Chapter 8
8
Morgan, Rafael, and Lucan stood at the edge of the forest, their eyes fixed on the closed front door of the Immortals’ cavern home. Yesterday had been enlightening, but it hadn’t calmed her frayed nerves.
“Returning to the caves to report Zhivko’s visit seemed so reasonable yesterday,” Rafael said. “Today, however…”
“I think I will stay here,” Lucan said. “If you don’t mind, I can watch over the wolves back at your house. You don’t need my presence causing even more problems.” Lucan’s worried gaze never wavered from the Immortal’s home.
Morgan laid her hand on the vampire’s arm. “Lucan, please. These wolves aren’t like the Ironclaws Fer-Diorich controls. While each one here struggles with their past and what they’ve become, they all have immense honor and wouldn’t fault you for something you can’t control either.” Though she wasn’t a therapist, she didn’t like his reaction. The last thing he needed was to hide away.
A faint smile flickered on Lucan’s face, which seemed sadder and lonelier than a smile should convey. “Thank you for that, but I’ll be fine. Crowds aren’t my strong suit, even smaller ones. The bloodlust and all. Go. Tell your friends what we’ve discovered and see if they can devise a workable plan. We’re overlooking something crucial, and I welcome any suggestions.”
With reservation, she and Rafael left Lucan at the forest’s edge and found Fáelán in his library. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him anywhere else. He felt the most comfortable in the book-filled room—something she could understand well. As the most learned of the group, she hoped he would discover what they had not.
When they entered the large cave, Fáelán stood, motioning them to sit at the book-covered table. “Morgan,” he smiled, his hazel eyes glittering. “It is wonderful to see you looking so healthy. After Gwyn told us you had been attacked, we were worried.”
His gaze darkened when he turned to Rafael. “It would have been nice to have an update or two instead of complete silence.” Morgan bit back her smile at the snap in the other wolf’s tone.
“It couldn’t be helped, I’m afraid. It took both Nemain and I to hold her here, and it was almost a month before she was able to move about without falling on her face.”
Morgan made a growling sound deep in her throat. “That’s not how I remember it. I was more than ready to get up and work to regain my strength, but some heavy-handed wolf general decided otherwise and refused to let me do anything.”
Fáelán’s gaze moved between them, a grin on his furry face. “Wolf general?” He laughed. “I like that description—fits Rafael perfectly. Now, tell me why you are here.” He frowned, raising his nose and sniffing the air. “And maybe you had better explain why I smell vampire?”
Morgan’s eyebrows rose. “I’m impressed.” She raised her arm and sniffed, only smelling the forest and fresh air on her long-sleeved shirt. “How can you smell him on us? I don’t smell anything off.”
Rafael exhaled and pointed to his head. “Wolf? Don’t you know canines have the most complex olfactory senses on earth? I thought you knew more about animals.”
Morgan closed her eyes and counted to ten before she responded with something she couldn’t take back. The smartass wolf annoyed her beyond belief. “I do know a lot about animals, but I didn’t know vampires had a certain scent. Wolves, yes. Vampires, no.”
Rafael opened his mouth, but Fáelán raised his paw, stopping him, and Rafael’s jaws snapped shut. “Enough. Tell me why you are here.”
“In a nutshell, I grew up with Lucan but became disengaged when the Inquisition began. I sided with the Papacy, and he the Crown. Needless to say, we saw one another more as enemies than chosen brothers. My boss, Kristof, worked directly under the first grand inquisitor, Dominican Tomás de Torquemada. Kristof used his position and Torquemada’s brutality and fanaticism to funnel the Church’s most loyal and strongest inquisitors. We were sent to an underground prison where Fer-Diorich continued his experiments. I found out later they were targeting specific families only. Those with Celtic backgrounds.”
“And your friend?” Fáelán asked. “What happened to him?”
