The Compass (8 page)

Chapter Eight

With a mug of steaming coffee in his hand, Finn watched as the sky gave way to the new day. He had spent the remainder of the night—well, the early morning really, dissecting what had happened. After leaving Ali in her apartment, he had returned to the alley to try to find any trace of Lugus. He had found nothing, not one single thing to prove Lugus had been there. Irritation clung to him. There should have been something left behind. Though his attacks had lacked luster, Lugus had used energy to seek out Ali. Energy left a mark.

Ali had certainly left hers, on him. He had wanted to have Cian erase her memory of their whole encounter. But Tristan had interfered, explaining that she had touched him of her own freewill. By doing so, she had unwittingly united her connection to him. The pathway that had been so fragile before was now strong and clear. Tristan went on to assume that it had been Agrona’s doing in order to protect the Fragments. To wipe out her memory could possibly damage the connection.

Sighing, Finn ran his free hand through his hair. He hated how cryptic those with magick tended to be. It had been one of the reasons he had leaned towards the blade rather than his birthright. It had disappointed his parents, but they had honored his choice, and maybe even had been proud. He would never know. They perished when their world had sunken into war.

Cursing, Finn shored up the wall he had erected long ago. Dwelling on it now would serve no purpose other than cause him new pain from an old wound. The air of his apartment snapped as Cian, Tristan and Drake appeared. They had stayed out to see if they could detect what he could not. It took only a glance to know they found nothing. “How could there be no trace of one as powerful as Lugus?” He questioned no one in particular. It was Tristan who gave an answer.

“Mikel would expect nothing less of his top lieutenant.”  Walking over to the wet bar, forgoing the coffee, he helped himself to some of Finn’s finest scotch, and continued, “The dark one can’t risk the chance of us tracking back to him.”

Made sense, of all his followers, Lugus would be the closest to Mikel therefore; the risk of being followed was high. Letting the topic drop, Finn moved on to his current conundrum: Ali. He rubbed his arm absently; it still carried heat where she had touched him. He knew she had an energy that, once combined with the others, would end the darkness of his world as well as all others. But to have this kind of effect on him, well, that baffled him. A feeling he was neither used to having, nor liked. His thoughts were interrupted by Cian.

“Having one such as Lugus out on the battlefield, tells us that Mikel is aware that Fragment has awoken. If her energy affected you so strongly, the other Fragments will no doubt react the same way. We’ll have to approach the woman soon, before her mind can rebuild its defenses.”

Finn scowled at his cousin’s clinical tone. “Her name is Ali, and I shouldn’t have left her alone.” Shrugging a shoulder, Cian saluted him with the glass Tristan had poured for him. If they kept this up, he’d be out of scotch. He knew Cian had known Ali’s name, his cousin just found enjoyment in harassing him.

“Her destiny was decided long ago Finn. Stewing over the best way to go to her, to explain, only gives Lugus time to locate her. The safeguards we have provided will not prevent her energies from drifting out entirely. As for her being alone, I have a feeling finding you in her apartment would not have gone over very well.”

His scowl deepened, but Finn knew that what Cian said was true, both about her not wanting him in her home, and about her energy. Ali would be like a beacon. It wouldn’t be long before Lugus could, and would, descend upon her. He shared this thought with the others, adding: “The first of the Fragments has been discovered. Things are going to start moving quickly now.” There was a grunt, followed by the enthusiastic declaration of Drake.

“It’s about damn time.”

Finn turned to him, a retort hot on the tip of his tongue. But Tristan beat him to it.

“Feeling restless Drake?”

With his long legs stretched out in front of him, Drake was the picture of relaxation in one of the oversized chairs. Smirking at Tristan he replied, “You bet your designer ass I am. We’ve been here for years. Engaging in petty battles, and killing unworthy opponents. Mikel has been playing us. I bet he’s been laughing his sick ass off watching us destroy the puppets he sends us.”

In spite of the mood he was in, Finn found himself amused by Drake’s bluntness. However, he felt the need to point out that though their opponents had been unworthy, they were replaced quickly. “They were many in number, and took many forms.”

Drake scoffed. “So, give the whack job points for creativity, just don’t give him time to scoop up the woman.”

