Blue Keltic Moon (Children of the Keltic Triad) (28 page)

She nearly sobbed with relief when Gowthaman pulled a blanket over his head and shoulders cocooning them in a makeshift tent then slid his hand past her belly button and under the waistband of her jeans. The snap popped free and he slowly opened the zipper. She sighed. At last.

His long, wondrous fingers circled, teased, entered to stroke deep inside her. As if he knew the moment her cries ached for release, he covered her mouth with his, sealing the sounds between them. Taking her. So high. So tight. So...

The interior of their makeshift tent filled with sparkling crimson and golden lights. Gowthaman lifted his head, gazed down on her and with one final stroke gave her powerful, shattering release. Bree bit her lip to contain her cry until Gowthaman soothed the spot with his tongue. She sighed and tugged him close for a kiss.

A long, satisfying kiss. Even longer they remained under the blanket watching the colors of their soulfire collide, swirl together and combine. Finally Gowthaman pushed the blanket from his shoulders, rolled to his back and fitted her against his body so her head rested on his chest.

Her breathing slowed as he stroked her back and she listened to the strong beat of his heart.

Another thrumming beat intruded on the languid moments. She lifted her head. “Do you hear that beating?”

“It is only the song of love in my heart, Breanna. Rest, love.”

Her breathing relaxed to the rhythm of Gowthaman’s heart. She listened to the other insistent beat. The sounds lulled her toward sleep.

Her eyes popped open. She pressed one hand to Gowthaman’s chest and sat. “No, listen. Those are drum beats.”

Tugging and fastening her jeans, Bree scrambled to her feet. She reached down for Gowthaman’s hand and pulled him up beside her. After one quick glance at her brother she turned away. No use trying to wake him when he slept like he was dead to the world. Since the drumming felt more comforting than threatening, she let Chance sleep.

Morghan emerged from between two massive boulders followed closely by Coralie. Meeting at the edge of camp, the four silently scanned the horizon, straining to discover the direction from which the drumming emanated.

“Have you encountered anything like this?” Gowthaman asked Morghan.

“I have no’. Unless there is a new captive, one who has no’ yet become accustomed to the silence...”

“No, this sounds more like there’s a purpose,” Bree said. “It’s a consistent, even beat.”

Coralie took an eager step forward. “Aye, like the drummin’ Tori uses for a dreamwalk. Quickly, I need water. An’ a place to make a puddle.”

Bree joined Coralie at the pack, grabbing four bottles of the loch water. Gowthaman knelt to scoop out a shallow hole in the dry dirt. When Morghan stood frozen watching the activity, Coralie nudged his side with her elbow as she passed. “Ye contacted Lucidea an’ I, remember? By talkin’ through water into our dreams. If this be Catori, she is in a type of dream. We need the water. Mayhap we can communicate with Lucidea.”

He scratched at his chin. “Who is Catori?”

Corali paused. “Oh, aye, I have no’ had time to tell ye about my sister.”

“Sister?”

“Aye, now either help or move out of our way.”

Morghan chuckled then crouched beside Gowthaman to even out the shallow depression. Bree tossed them a small square of plastic and after they lined the hole, poured in two bottles of water.

Shoulder to shoulder, the four hovered over the small, still puddle. Bree held her breath until Gowthaman took her hand and gave a gentle squeeze. As she released a slow breath tiny impact tremors bounced over the surface, gathered near one edge then smoothed. A slender figure appeared in the distance, moving forward, swiftly growing larger.

“’Tis Tori,” Coralie cried.

When her upper body filled the watery space, Tori stopped, smiled, and began to speak. The drumming continued, throbbing in the background, but no sound carried Tori’s words.

“We can no’ hear ye,” Coralie shouted then made an angry sound of dismay when Tori continued as though she hadn’t heard her sister’s shout. Morghan wrapped his arm about her shoulders.

“Guys, tryin’ to sleep here,” grumbled a muffled voice behind them. Bree glanced at Chance, but he’d turned over to face away from them.

“Do you think she can see us?” Gowthaman asked.

Coralie waved and Tori returned the gesture. “Aye. Can ye hear me?”