“He was captured before signing on to help the Crown and hasn’t opened up about it. While struggling through the blood lust, he joined an elite vampire force. Sadly, he was little more than a killing machine during this time. It was almost a blessing when Fer-Diorich captured him, experimenting on his vampire blood. After the Dark Fae was sent back to the Unseelie Court, Kristof and another druid, Perth, took over the experiments. Perth died summoning a demon enforcer. Dago was Lucan’s cellmate.”
Rafael welcomed the hot drink Fáelán handed him, taking a sip before continuing. “Since demons and vampires are a sort of cousin, the blood combined. Soon after, they escaped. We believe Dago was later imprisoned and murdered. His brother, also an enforcer, is heading a group looking for the killers.”
Rafael slumped in his chair before leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I gathered they are also monitoring the Fae courts and Fer-Diorich.”
“So, we are dealing with Fer-Diorich’s homicidal threat, which is difficult enough, but now we also have demons and possibly dark druids to fend off as well,” Fáelán mused, his gaze bleak. “Nothing out of the ordinary around here, is it?”
* * *
One week after returning to the Immortals’ caverns, Morgan relaxed in front of a local bistro in the beautiful Grand’ Place de Tournai. Sipping one of her favorite coffee treats, her gaze roamed the many businesses lining the town square—a picturesque site for regulars and tourists alike.
Sitting under the morning sun made her feel normal when nothing else did. Sipping her café latté, she savored its creamy flavor while watching people stroll by. While a few tourists frantically snapped pictures with their cell phones, most were locals on their lunch hour, which for the Belgian community wasn’t something to rush but rather an experience to enjoy.
She smiled when a group of grade-school children tumbled their way from one end of the square to the other, followed by a frazzled-looking teacher.
Her gaze strayed to her and Gwyn’s storefront. She missed planning and sneaking out on animal rescues. She thought back to that night not long ago. The night everything changed for her and her twin. The night they met Torin.
Glancing around, she admired the ancient architecture, the golden statues and guild houses sparkling in the noonday sun. She wished Gwyn was here with her. Even Rafael would do, but with him currently in the form of a gigantic wolf, it probably wouldn’t be the best idea. Mass panic wouldn’t keep things at bay and would likely trigger the trouble with the troublesome Dark Fae they were trying to avoid.
Her thoughts returned to Gwyn. Day after day, she remained in the cavern, which had to be so difficult on her, especially near the end of her pregnancy. For the last few days, Morgan had noticed the beginnings of the nesting period. It didn’t matter if it was nailed down, Gwyn was moving, straightening, and cleaning everything in sight. No matter how hard her husband tried, even Torin was at his wit’s end. She refused to relax.
Not that cleaning and organizing were unusual for her, but this latest activity seemed odd, even for her twin. Morgan wondered if she should reach out to their grandmother, Morrigan, or maybe even her sister, Nemain, for help or advice. Maybe with her combined Fae and werewolf powers, she was overreacting… Call it instinct or intuition, but she didn’t think so. Something was wrong.
Noticing her coffee was almost gone, she started to raise her arm for the waiter but hesitated as a chill filled her body. She shivered in the sun’s warmth. Casually glancing around, she searched for what or who made her feel edgy, but no one stood out. That is until her gaze swept over a temporary artist’s cart parked near the middle of the beautiful square.
The central fountain was only a few feet from the cart, but there was enough distance between them that the water wouldn’t splatter and ruin the art. It made a beautiful backdrop, but when she focused on the cart’s dark wooden structure, the tingling worsened, freezing the blood in her veins.
“Surprise!” Gwyn laughed, startling her as she and Colette appeared beside the table. Happy to see her sister and one of their newest friends, the chilling sensation seemed to grow. Her pregnant twin eased onto a chair with a wide smile. “I couldn’t stay in the caves one moment longer. I felt like the walls were closing in. Now, tell me what’s put that worried expression on your face.”
Morgan shook her head and met Colette’s dark blue gaze behind her sister. “Can you get me a refill and put whatever you and Gwyn want on my tab?”