*****

Lugus stood tall, his head bowed. Within the safety of his lair, Mikel had no need for a disguise. Time here had ravaged the high wizard’s body. What once was a man of impressive size and muscle was now no more than skin and bones. But, Lugus knew that even in this state, Mikel was still lethal. And he could still slice down those he felt were unworthy, or worse—betrayers. When they had been out on the street, the charade of a well dressed, successful mortal had been just one of Mikel’s many illusions. With his eyes steadily downcast, Lugus delivered his news. “The Fragment has been awakened. She has no idea what she is, and was quite—belligerent to my commands.”

Mikel stared at his second in command, his black eyes burning. He had felt it when Lugus descended on the woman. Through his connection with him, he had been able to experience a small fraction of her power. And it was thrilling. “What of Agrona’s warrior—was your encounter—informative?”

Raising his head, only giving the barest of flinches, Lugus chuckled softly. “He still relies on his blade and parlor tricks.”

The news amused Mikel. “Ah yes—how disappointing Finn O'Shea has turned out to be. So much potential wasted, wielding steel for a woman who foolishly thought victory could be hers.” Mikel took in a deep breath. “It is time to call in the demon.”

Lugus curled his lips back in a snarl. “Do you think that’s wise my lord? Demons have no loyalty.”

Mikel gave the question little attention. He knew of Lugus’ disdain for the chaos demon. However, Lugus was not in charge. While it was true that demons were a fickle race, he had ensured that
his
demon understood her rank.

Vega had been trapped in bindings of the Light magick of a certain warrior’s people. Her sentence had been set for all eternity. Her crimes had been ones of unholy devastation. She set about parasites to render crops useless; she prayed upon the natural urges of men: one look at her stunningly dangerous beauty, and they fought to do her biding. After which she consumed their souls, leaving behind empty shells that roamed aimlessly, their existence continued merely for her entertainment.

She could use her voice to manipulate and destroy. Entire villages were brought to their knees, people quivered at the mention of her name. Wherever chaos went, peace could not exist, and, she was no slouch in the magick department either.

Vega was indeed very unique and dangerous combination. Of course, she was no true match for him. Nevertheless, Mikel had found a kindred spirit in the demon. In exchange for her freedom, she had pledged her loyalty to him. To guarantee her cooperation, he had performed a binding ritual. As long as he was merciful, and she obedient, she would remain free.

Mikel dismissed Lugus’ concerns with a flick of his wrist. “Your trepidations are noted Lugus. True, Vega can be—unstable. But much like you, Vega craves the one thing I can provide her. Handling her should be simple for one of your ilk.”

The compliment was a veiled threat. Lugus buried his resentment. When he had defected to the dark side, not only had he been promised revenge, but also the return of something precious. Instead, he had been no more than an errand boy, scout, and now—a babysitter. His fist clenched, but he managed to keep his true feelings from showing. Mikel was not known for his compassion, “As you wish, my lord.”

Pleased with the ready agreement, Mikel steepled his fingers and smiled. “Now, on to other business; the mortals I recruited will have the new location ready for our arrival soon. I have taken what I could from those milling about on the streets, but I need stronger energy. For too long I have lain on the sidelines.”

“I will send out our best.” Lugus backed out of the room, before fading from sight.

Alone, Mikel pondered over the exchange that had just taken place. He could taste Lugus’ hunger for more power. Though he portrayed a loyal servant now, Lugus had once been a leader. Providing him with an army of puppets wouldn’t keep the former protector of the Light satisfied for much longer. It had been in the throes of grief that he had managed to sway the righteous warrior to the dark side.

It had been easy to feed Lugus falsehoods on what had really happened the day his son had died, grief had a way of blinding one to everything else but the pain. He provided Lugus with images of a fictions battle, had shown him how Agrona, and her warriors, left the adolescent venerable in the thickness of war. He twisted it until it became Lugus’ truth, making the transition to his side easy. Nevertheless, he was going to have to keep a closer eye on his commander. Mikel knew well the hunger that grew inside of him; it was just as strong as the need for vengeance. Having Vega near would certainly help keep him in check.