When Tori continued speaking, Coralie frowned, then held one hand cupped behind her ear and shook her head. A stricken expression filled Tori’s face. Her image wavered as if seen through a panel of running water then she was gone. The drum continued for five beats, each fainter than the last until the final echo pulled a single circular ripple in the water.

Bree stared at the now still surface and the faint reflections of the four faces bent over the puddle. “How do we get her back?”

“Of more importance, how do we communicate? Share our theories?” Gowthaman touched a fingertip to the water, disturbing the surface.

“We could use hand motions and props,” Bree suggested, but then shook her head. “We don’t know how much she really could see...only Coralie’s face? Her whole body? That would make our game of charades more difficult.”

“Aye,” Coralie agreed. “An’ trying to speak words clearly so that she could read our lips would probably no’ work any better. The ripples cause too much disturbance on the surface.”

Silence enveloped them. Bree sat, winced then leaned sideways and brushed a sharp stone from beneath her. Although they had discussed Morghan’s early communication, and Coralie brought water along in hopes of doing the same now, Bree had never really considered the possibility or implications of communications to other worlds. They had simply planned to enter the world between worlds, find Morghan and take him home. Simple.

At least it should have been simple. She glanced at the others. Morghan and Coralie sat staring thoughtfully at the water puddle. Gowthaman drummed his fingers against his knee, obviously lost in his own thoughts, theories and possibilities.

“When I was able to contact my sweet Coralie or my niece, I did no’ really understand how the connection happened. They were always dreamin’. Is that true,
Eudail
?”

Coralie nodded.

“Yet none of us here were sleepin’ when the drummin’ began.”

Gowthaman lifted his head, and spoke. “Tori was raised in a Native American culture. She is a shaman and able to walk in dream worlds. I believe this is how she came to us. However, the how of her appearance does not concern me as does the why. Why did Jayse or Lucidea feel the need to communicate with us? What new problem has arisen without our knowledge?”

“Whatever it may be, we’ll face it down, Gowtham.” Attempting to ease his obvious anxiety, Bree added a determined smile to her words. “I’m pretty sure she’ll try again, so let’s figure out how we can talk back.”

With direction and focus, Bree felt wonderfully alive again. There was something to do. She didn’t know what, but something. And that was so much better than sitting around and still not knowing what waited around the corner.

A heavy sigh sounded behind her. “You guys have got to be so glad to have me along.”

Caught off guard by the playful egotism in her brother’s voice, Bree chuckled. Turning to face Chance, she watched as he stretched, groaned, fought with his blanket then sat up and rubbed his hands over his face. She laughed again.

“Go ahead and laugh, Sis. I’ll just go back to sleep and won’t tell you the answer.”

She broke off with a squeak and Chance grinned. “Okay then. In the movies—”

“Chance—”

“Hang on. Let me finish. In the movies whenever anyone needs to communicate with someone else, and all the so called normal avenues are unusable, what do they always fall back on?”

He watched her expectantly, then slid his gaze to each of the others, shaking his head. “It’s like how the countdown always stops at one.”

After blowing out a frustrated breath, Bree pointed at him. “Just. Tell. Us.”

“Nightshade would say, ‘Use the code, honey.’”

“Code?”

“Dense tonight, aren’t we? The code. Morse code. If we could hear Tori’s drumbeats but not her voice, and she couldn’t hear Coralie, then it stands to reason she would be able to hear drumbeats from our side. Find something to make a drum out of and use the code. Nightshade did say it might come in handy one day when he made us learn it, didn’t he?”

With that, he flopped to his back then turned on his side facing away from the fire. After pulling the blanket over his head, he waved over his shoulder. “Geez, Bree, you’re slippin’. Leavin’ the answer up to the kid again.”

T
ori listed sideways. Nightshade narrowed his eyes watching until he was sure her spirit had returned from the dreamwalk, tapped a few more beats on the drum then rested his fingers lightly on the taut skin head. Keeping his anxious thoughts contained, he remained silent while Lucidea supported Tori.

Finally the dreamwalker gave her head a shake, straightened and frowned. “They couldn’t hear me.”

With the drum wobbling on his knee, Nightshade leaned toward her. “Start from the beginning...” he glanced toward the ceiling, “...trite as that sounds.”

