Earth's Blood (Earth Reclaimed) (4 page)

She twisted her head toward Rune. “I’m sure Fionn didn’t mean anything by it.”

The wolf muttered something, but Fionn couldn’t make it out.

Aislinn locked gazes with him again. Her muscles pulsed around his cock, and her hips writhed in an age-old dance of passion. “Move, damn it.”

He knew her well enough to understand how close she was. He drew back so only the tip of him circled her entrance and held himself there. Her panting breath rasped between them. She pulled down hard on his hips, but he just smiled at her. “How much do ye want me,
leannán
?”

“Not the time for this. You came. I want to. Have to.” She moved a hand from his body, placed it between her legs, and rubbed her clit. Her head fell back against the pillows. Her lips parted, her cheeks flushed. He felt her climax build in the tension of her muscles.

Fionn grabbed her hand, shoved it away, and slammed into her hard over and over again. Her body liquefied around him as her orgasm pounded through her. She cried his name and told him she loved him while her pussy contracted around him. Because he didn’t expect it, his second climax took him by surprise. Carried on the wave of her arousal, he pumped into her, draining himself.

Fionn collapsed on top of her and covered her face with kisses in between crooning to her in Gaelic.

“Watch it,” she murmured, voice still thick with passion. “I understand most of that.”

He rolled off her onto his back. “Good. Then ye know I think ye are the most wonderful, the most beautiful, the most amazing—”

“You can stop now.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I get the picture.”

“Most women like to hear their virtues extolled.”

“Fionn.” She repositioned herself so she was on her side, facing him. “This is not the sixteen hundreds. I am not a pampered female whose self-image rises and falls on the basis of some man’s opinion of me.”

“What would ye like to hear from me?” Truly curious, he turned so he could watch her face.

“Only that you will treat me as an equal partner in all things. That we will stand together. Make our decisions as a team.” She held up a hand. “Think carefully. I am not certain your fellow Celtic gods would approve of including me in what they probably see as men’s business.”

Fionn opened his mouth and then closed it. She was right. While the occasional goddess was included in critical things like strategizing a war against the Lemurians, he was fairly certain it would be an uphill battle to get Aislinn a permanent seat at the table. Then he remembered Dewi. The dragon regarded herself as bonded to the MacLochlainn as surely as the wolf did. It was why Rune hated her. He saw her as competition for Aislinn’s affections.

Dewi was sacred to the Celts.

“It may not be as difficult as ye think,” he began, picking his words carefully. She furled her brows, and he said, “Now stop that. I will always support you, Aislinn. I do not see you as less than me because ye are a woman. I canna control how the others react to you, but Dewi will be your ally.”

The wolf growled.

Fionn got off the bed and walked over to him. He hunkered on his haunches so they were at eye level with one another. “Ye stop it, too. I know ye doona trust Dewi and that ye see her as a threat to your bond with Aislinn.”

The snarling rose in volume.

Fionn laid a hand on Rune’s muzzle. “Ye willna like to hear this, but Dewi’s claim to Aislinn predates yours by a thousand years or better. That dragon has always been linked to a MacLochlainn woman—if one was alive for her to bond with. There were a good many years without any MacLochlainn females. If Aislinn and I have a daughter—which isn’t likely, since males run in the MacCumhaill line—Dewi will be bound to protect her, too.”

“If that’s true,” Rune said huffily, “why didn’t Aislinn know about her?”

“Because Mother hated the dragon,” Aislinn replied. “She fled to America and spent the rest of her life hiding from Dewi. I don’t think Dewi even knew I existed until she found me in the tunnels beneath Taltos.”

“Oh.” There was a protracted silence before the wolf added. “Would you rather be bonded to her?”

Aislinn sprang off the bed in a flash. She knelt next to Fionn and Rune. “No. Don’t ever think that.” She sank a hand into his neck ruff. “I know I made a fuss about not having Hunter magic when you and I first met, but I have accepted the bond. You and I are bond mates. Until death.”

The wolf whined and licked her knees. “That is how it should be. Thank you. I will try to tolerate the dragon.”

Fionn thought it enough of a concession. And a good place to stop. “Thank you,” he told the wolf. Turning to Aislinn, he said, “How about that bath?”

She yawned. “Not sure. I’m pretty tired…”

“I already drew the water. All I need to do is heat it.”

“In that case—” she smiled “—I’m all over it. I can smell myself. And I can still smell that rotten reptile stench the Lemurians exude.”

Fionn rose to his feet. He walked into the adjoining bathroom and dipped a hand into the water while chanting. Marta’s house still had running water from a gravity feed spring out back, but electricity was a thing of the past. Steam was just starting to rise when Aislinn joined him.