Rising from his chair, Mikel glided over to the clothed mirror that hung on the wall. With a wave, the material floated to the ground. His reflection stared back at him, but he was no longer appalled at what he saw. Yes, his skin still looked sickly and his hair, once healthy and long, was now just mere patches, but, the changes were happening. He could see the improvements. His cheeks were no longer sunken in, and he could feel his body grow stronger. Soon, he will be as he once was, he wouldn’t need to rely on illusions. Standing straight, he once again covered the mirror. It was time to plan.

Chapter Nine

Ali flailed her arms and legs, her eyes screwed shut as she struck out at an unseen assailant. Fear, and her instinct to survive, had her clawing her way through the fog, pushing through for the light. Caught between the realm of sleep and consciousness, she fought. Not until the smell hit her did she waken. Her stomached rolled. “Oh, my, God; what is that?”  She pitched her body to the side, and fell, hitting the floor hard. “Ouch. Damnit.” she rolled over and struggled to sit up.

Slowly, she scanned her surroundings. She was in her living room, her body sagged with relief—she was home. Just how she got here, well, that was a bit fuzzy. Furrowing her brow, she tried to clear her head. Using the support of the couch, she pulled herself up, and stood on shaky legs. The slight throbbing in her ankle brought the events of yesterday flashing back, like a flip book she remembered having as a kid.

It was like receiving a punch to the gut. The phone call with her mother, the visit to the precinct, the headache, the voice, she closed her eyes as things began to clear. A bar, she had gone to a bar and someone spilled beer on her. Then
he
was there. Her eyes snapped open, “Finn.” Just saying his name made her stomach flutter, and brought on a perplexing sensation of acceptance, which was completely bizarre. The man had grabbed her, and then manhandled her.

More and more of the night’s events flooded her brain. She remembered feeling pain, and fear, but not from Finn, more for the unknown. There had been another man, a scary one. He and Finn got into a battle, she had crawled behind boxes. Next, she remembered she’d fallen, and her boot broke, and she had hurt her ankle. There had been lights, bright, flashing lights, and pain. The stench hit her again, shoving its way into to her recollection. A shower was in order, then, she would try to figure just what had happened last night—and what it could possibly mean.

Slapping on the light in her bathroom, she counted to ten before looking at her reflection. The scream gathered in her throat. Holy Mary mother of God, she looked like she’d been dragged behind a truck, through the city dump. Her hair was matted with something she didn’t even want to hazard a guess at. Her face was smeared with dirt. Her shirt was torn in several places, and was stained beyond the capabilities of Tide. There was a faint discolouration on her collarbone. She pulled back the tattered edge of her blouse and winced. The sickly yellow hue told her that she was going to have one heck of a bruise. All at once, her body ached—all over. She couldn’t wait to sooth it under the hot spray of the shower, and maybe—just maybe, last night would wash down the drain.

*****

Finn sat in the cafe across the street from Ali’s building, an untouched coffee in front of him. He’d known the instant that she had awoken, having stayed connected to her to keep watch while she slept. He’d felt every emotion. In hindsight, he wished he’d taken the time to find her bedroom rather than leaving her on the couch. It had been difficult to leave her, to stay away from her—still was.

Finn sighed and ran a hand down his face. He had to view her for what she was: a Fragment, he believed that now. He didn’t want to venture into the deep waters of feelings, they were too dangerous. Yet, the fact that she was
his
Fragment, complicated things. The air rippled around him just before he heard the impatient tone of Drake’s voice.

“What are we waiting for—an invitation?”

Finn grimaced at the interruption. Not the least bit surprised that both he and Tristan had shown up. He felt Cian lurking in his mind as well, and cursed his cousin’s enjoyment of his situation. Pushing him out, he addressed Drake. “We are not going to just pop into her apartment.”

“And knocking on her door is going to get us inside?” Drake snagged Finn’s coffee and proceeded to drain the contents.

Tristan, knowing this exchange could take awhile, singled for the waitress and ordered a latte, shrugging a shoulder when Finn gave him a questioning glance.

Finn released a heavy sigh. Ali’s last words came to him. A smile tugged at his mouth. “She threatened to kick my ass upon waking.”