As he’d hoped, a smile touched her lips although her dark eyes remained shadowed with worry. “I had no trouble finding my way once in the dream. The veil parted for me easily. Maybe too easily.”

“Don’t second guess yourself, honey.”

She gave him a grateful look. “Thanks, Nightshade. Anyway, I was in the world between worlds and I found them right away. But when I tried talking to them, they couldn’t hear me. But, they must have heard the drumming. Otherwise I don’t know why they would have made a connection through water.”

“You’re sure there was water involved?” Lucidea asked.

“Yeah. What I saw was like looking out from under the surface of the loch. When I realized they couldn’t hear me, I lost focus and was thrown back here.”

Lucidea rose from her crouch, helping Tori to her feet as well. “So, we know we can get there. We just need to figure out how to communicate so they know what we’ve figured out.”

“We don’t have much time.” Tori spread her hands.

“A day is long enough,” Nightshade said. ‘After this first contact, they’ll either be waiting for us to try again or try from their side. I’d suggest we stay here until we make contact—or it’s time to go back out to the hill to welcome everyone home.”

Tori nodded. “The water wall really helped focus my dream energy. I’m pretty sure that’s why I found Coralie and Morghan so quickly.”

“Hmm.” Lucidea nodded absently. “I’ve tried to see anything beyond the wall many times since we originally figured out how to use it. But I’ve never been successful. Maybe I should be a little jealous of your success.”

“Oh, I didn’t—”

“Oh hush. I’m glad I thought we should be here and that the wall did seem to help. If anyone can find a use for this thing, I’m delighted. Jayse?”

He appeared from the shadows at the edge of the room. “Darlin’?”

“You haven’t said anything.”

He shrugged. “I’m feeling really out of my element here.”

She crossed to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Poor baby.”

Nightshade turned from the loving couple, stretched his legs out in front of him and asked Tori, “When should we try again, honey?”

––––––––

M
orghan found a mostly hollow tree trunk and dragged it back to the campsite, angling the short length close to their water puddle. While Breanna drew the coded alphabet from her memory, Gowthaman composed a concise message. There might not be much time to pass on information, if they were even able to contact the human world.

Forcing doubt from his mind and replacing the lack with determination, he straightened. Contact between the worlds had been made. Once made, the action could be repeated. Whether they initiated the contact or Tori walked again in a dream world, did not matter. The only thing of importance was the passing of their message.

After altering a bit of wording to make the message more concise, he pictured the words in his mind, committing them to memory. Then he simply sat and watched Breanna.

A tight furrow marred her forehead and she’d compressed her lips to a thin tight line while she tapped a series of patterns against the ground. Occasionally Chance would shake his head, and move his finger against her forearm. She repeated the pattern until they were both satisfied.

Once again he was surprised at Chance’s knowledge and abilities. The young were often underestimated. He was as guilty as any for seeing only the man’s youth and carefree attitude. He had developed a tunnel vision where others were concerned. Gowthaman shook his head. No, not concerning others, only himself. In that lack of vision, he had overlooked much.

The time had come to make up for that lack, for his losses. The lives of others moved in a slow dance around him, but he had not even taken the moments to listen to their music. To understand. To know. In believing himself damaged and at fault, he had wrapped himself in thick, invisible cocoon and hidden away in his beloved library.

Ah, the library. Hidden beneath the desert sands, deep, distant chambers scattered along seldom explored hallways held the knowledge of ages. Of both Faerie and the human worlds. If only he’d had more time. Perhaps the answers needed here were contained in some forgotten room. Perhaps the legends and tales, histories and daily records of other worlds existed in the unexplored dark. Perhaps...

Perhaps instead of hiding in the past he should step into the present. Watching Breanna tap out letters filled him with longing. The present guarded his future.

She glanced at Chance who nodded in satisfaction then beamed at Gowthaman. His heart, his breath, his world froze for the flash of a brief moment. By the gods of the desert, she was his future.

Many times, she had seen him in pain, had taken the brunt of his angry denials, and gone beyond those moments. Even after experiencing the pain of his healing... Unable to do else, he held out his hand.