“Is it ready?”

“Uh-huh.” He pulled his hand out of the water, and she lowered herself into it, sighing with pleasure. “Thanks for picking up on my cue back there.”

She cocked her head to one side. “What cue?”

“’Tis always best to stop when things are going well—”

“Oh, you mean with Rune.”

He’d just nodded when the bedroom door flew open. Fionn whirled, hands raised to call magic. Gwydion burst into the bathroom, brandishing his staff. It glowed a deep, angry red, which could only mean one thing: extreme danger. “Ye must come now, man. We’re under attack.”

“Cad a tharla?”
Shocked the Lemurians had converged on them so soon, Fionn lapsed into Gaelic to ask what happened.

“Something reanimated the hybrids.”

Not Lemurians after all. At least not directly.
Fionn thought of the ensorcelled pair in the attic room above. They held the gates between the worlds open. What would happen if he and Gwydion destroyed them? Would the dark gods be trapped on Earth forever?

The warrior magician spun and took off at a dead run.

Fionn dragged a robe off the bathroom door, threw it around himself, and raced after Gwydion. He called back to Aislinn. “Ward yourself.”

Chapter Four

A
islinn’s mouth dropped open. Weary from thirty hours without sleep and still tingling from sex, she stared after Fionn, fixated on the empty spot where his body had been moments before. Her mind felt slow and stupid. She dragged her hands down her face, then slid forward and dunked her head all the way under the water. When she came up sputtering, Rune stood in the bathroom door.

“We need to fight,” he informed her, ears pricked forward. “Why are you wasting time in that bathtub?”

Aislinn rolled her eyes and blew out a breath. She gripped the sides of the claw foot tub and pushed to her feet. Water sluiced down her body. She grabbed a towel and draped it around her head. Once she was standing on the tile floor, she wrapped herself in the other terrycloth robe, figuring it would soak up the rest of the water. She’d hoped immersing her head would help clear it, but so far, it wasn’t working.

“Hurry,” Rune urged.

She eyed him. “Hurry where? Fionn told me to ward myself.”

“Well”—the wolf nailed her with his amber gaze—“so far, you haven’t done that, either.”

Aislinn pushed past Rune and walked into the bedroom. She reached for her magic. It was sluggish and slow to respond. She needed rest and food to recharge. Her Seer skill was strongest of the five magics. It was also the one she was least familiar with. Before she’d met Rune and Fionn, she’d seen herself as a Mage with weak Seeker skills. In the few months since meeting up with the wolf and the Celtic god, she’d discovered she had access to all five abilities. Healing came easily as had her Hunter bond with the wolf. The Seer talent—which allowed her to both see into the future and manipulate it—was much harder to control. It also let her go backward in time and make certain changes.

Wouldn’t it be convenient if I could simply erase the last hour? Maybe, if we’d had more warning…

After several frustrating minutes, Aislinn gave up on deploying Seer magic. She was just too tired. Instead, she summoned her Mage gift to ward herself and the bedroom. Inspecting her work, she shook her head, feeling disgusted. It was one of the worst wards she’d ever built. Amateur and full of holes, it was so weak a six-month-old kitten could have punched through it.

“Sorry, Rune.” She reached a hand to the wolf. “I’m pretty tapped out. Let me try that one again.”

The next ward was better. Not good enough for her to risk falling asleep, but… A crash sounded from above her. Then another, louder one. Something shattered. Rune’s hackles rose along his spine. His lips drew back in a snarl.

What the fuck is happening up there?
A couple of weeks ago, she’d attempted to unravel the spell binding the two creatures in their caskets. Later, she’d realized it was fortunate she’d failed. Gwydion had figured out the couple were brother and sister, as well as Marta’s parents. Product of some macabre science experiment, they were human-Lemurian hybrids. Where they’d embraced Lemurian culture and were allied with the Old Ones, Marta had taken the opposite track. She’d been the one who’d ensorcelled her parents. Her journals suggested she hadn’t killed them outright because they were guardians of the gates between the worlds. Gates that had gotten kicked open the night Aislinn’s father was murdered high in the Bolivian Andes. If they closed, there might not be a way for the dark gods to return to their realms.

Aislinn shivered. The dark gods were so beautiful—and so sensual—they were nearly impossible to resist. She’d injured one of them, maybe even killed him, though Fionn and the other Celts thought otherwise. Unfortunately, her success meant they’d lost the element of surprise. The five other dark gods would be far more difficult to catch off guard.
Hell, if what Fionn sensed under Taltos is accurate, they’re not even bothering to wait for us to attack. They’re coming after us.