Drake shouted with laughter, reached across the table, and slapped him on the shoulder. “Damn, can’t wait to meet her.”

Though he knew it was in jest, Finn felt irritated at Drake’s overzealous statement. Glancing over at Tristan and seeing that all knowing look, he swore. He cursed again when Tristan gave him
that
look, and then voiced, in his calm, matter of fact way, what had to be done.

“We can’t afford to wait. She needs to know what’s coming. I can go to her if it would make it easier.”

Finn didn’t need the reminder. He had to find a way to convince Ali that what she had seen, what she had heard—was all true, and that the safest place for her was with him. It was going to require more finesse then he possessed, but the idea of sending Tristan didn’t sit well with him. He was just going to have to do the best he could without suffering physical injury. Decision made, he made sure the other two understood. “I will go—
alone
.” He gave both of them a snort of derision and sent the same message to Cian mentally. “One sight of the two of you is likely to send her screaming to the authorities.” Not that he thought he’d fare any better, but at least Ali knew him—sort of. Leaving Tristan and Drake to wait, he faded out of sight.

*****

Thirty minutes, and a full bottle each of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash later, Ali stood in her living room. Besides cleansing her of God knew what, the shower had given her time to think. Something happened last night, something huge. Two men—men she had never met—because, she would have remembered
that
meeting, had come after her. One claimed to want to help her, and one wanted to take her somewhere. Her mind tried to make sense of it. The good guy, Finn, had indicated that she was in danger, and then the other guy had shown up all menacing wanting to deliver her to someone else.

A name flashed in her memory, Mikel. Whoever he was, Ali was sure she didn’t want to meet him. Tunnelling her fingers though her hair, Ali bit her lip as she tried to make sense of what had happened last night. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sexy accent of last night’s delusion.

“Ali.”

A dizzying array of emotions spun through her entire system. Every hair on her body stood on end, and she felt every single one. It was like moving through mud as she turned. When she spied Finn, her eyes widened. Covering her mouth, she shook her head and stumbled backwards. Tears welled up in her eyes, her heart thundered in her ears. The scream built up in her throat but she couldn’t let it out. Her back hit the wall. Without taking her eyes off of him, she slid to the floor.

Everything moved in, crowding her, making it hard to breathe. Yet, there was no fear. She knew he wasn’t here to hurt her—but
how
did she know that? Seeing him again, in the daylight, jarred her system. He made the room seem smaller than what it was. He looked—normal, not like the warrior from last night. His outfit was just as casual and his stance was relaxed, but his eyes—he had her trapped in them. She closed hers and started counting, knowing full well that he would still be there when she opened them. No matter how high a number she got to.

Contrary to what she was feeling, her gut was telling her that it was okay, that he was supposed to be here. She had based her entire business on her gut, and it had never let her down. She wanted to trust it now—she honestly did, but how could she when this man—Finn, made no sense to her? For the first time, Ali fought against her instincts. She needed more information. She closed herself off from the whispered suggestions that she trust this man.

Finn balled his hands into fists. It took massive control not to go over to her and gather her up as he had done last night. She looked like a battered fairy. The woman, who had threatened to kick his ass, sat on the floor, defeated. He watched as her body closed in on itself, the posture sliced through him. He took a step forward and said her name again. “Ali.” Her eyes opened and her head shook vigorously, a hand still covered her mouth. He stopped moving. He used his voice instead, wanting to bring her comfort. “I know this is a lot to take in. You’ve seen things no mortal should.”

She didn’t know where it came from, but Ali found enough strength to push against the wall and stood up. Keeping him in sight; she inched along the wall, feeling as she went, for the opening to her kitchen. His eyes tracked her and she tried hard not to let the intensity of them affect her. She needed a weapon; she didn’t care what it was, as long as her hand found one. Hitting the edge of the doorframe, she reached back and around, thankful for her tiny alcove of a kitchen. Her hand grabbed hold of a handle, when she pulled it out, she suppressed a groan. A broom, she was going to fend off her intruder with a broom.

“Careful Finn, The lady looks like she knows how to use that with deadly accuracy.”

Ali’s heart tripped over. Her hands shook as she saw another man, seemingly from the air, saunter up to stand beside Finn. He had a devil may care look to him and—damnit he was just as good looking as Finn. Her eyes went back and forth between them. Okay,
now
she was scared.

