Chapter Nine #3
I broke off. Respen lay sprawled, sightless eyes fixed on the ceiling. I pulled away from Dearg’s comforting hold to reach out with my magic. There was no life force in him at all. Whatever hell she’d plunged him into as she worked to drive him mad had finished him. “He’s gone.”
“But you’re not.” Dearg dragged me back into his furry werewolf arms and hugged me hard enough to make my ribs creak. “Because you’re strong as hell. Much, much stronger than either of those monsters.”
I snorted, not buying it for a second. “Yeah, right.”
“I mean it,” he told me. “I could feel her bearing down on you like an industrial vise.” Dearg nodded at Respen. “He broke. You didn’t.”
“Neither did you,” I pointed out.
“I would have, if it hadn’t been for you.”
“You underestimate yourself,” the tiny dragon said, looping his tail around Dearg’s neck in a distinctly possessive hold.
“You’d have broken her grip and killed her eventually.
Fortunately, you didn’t have to.” He gave me a pleased look from slitted red eyes.
“You make a perfect couple. I shall find you quite useful.”
“Oh, fuck no, you will not!” Dearg began, but the tiny beast had already disappeared back into his fur with a flick of his tail, no doubt heading for his accustomed perch on the prince’s biceps.
I shook my head. “Matchmakers. We’re neck-deep in matchmakers.”
Dearg grinned back. “I don’t need any matchmakers. I know my match when I find her.”
He stood and stepped back a pace. Light blazed and he was back in Sidhe form. I scrambled to my feet, knowing what he wanted, and leaped into his arms.
The kiss was hot and luscious and wonderful.
* * *
I felt a little sick as Dearg and I stepped through the dimensional gate into the hallway outside the forge.
Though I still wore my uniform -- wrinkled and smelling of smoke and magic -- his transformation had left him dressed in the clean jeans and the black tee he’d been wearing before he transformed at the crime scene.
The jeans were tight enough that the sight of his muscular ass was a welcome distraction.
As bad as I hated family notifications, I’d never had to do one with my own grandmother.
We found Maeve sitting on a bench, Guinness in her lap as she petted the small dog. When she saw us, her eyes lit with relief and she put the dog down, springing up to meet us as if eager for a hug.
Then she caught sight of the two floating biers following us through the gate. Siobhan and Respen lay on them, appearing no more than asleep. Maeve’s face fell as her eyes went glassy with tears.
Guilt stabbed me right in the heart. “Grandmother, I’m so sorry.” I started to reach for her to give her that hug, then hesitated. Maybe she didn’t want to embrace her daughter’s murderer…
Maeve must have sensed what I was thinking because she made a choked sound and dragged me into her arms. Her strong body shook just once, then steadied again. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m the one who didn’t take care of my own mess.”
“I wish we’d had a choice.” I stepped back to wipe the heels of my hands over my eyes. It was odd. I hadn’t felt anything when I’d killed my mother, yet now guilt and regret seemed to choke me.
“Why didn’t you take care of your own mess?” Dearg demanded.
“Dearg!” I snapped. That’s the Mother of Fairies you’re smarting off to!
He ignored me, obviously too pissed to care. “You had the blood dagger,” he continued, glaring at Maeve. “You could have broken the geas and killed the bitch yourself instead of making Iona do it.”
Maeve winced, shame in her eyes. “Do you have children?”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You know I don’t.”
Grandmother moved across the corridor to sink back down on one of the benches there. “Siobhan was claimed when she was a child. And the goddess who claimed her…”
I frowned. I knew nothing of this. “Claimed?”
“When you’re born with the potential to become a god, there’s a period in childhood where any of the incorporeal deities can claim you.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said, startled.
Maeve sighed. “We don’t advertise it. We have very little control over who claims us, and that knowledge can…
eat at a child.” She gave me a fractional smile.
“I was lucky -- I was chosen by Ishtar, the goddess of war and fertility. I became her ninth avatar, the immortal embodiment through which her power and will manifest. Much later, Ishtar also laid her hand on you. Since you’re half-divine, Ishtar can use you as Cachamwri uses Dearg. ”
I glanced at Dearg, who didn’t look surprised. “But he’s not a demigod.”