Another crash. More breaking glass. A shout from Gwydion. Fear blasted through Aislinn, souring her stomach. She tasted bile in the back of her throat, but the adrenaline rush was welcome. It perked her up enough that she stopped feeling like an extra from
Night of the Living Dead.
She dropped the towel and robe to the floor and bent to rummage in Marta’s dressers for something to wear. She couldn’t bear the thought of putting her Taltos clothes back on. They still stank of reptile. Under the Old Ones’ layers of illusion to make them look human, they were nothing but large reptilian-esque creatures. They could marshal magic to alter their appearance, but not their smell.

Aislinn slipped into black sweatpants and a black sweatshirt. A thick pair of red woolen socks provided a buffer between her feet and all the holes in her boots. She made a knot out of her long, wet hair to keep it out of her face and let the ends trail down her back.

The racket upstairs hadn’t abated.

Aislinn stared at the door and muttered, “Should I?” Fionn obviously expected her to wait for him.

“What about all that talk between you two?” Rune asked.

“Huh?” She wrenched her concentration away from what sounded like heavyweights duking it out at Madison Square Garden.

The wolf padded over and shoved his head under her hand. “Remember? When you told him you wanted to be equal and all that.”

“You eavesdropped.”

The wolf made a snorting sound that could have been laughter. “You were right next to me. I have excellent hearing, so I did not need to
eavesdrop
. Besides, there are no secrets between bond mates.”

He’s right. I took a stand with Fionn about being included in everything, and here I am, hiding behind a door.

“Glad you see it that way.” If the wolf could have smirked, he would have.

“Awk. Get out of my head.”

A spate of desperate-sounding Gaelic rang out. She understood the language from her Irish mother. Fionn and Gwydion were losing ground. She turned to Rune. “Okay. We’re going up there. You will do exactly as I tell you. No heroics. And no taking off like you did in Taltos. Understand?”

He just looked at her, nostrils flared and tail high. “I will not make empty promises. I will do what I think needs doing. I am no one’s lackey. Not even yours,
bond mate
.”

Aislinn winced at the sarcasm. “Have it your way. Just try not to get sucked through a vortex into some other world.”

She laid a hand on the door and sent magic spinning outward until she felt Gwydion and Fionn. Woven into a complex pattern, their magic was clean. The other power made her suck in a breath. It was so murky and dark, she couldn’t recognize it, but it didn’t feel like the dark gods or the Old Ones. For a moment, her resolve faltered.
What am I walking into? And what if Rune gets hurt…?

“Stop thinking.”

“Christ. You sound like Yoda.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I loved
Star Wars
. Marta had me watch it with her on DVD.”

“Gawk! Just stay out of my fucking head. I have enough to worry about without you picking up some stray thought and overreacting.”

She pulled her magic close. No point in protecting a room she was about to leave. The ward was easier to reassemble with just her and the wolf at its center. She drew in a deep breath, then another, and blew out any uncertainties standing in her way. The centering exercise had always worked for her. It muted any lingering reservations and helped her focus on staying strong.

No time like the present.
Aislinn turned the knob as silently as she could and let herself into the carpeted hallway. The noise level doubled as soon as she opened the door. It sounded like she was underneath a bowling alley. Because she needed her hands to work magic, she wound a few tendrils of her warding in front of her ears to protect them. The staircase leading to the attic was directly across from the bedroom door. Light flashed from the stairwell. Rune’s warmth hugged her side. Even though he was being subtle about it, she felt him in her mind.

For a moment, she wished Arawn, Bran, and the dragon were there, and then she cleared her thoughts.
Got to work with what I have. No point wasting energy wishing for the impossible.
She waited for Rune to make a snarky comment about Dewi, but it didn’t come. Perhaps even the wolf understood that the dragon’s ancient power—never mind her extensive knowledge—would be useful right about now.

She crossed the hall and started up the stairs. Her mouth was dry. Sweat dripped down her sides, despite chilly air that was doing nothing but getting colder as she mounted the circular staircase. She slowed as she neared the top so she wouldn’t turn into an easy target and make things more difficult for Fionn and Gwydion.
One more step, and I should be able to see something…

Rearing up on tiptoes, she peeked over the top riser. Gwydion was locked in combat with the thing that had been Marta’s mother. The hybrid’s long gray hair was wrapped around the mage’s throat. The woman had her teeth buried in his arm; she swiped at his eyes with her broken, yellowed nails. As Aislinn watched, horror turning her guts to water, the thing circled more hair around the master enchanter’s neck. The greasy strands seemed to have a life of their own.

