lacey saw that, as the vampire raised his eyes.

"I'd like a private word."  And that fear rushed over her again, this time in spades.

Ronan sighed. "Aye."

He grabbed Lacey's hand and pulled her to her feet. He had her out of the cottage so fast her vision blurred. When they were outside, he picked her up, since her slippers were on the bathroom floor. He didn't run, but walked quickly up the path.

"Are you two going to fight?" Lacey asked, when Ronan didn't comment on what had just happened. He shook his head, but didn't speak. In irritation, she hooked a few waves of his hair in her fingers and yanked.

"Damme!" he said, glaring down at her.

“Don't ignore me then. What are you two going to do?"

"Talk." He bit the word out as they approached the house. Sunrise was just barely blushing the morning mist pink. Lacey drummed her fingers on his chest, watching that hard profile and not believing him a bit. "So why doesn't he want me there?" Ronan gave a snort and stopped under the rose trellis, looking down at her.

"Because I doubt 'tis gonna be a
nice
talk, Lacey. And since he's hungry and exhausted, he wonna be able restrain his bloodlust when he gets pissed. Ye'd be cowering in the corner in seconds."

"I would
not
cower and.... I…I don't think he likes me." Lacey said, frowning. Wishing it didn't matter so much if his best friend liked her.

Ronan shook his head, a slight grin on his face.

"You would
definitely
cower, trust me. And actually, I think he'd find ye very likeable at the mo'—if ye weren't mine." She grimaced at the thought and Ronan chuckled.

"Am I yours, then?" she asked, trying to make light of it. As she looked up at him though, her throat tightened and her voice cracked on the last word. The muscles in his big arms rippled as Ronan squeezed her closer, almost crushing her against him. Before she could blink his mouth was on hers.

That damned desire rushed through her, as it always did at his touch. Lacey dug her fingertips into the back of his neck, giving as good as she got, wanting to savor every drop of him she could, while she could. Knowing it wouldn't ever be enough.

When he ended the kiss, Ronan softly said. "What do ye think?"

As she watched him walk away a few minutes later, standing behind the glass door as the sun began to rise in earnest, she knew that he really hadn’t answered her question.

And that hurt, far more than Lacey could have imagined.

Ronan opened the door carefully and closed it quickly, but Aidan wasn't visible. Not that he figured any less. Aidan hadn't survived this long to be fried by a stray sunbeam. The curtains on the only two windows in this room were drawn tightly and also had his spare sheets tacked over the gaps. He narrowed his eyes. Busy little bastard.

He wondered what else Aidan gotten into in the five minutes he'd been gone. He didn't have to wait long to find out. Aidan strolled out of the tiny back room, a storage area next to the bathroom where he kept his personal books and other things he wanted closer than the family library.

Aidan was carrying a handful of blueprints and an impressed expression. "You did the Black Building in Cairo? What happened to doctoring?"

"It's been a damme millennium, O'Neill. Haven't ye gotten any new interests?"

"Nae, no' really." Aidan shrugged. "I'm a simple man, mate. With simple tastes."

"Now, tha's the biggest vat of shite I've smelled in awhile." Ronan eyed his friend as he crossed to sit in the chair Aidan had left empty. "Aren't ye gonna at least wrestle me for it?"

"Hmm," Aidan mumbled, still looking at the plans in his hands. Ronan drew the vial out of his pocket and held it up. There was a flash of that bright vamp gaze before Aidan ducked his head. "Oh, tha'."

Ronan knew very well Aidan was playing him, but he went along. "Slipped yer mind already? My mistake. Guess ye really are nae all tha' keen to catch a sunrise walk after all."

Aidan sat down on the bed, tossing the papers aside, before looking up at Ronan.

"Gotten a bit cruel in yer old age, have ye?" The words were light, but Ronan heard the echo of pain he knew was very real in them.

He forced aside his sympathy for his friend. If the rest of vampires got a whiff of this stuff, that it was even possible….

There was no end to the madness he could see down that path.

"If I could, ye know damn well I'd bleed out for ye to get tha' walk, but it's too dangerous, mate. We canna go there."

Aidan sighed. "Ye think I actually believe I have a bloody chance in hell of talking ye out of it? Damme, Fitzpatrick, no one knows better than me what a stubborn eejit ye are. I would fight ye for it, but in my current condition, ye actually have a small—very small, mind—chance of kicking my arse. So, I'm good with putting
tha'
on hold for the mo'. No, I wanted a word on another... complication."

"Gods, another one?" Ronan rubbed his face wearily. "I'm getting right tired of new ones."

"Oh, this one's already right under yer nose." Aidan was finally removing his gloves, he tucked them into his trench coat as he watched Ronan.