He shrugged. “No, but I did inherit some of the divine ancestral blood from the first of the Cachamwri kings all those centuries ago.”
“Yes,” Maeve said, rising to go to her daughter’s bier.
“When Siobhan reached the age of divinity, she was chosen by Lyssa, goddess of rage and madness.” The goddess reached down to stroke Siobhan’s hair.
A tear fell on the still white face. “I tried to guide her to a less destructive path -- sometimes an avatar can refuse to indulge their deity’s more lethal impulses -- but Siobhan failed and went mad.
I did everything I could to stabilize her.
Sometimes it seemed to work, as when Conal and Helene captured her. But her sanity never held for long.”
I sat back, frowning. “Mother did seem more stable when I was small. That’s when my father was with us.” I thought of Ivasaar Adkrana -- so tall and handsome and kind. “But as time went on, she got worse. I was five when she snapped and killed him. I always thought it was something I did.”
Maeve shook her head. “No, child. It was Lyssa. I knew what I’d eventually have to do -- that’s why I added the spell to Blood Drinker to take the geas off.
But I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to…” Grandmother looked up at Dearg, tears swimming in her eyes.
“She was my child. So sweet when she was a girl -- so endlessly kind and caring, much like Iona. I feared if I discovered I couldn’t do it… ”
“You were right -- I Saw the results.” Cachamwri’s voice was deep, resonant and rich. And it wasn’t coming from the Mark.
We turned to see a man standing in the corridor, though I hadn’t sensed a gate opening.
He was dressed in dark blue court garb trimmed in silver, sapphires and blue topaz glinting across his broad chest. A faint blue-scale shimmer adorned his broad cheekbones, and his glowing blue eyes had slit pupils like a cat’s.
What I’d taken for blue hair proved to be iridescent feathers.
“Cachamwri!” Dearg breathed, hitting his knees and bowing his head. I did the same a little more reluctantly. That lizard’s been pulling our strings this whole damn time.
The two gods ignored us, busy studying each other. “Well met, Maeve,” the dragon said. “It has been centuries.”
She studied him warily and dipped her head. “Welcome to my palace, dragon god. And thank you for alerting me you planned to come.” She paused. “That could have ended… badly.”
“And my thanks for permitting me through your wards.” Cachamwri propped his fists on his hips and turned to look down at us.
“You did well, my Sidhe, averting the future Lyssa was determined to bring into being. Had you not succeeded, we indeed would have been lost.” He looked at Maeve and bowed.
Actually bowed. “And you were right to give the blade to Iona. I Saw the alternative future when you attempted it yourself. You’d have tried to do your duty, but you’d have hesitated a split second too long.
Siobhan would have killed both you and Iona. ”
I was relieved to see the grief and guilt ebb in my grandmother’s eyes. She bowed back. “Thank you.”
Cachamwri turned a brilliant smile on Dearg. “And if you hadn’t obeyed me and become Iona’s guard without hesitation, Respen would have ambushed and killed you on your way to deal with your cousin. Then, just as Siobhan intended, he’d have taken your place and murdered your parents.”
Dearg stared up at him, going pale as the blood drained from his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because if I had, you’d have jumped the gun trying to kill the bastard -- and died yourself.
” He shook his head, his tone dry. “Visions are tricky bitches. Knowing when to obey them and when to ignore them -- and guessing wrong -- can destroy you faster than knowing nothing at all. I had to show you just enough to spur you to act without losing you to Lyssa’s madness. ”
Dearg and I exchanged a wide-eyed, shaken stare.
The Dragon God cocked his head in a gesture that looked more reptilian than Sidhe. “So I am most pleased with the way you both carried out your duty.”
“Thank you, my Lord,” we chorused.
“Now, if you will excuse me, I must away to my love.” He grinned, displaying an un-Sidhe-like mouthful of very, very sharp teeth. “Semira grows impatient for my company, though not as impatient as I am for hers.” A flare of multicolored light exploded around him.