Her gaze shifted to Fionn. Buck naked, his golden skin gleamed in light that emanated from the empty coffins. He and Marta’s father moved around one another warily. Magic flashed between them. From time to time, Fionn’s worried blue gaze swept toward Gwydion. Aislinn could tell he was trying to maneuver himself close enough to help, but the hybrid blocked him every time.

A gagging, wheezy sound came from the master enchanter. Aislinn pulled magic, intent on sending a killing blow at Marta’s mother. Something dark streaked past her. It took a moment to register that it was Rune. He launched himself at the hybrid, canines sinking into her neck.

An ungodly, high-pitched shriek filled the low-eaved room. Yellow ocher flowed from the hybrid. Gwydion, obviously recognizing opportunity, didn’t hesitate. With his hands freed from holding the hybrid, he pulled a knife from his dark blue robe and severed the hair that was choking him.

Aislinn felt Fionn’s disapproving gaze burn into her. She strode into the attic and threw him a defiant
what are you going to do about it
look before turning her attention to Rune. The hybrid writhed under him, but wasn’t anywhere close to dying. Since the wolf had severed her carotid artery, it didn’t make sense, unless…

“Aye,” Fionn panted, “ye canna kill these things. They died long ago. The power filling them comes from the Old Ones.”

“But I thought Marta left them in suspended animation,” Aislinn said.

“Aye, and there is much we doona know, lass. Tell yon wolf to let go.” Gwydion’s voice was rough. “The problem was the hair. I have things under control.”

“Rune, to me.”

The wolf, looking immensely pleased with himself, sidestepped away from Marta’s mother. His snout dripping yellow gore, he trotted to Aislinn with his tail swishing from side to side. The hybrid made a hideous groaning noise and scrambled to her feet. The groan morphed into a shriek, and she hurled herself at Gwydion.

Aislinn wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she’d put on a coat. It was freezing in the attic. Her breath plumed in the air in front of her. “If we can’t kill them,” she asked, trying to keep her teeth from chattering, “how can we put them back to sleep?”

“If we knew that”—Fionn feinted left to avoid a jolt of magic—“doona ye think we would have done it afore now?”

“You managed to with Bran and Arawn,” she began.

“Aye, but neither of them are here,” Gwydion spat, breathing hard. He and the undead thing circled one another. She seemed more aggressive than Fionn’s opponent. Muddy brown eyes gleamed with cunning intelligence as she tried to pin Gwydion into a corner.

“Lass,” he said, “try the unmaking spell. Do ye know it?”

She nodded. She’d used it a time or two to rid herself of small numbers of Bal’ta, apelike minions of the dark gods. Near as she could tell, it simply scattered living molecules to kingdom come. Except these weren’t living creatures. “Are you sure it will work?” she asked dubiously.

“With a few twists, mayhap,” Fionn answered. “We were close, but the female is strong. We thought she was bound, but she broke through. There are three of us now, though.” Coarse laughter burst from him, and he sent magic skimming toward the male hybrid. “The odds have improved.”

“Four,” Rune corrected.

Aislinn looked around for Bella, only just now realizing the bird’s absence. “Where’s—” she began.

“Asleep downstairs,” Fionn muttered. “I dinna wish to bring her into danger.” He looked pointedly at her for a second before returning his gaze to the hybrid, who was trying to run him through with a rusty saber, apparently having given up on magic for the moment. “At least she stayed put.”

“Only because you cast a spell over her,” Aislinn retorted tartly.

“Enough. We have bigger problems.” Fionn rolled his eyes and jumped out of the saber’s path.

Gwydion wove his hands in a complex pattern and chanted. A spell plaited itself around his opponent. Aislinn threw her magic into the mix and felt Fionn direct some as well. He couldn’t pull all his magic away from the fight. If he did, the creature would have him. As it was, a blast of power from the male hybrid—after the saber clattered to the attic floor—had been far too close for Aislinn’s comfort.

She dragged her concentration away from Fionn and poured everything she had into the unmaking spell. Rune chivvied the female hybrid and forced her to stay in the midst of the net working its way around her.

Gwydion’s expression was grim. The hard line of his jaw twitched as magic geysered from him. A wild, Celtic whoop filled the air. “Aye, a bit more and we’ll have this one corralled. I doona plan to make the same error we made last time.”

He tipped the writhing hybrid into one of the coffins. Aislinn raced forward and slammed the lid. The tenor of Gwydion’s chanting changed. While she didn’t recognize the incantation, Aislinn figured he was sealing the casket. Rune walked casually over to the coffin and lifted his leg. A stream of urine sprayed against the polished metal.

Gwydion brayed laughter. “Aye, and that will surely keep her contained if my magic should fail.”

“You’re welcome.” Rune sashayed to Aislinn’s side.