"Lacey, ya mean?" Ronan dropped his hand and shot Aidan a glance.

"Got it in one. Donna like tha' whole Aine deal...and those dreams are right nasty, once ye get past the fun bits, of course."

"Son of a bitch! Ye peeked into her mind." Ronan half-rose from his chair, then considering, slowly sat back down.

Aidan grinned, reading him easily. "Oh no, mate. You know it donna work tha' way. I only got random pieces of her memories, nae her reactions to those memories. Tha' makes all the difference. I donna know if she's trustworthy or no'. Or anything
else
ye might be wondering about."

"But if ye touched her...did a proper reading?"

He leaned back and folded his arms. "Ye really tha' far gone on her?" They exchanged a look that had Aidan aching for his friend. He cleared his throat. "It wouldna really matter, if she is clean and innocent as she seems. Hell, I'd say she is. But, ye know damn well it just means they're using her. And I‘d say it‘s working, wouldn‘t ye?"

"I donna know tha' they are using her, no' fer certain. And neither do ye." Ronan's stomach was balling tighter and tighter as Aidan summed up everything so succinctly, so logically. Everything he'd felt with that first dream, but had been trying hard to ignore since he'd botched that first night. And let her get to him.

"Someone's trying bring ye down, Fitzpatrick. Tha's what Bav showed me, which she probably only did ‘cause ye know she's got tha' soft spot for me. Then I pop up and yer making nice,
really
nice, with a woman under Aine's protection? I mean, gods, Ronan. 
Aine,
of all of 'em? Call me crazy but I say one and one adds up to dead werewolf, mate." He coughed once when Ronan stayed silent.

"Ye know what tha' means."

His family's faces filled Ronan's head. Letting them back into the sweep of time again, letting them be normal mortals would be
fine.
A blessing even. But that wouldn't happen. Instead, the curse would fall to Eamon...or would it go to Michael first? The thought of his brother, a loving husband and father becoming a monster. Or worse, his shy, clever nephew...suffering this madness.... 

Ronan stared down at his hands, startled to see the knuckles turning white. He hadn't realized he curled them into fists.

"I can take care of it, mate. I'll make it quick. She wouldna even..." Aidan's soft words died off as Ronan lunged to his feet. His face curled in a snarl.

"No!" His shout died abruptly to a whisper. "No, she's mine. I'll do it."  He walked into the bathroom and kicked the door shut behind him. Aidan stared at the closed door for a long time before he lay back on the bed, tucking his arms under his head and looking up at the ceiling.

"Poor sop." He muttered to himself. "He's friggin' in love with her." Aidan knew he should stay awake and make sure Ronan didn't do anything rash, but the exhaustion of three nights hard travel and having only one quick drink that whole way
plus
forcing himself to remain upright an full hour after the sun's rising finally beat him down into sleep.

He didn't stir when Ronan tucked the covers over him tightly and slipped out of the cottage. Aidan O'Neill always sleep like the dead.

Lacey had been roped into kitchen duty when Moiré saw her. She hadn't asked why Lacey was up and thankfully Lacey had had a chance to change into more fitting clothing by the time Ronan's mother saw her sitting at the table. Her green sweater and a pair of jeans, but she had held Ronan’s shirt for long moments before reluctantly tucking it under her pillow.

A foreboding feeling had stolen over her.

Lacey would have blamed it on exhaustion, but she didn't feel tired in the least. Keyed up and wary of alerting Moiré to what was going on between her and Ronan, Lacey cracked eggs into the frying pan and made toast and set the dining room table. Keeping busy and trying not to think. Especially about Ronan.

Through it all Moiré chatted in her usual cheerful way. Though if Lacey had been paying more attention she might have caught the mingled worry and triumph that flickered through the older woman's eyes as they worked. It was only when everyone else had sat down at the table and Daire asked where Ronan was that Lacey blew it.

"I don't think he'll be up this morning." She mumbled, without thinking.

Michael stopped with his forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth, before Shelagh nudged him with her elbow. But young Chloe, of course, would not be deterred.

"How would ye know tha'?" She demanded.

Lacey knew her cheeks were on fire, but she couldn't think of a word to say.

Daire was pointedly and politely not looking at her. Shelagh and Michael were exchanging a smile.

Moiré stepped to the rescue. "He must have come up earlier and talked to Lacey before I got up. Innit that the way of it, lass?"

Lacey had to accept that every adult at this table knew exactly what had occurred between her and Ronan last night. She swallowed and straightened her shoulders. "Um, yes. It seems he has a visitor."

Daire's head swiveled toward her, his expression perplexed, as was everyone else's. "Come again?"

All semblance of eating had halted, even the twins were staring at her. "Someone named Aidan..." Lacey hadn't thought about it, but now she realized they must know of Ronan's vampire friend. She only had a second to wonder how they'd react.

