Chapter 5 #2
A cold, sick feeling coiled in Reaper’s gut. “Why the fuck would The Tuatha Dé Danann take him?” With his accent he knew he butchered the name. Both Fionn and Oisín’s winces confirmed it.
Fionn’s voice was a low growl. “They took what they believe is theirs. Cian is of the Stag Clan. His bloodline is... complicated.”
“Complicated how?” Reaper’s molars ground together as he fought not to strangle the pair of them.
At this point he barely recognized his own voice, because it was filled with a weird-ass snarl.
Someone better teach these fuckers how to provide the intel for a mission brief.
It shouldn’t be this freaking hard to find out what they needed to know. “And what is that sulfur smell?”
Fionn’s eyes narrowed. “His father is Dian Cecht. He is both leader and physician to the Tuatha Dé Danann. Cian was never meant to be one of us. But in the warrior games, he earned his place in my Hounds and gave me his allegiance. It has been a bone of contention between the two of them since.”
Dysfunctional families exist in the land of the forever young, too.
Who knew?
“Is that it then?” What did it mean for the marks growing up his arm? Or for the ones Cian surely had too?
“He is of their blood.” Fionn crouched and pointed to a disturbed piece of ground. “Some would say it is their right to claim what is theirs.”
Fuck that.
Reaper took a step forward. A snarling growl of rage hammered in his throat, demanding release. “Can we get him back?”
“Why is it you want him back, warrior?” Fionn asked. “If he is to die because you deny the bonds of the Grá Croí?”
Shit.
He knows.
“Will he not die anyway?” Viper asked. “I mean, if the bond is not completed?”
Oisín exchanged another glance with his father before answering.
“In the old days, before we came here to Tír na nóg, the Tuatha Dé Danann’s magic was stronger.
They draw their power from the ley lines and the magic of Eire.
Coming here muted that as the veil diminishes the magic a little.
But nobody knows if that’s enough for them to break a Grá Croí bond that has started. ”
“Wait.” Juice’s face darkened. “Has a bond ever been broken?”
“Once,” Fionn replied. “But that was back before the world was controlled by ice and fire, the seas were lower, and both the Fianna and the Tuatha Dé Danann were at the peak of our power.”
“Not since before the Ice Age, then.” That didn’t bode well for Cian. Reaper glared at Fionn and Oisín. “Why the hell would their leader risk his son’s life?”
“The ways of the Tuatha Dé Danann are a mystery even to us.” Fionn shook his head, “The bond of the Grá Croí is one of our most sacred rituals. It cannot be interfered with or both will die.”
“What happens to Reaper if they manage to break the bond?” Viper shifted closer to Ward. No doubt, even the thought of breaking such a bond was distressing to the newly bonded commander.
“Instant death.” Fionn’s voice was filled with sympathy. “I only know the ritual was performed once, and at that time, the non-family member died. The other went mad after three hundred years. He eventually changed into a swan and went to live on Loch Derg.”
Fuck that.
Dying isn’t on my shit-to-do list this year.
He might not be entirely sure this bond shit was for him, but he also wanted to be the one to make the choice. No magic fairy daddy was going to make it for him. “Where will they take him?”
Oisín glanced at Fionn and waited for him to grant permission with the dip of his chin.
“Our best guess is they will take him to their stronghold at the foot of Galtee Mór. There are standing stones near the village of Burncourt. To break the bond and not kill him, they will need to consolidate their power. The best place for that to happen is at the stones on Hill of the White Crows.”
Reaper didn’t know what the hell a Hill of the White Crows was, and he didn’t care. All that mattered was that Cian was in danger, and for some fucked-up reason, that made his blood boil. “Then what the fuck are we standing around for?” He turned to Viper. “We going or not?”
Viper didn’t hesitate. “Let’s move.”
The warriors of the Fianna didn’t look thrilled at the idea of humans tagging along, but Fionn gave a sharp nod. “We ride hard, and we fight harder. Cian is pledged to me. To take him is an insult to me and to all Fianna.”
Reaper didn’t give a shit about their opinions. He had a warrior to save. Even if he didn’t want to admit to himself why. The mark on his arm was pulsing in time with his heartbeat, each throb reminding him that his hesitance caused this.
It’s my fault he was taken.
It was all kinds of fucked up. He didn’t understand the hows and whys of it, but when a wave of rage blasted through him, he knew it came from Cian.
Fury simmered in his veins, and he was moving before he realized it, his boots eating up the distance between him and the Fianna warriors who parted for him, their expressions a mix of awe and wariness, their murmurs following in his wake like the rustle of leaves before a storm.
“A new Wolf Walker is among us.”
“The bond calls to him.”
“Cian’s Grá Croí has come.”
Reaper ignored them all. The world had narrowed to a single, blinding point: find him.