Finn cursed Cian’s timing. He had hoped to be further along with convincing Ali she wasn’t crazy before the others descended upon them. Seeing her reaction to his cousin’s arrival told him there was no help for that now. Ignoring his cousin, he took another step, and then another, keeping his movement slow.

Her slight form was clothed in jeans and simple t-shirt. Her hair fell in glorious waves, the sunlight setting the locks on fire, framing her delicate face. Struck by the sight of her, his steps faltered. He watched as she struggled against what was happening. Her eyes showed every emotion, and up until Cian arrived, there had been no fear. He didn’t like that it was there now. Her hold on the broom wavered as her hands began to shake.

“Put the broom down lass, though his timing needs work, my cousin is harmless.” He watched her eyes widen. Seeing it as a way to get through to her, Finn used it. “Despite all that you saw, I am just a man. I have family.”

His reference to being normal snapped Ali out of her paralyzed state and had her forgetting her fear. Her throat worked down a swallow, her voice came out like grated glass, “Just a man?” Though they still shook, her hands tightened on the broom handle. “You are more than just a man,” her eyes darted to where Cian stood. “He’s more than just a man.” Her voice gained strength. “That other guy from last night was more than just a man.” The broom came up. She held it as a batter would. “You were supposed to stay in my head, a figment of my imagination. Someone better tell me what the hell is going on.” When Finn opened his mouth to do just that, Ali warned him. “And don’t give me some cockamamie story about how you’re all normal.”

He bit back the smile that wanted to form. The broken fairy had found her wings once more. “I wouldn’t dream of giving you such a story, lass.” He took another step forward, stopping again when she tensed up. He lifted his hands in surrender. “You need to trust me.” When her eyes narrowed, he knew he’d uttered the wrong thing. It was confirmed when he had to jump back to avoid her deadly broom. Cian’s laughter filled his head, he ignored it. “Lass, I cannot tell you what you wish to know if you bash my head in.”

Like gasoline poured on a fire, Ali’s temper exploded. “Stay away from me. You tried to kidnap me, my boot broke—because of you, and then you dumped me on my couch. I had to throw out my favorite shirt, and my jeans were ruined.” Her tirade was interrupted when two more men appeared. One was blonde and elegant, and the other one reminded her of a bar room brawler. Her eyes went to Finn. “Just how many cousins do you have?”

The brawler let out a low whistle. “If she’s a Fragment, I can’t wait to meet the others.”

Ali let out a squeak, the man was huge. Not that Finn—or the others were tiny, this one just seemed—bigger. He didn't have an accent like Finn’s, he sounded—American. Yet, she knew he wasn't. Damnit,
how
did she know that? She pressed a hand to the side of her head.

Thousands of tiny pieces were trying to align themselves, to create a mental image for her, but her brain fought against it. This wasn’t at all like what happened when she took on a case. She felt the familiar gathering of a headache. Her other hand grew sweaty on the broom handle, but she wasn’t going to let it, or her guard, down. Her head swivelled as Mr. Elegant spoke next. It was like being a spectator at a tennis match.

“Shut up, Drake.” He then smiled at her. “I’m sorry, he’s—unrefined.”

He sounded French. The accent was faint, but Ali could hear it. His tone and manner reminded her of a renaissance man. The brawler—Drake, shot back, “Un-refined, my ass.”  Ali didn’t hear any heat behind his words. The heavy sigh of Mr. Elegant told of his indulgence of his associate.

“See what I mean? My name is Tristan, and you are, Ali—although your proper name is Alina.”

She sucked in a quick breath, saw Tristan smile again before he offered an explanation of how he knew that. “My abilities are of the mind, I suggest you start guarding yours.”

She had to guard her—his abilities were—she couldn’t breathe. She was drawing in air, but for some reason, her brain wasn’t getting it. In her tiny living room stood four huge men, and they were all looking at her. Her gaze zeroed in on Finn. He was staring at her with a mixture of—well, she couldn’t quite put a name to it. If this was another dream, it was a doozy. It was right up there with the one about—the one called, Tristan laughed.