"Uncle Aidan!" shouted all the children, almost before she finished. Which was interesting.

But not as interesting as the other reactions she saw.

Michael frowned down at his plate. Shelagh bit her lip, barely repressing a shudder. Moiré looked simultaneously shocked and a bit pleased, but then she turned almost immediately to look down the table at Daire. Lacey followed her gaze and was thunder stuck.

Daire was white to the lips, the expression on his sweet, handsome face murderous. He threw his napkin on his untouched plate and walked out of the room without a word.

"Shoulda I go after him, do ye think?” Michael asked quietly through the celebratory yells of the children. Moiré sighed and rubbed her head.

“Nae, leave him be. He'll be needing his space at the mo'." She then looked at Lacey's questioning face sadly. "I'm sorry, lass, but I canna tell ye what vexes Daire. His secret is his own and he's kept it close for a long, long time. Even Ronan..."

Moiré shook her head and said no more.

Lacey wondered what could be between that slick vampire and Daire that Ronan was unaware of. Whatever it was, it was bad. Very bad. She shivered and forced herself to eat her cold eggs. It was definitely not looking to be a good day.

It got a lot worse when she and Moiré were cleaning up. Michael had taken the children out and Shelagh was off to an appointment in Limerick, at the gallery she had there. Daire and Ronan both were still absent, so it was just the two of them. Lacey was going through everything she had heard while listening to Ronan and Aidan last night. Again. One curious thing she hadn't understood kept sticking in her head.

"Moiré?"

"Hmmm," the older woman was scrubbing pots while Lacey dried, obviously wrapped in her own thoughts as much as Lacey was.

"What would it mean if someone said to you that the Morrighan was 'washing your laundry'?"

There was a crash as Moiré dropped the cast-iron frying pan, suds flew everywhere and the kitchen floor shook from the impact.

Moiré stared at her through the bubbles dancing in the air. "Where did ye hear that? Lacey!
Where?"

Lacey blinked, stunned by her vehemence.

"Aidan," she said finally. "Aidan told Ronan that's why he came. He saw this Morrighan, or one of them, washing Ronan's laundry..." She was stunned to see tears in Moiré's brown eyes. The woman leaned over the sink, one arm wrapped around her own stomach as if she wanted to retch. She was whispering to herself in Gaelic.

"Moiré, you're scaring me! What's wrong?" Lacey reached out a hand and grasped her shoulder.

"Everything," Moiré whispered. "I was wrong. He told me nae to hope, but I was so sure..." She didn't resist when Lacey lead her to the kitchen table. She just sat down hard, her hands twisting themselves on the scarred tabletop. Lacey reached for her hands. They were ice-cold.

"Moiré, please tell me what's going on?" she pleaded. Lacey felt cold herself, the foreboding that had been with her since Ronan had left was heavy in the air. It was hard to breathe.

"It's an old prophecy, old as the gods themselves, I suppose." Moiré's voice sounded impossibly old itself right now, ancient and weary. "Bav, she has a weakness for warriors, ye see, but she's cruel, too. Impossibly cruel. She'd give a vision to the ones who were facing an upcoming battle. Some would see victory and valor, but others....would see her washing their blood-soaked armor in the River Shannon." She raised her eyes and looked at Lacey. "They were the ones who died."

Lacey felt the shock burn down to her toes. Ronan couldn't die...he'd been alive longer than freakin' Methuselah. He was indestructible. Wasn't he?

As long as I don't get killed...
Ronan's words echoed in her head. But how
could
he get killed? He'd survived this long. She let go of Moiré's hands and jumped to her feet, her heart suddenly pounding. "But it's just a prophecy, right? Just a possibility... C’mon, 'no fate but what we make', right?"

Moiré's brows drew together in a puzzled way, but her voice was lifeless.

"Anything is a possibility, Lacey. But Cúchulainn once had a vision of Bav washing his armor in the Shannon and he was the greatest warrior Eire has ever known. He was Lugh's own
son
, for pity's sake. And still he died." Her lips were quivering slightly. "I was sure, so sure...that ye..." her words died out as Lacey looked down at her in shock.

"What?" The whole room seemed to spin as Moiré continued.

"I thought ye were here to save him, I was just sure of it. I've seen glimpses of ye for years. Just these wee flashes on and off. I have a bit 'o the sight, ye see. You were my hope. Even when ye said you'd seen Aine, even when that vile witch placed ye under her protection. I thought it was a trick, her trying to get us nae to trust ye, see? To keep ye from us. But Ronan warned me. He warned me nae to hope."

"What did Ronan warn you about?
What did he say about me?"
Lacey couldn't seem to get a breath, the air felt solid in her lungs.