Colette nodded, a slight frown marring her pretty face as she glanced at the square’s central fountain. Morgan pressed her lips together, acknowledging the girl’s fantastic sensitivity as Colette once more met her gaze and nodded, her blond curls bobbing in the messy bun she wore on the top of her head before walking to the café door.
Leaning forward, Morgan caught her sister’s hands between hers. “You shouldn’t be here, Gwyn. It’s too dangerous, and the men can’t intervene if something happens.”
Gwyn rolled her eyes, the green sharpening as her irritation grew. “Oh, pshaw. You sound just like Torin. There hasn’t been any sign of that dratted Fae in months, and no one has sensed even the slightest hint of magic since you returned. I’m not worried yet, and you shouldn’t be either. I need this, Morgan. I love the outdoors and miss the sun. I’ve been underground so long, my skin is beginning to glow—and not in an attractive way, either.”
Morgan chuckled. “Now that you mention it, I have noticed your hair losing color, and your skin does seem more transparent. Very noticeable now that you’re outdoors.”
Gwyn’s green eyes widened, her hands grabbing her long ponytail and pulling it in front of her. She frowned, examining the long curls. “Seriously? It’s that noticeable?”
Morgan laughed. “No, silly. I’m just teasing you. Resembling a newt wouldn’t be a good look for anyone, but you are still as beautiful as you always have been.”
Gwyn flipped her ponytail over her shoulder with a loud exhale, then laughed, linking their fingers. “And you’re biased and quite possibly a little vain. We’re identical twins.”
Morgan grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. “I know but it made you smile.”
“Now, before Colette returns with our coffee, tell me more about what happened to you. You have been so vague since you and Rafael got back. And who is Lucan? Did you just meet him?”
Morgan’s easy camaraderie with her sister faded a bit. She knew the moment they returned to the caves, she would have to explain what happened to her during the fight last May. “Who’s watching little Lucas while you’re galivanting around the countryside?”
“If you must know, Kilian. Don’t try to change the subject. I’m not going to stop until you tell me, Morgan. We always tell each other everything, but that stopped when I got pregnant, and our world began imploding. I miss you.”
Morgan shrugged. “I miss you too, but you have Torin now, which is as it should be.”
Colette returned and set three steaming mugs of coffee in front of them before sitting in the last empty chair. She glanced back at the fountain before taking a sip of her coffee. “So, what did I miss?” She glanced at Gwyn. “Did you force Morgan to tell you everything yet?”
Morgan raised one eyebrow, her unblinking gaze resting on Gwyn’s pink face. “Force?” She made a rude sound in her throat. “Seriously? You haven’t been able to force me to do anything since we were six.”
Colette chuckled. “When I went to the caverns to pick up Gwyn, I noticed Rafael and a very handsome man talking at the cemetery fence. Who is he?”
Morgan bit back her smile at the apparent curiosity in the blonde’s tone. “What did he look like?” she asked, reaching for Gwyn’s free hand and squeezing it.
Colette waved her hand next to her head. “Oh, you know, the handsome hero in every romance book with sultry eyes and gorgeous long black hair. He’s the perfect male until he opens his mouth and rudeness emerges.”
Gwyn laughed. “That does sum up most book heroes. Until the end when the woman of their dreams changes their opinions, reforming them into wonderful partners.”
Morgan scoffed. “Yeah, in books . Look who we have surrounding us. They are not the easiest bunch of males. Can you imagine any one of them—Makari, for example—softening his caveman stance for anyone?”
Gwyn sipped her coffee, her gaze filled with sorrow. “You weren’t there for the funeral of Torin’s brother and Lucas’s twin sister, Lia. Makari took care of Lia’s headstone. He found the pink granite for the angel and had the poor mason redo it several times. They’ve all lost everyone they ever loved, so please try to be a little sympathetic to their plight.”
Morgan’s grip tightened around her mug, the warmth soothing her rattled nerves. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know anyone died. Rafael never told me. Who was Torin’s brother? I didn’t even realize he had one.”
“Kellen. He used to idolize Torin growing up. They were very close—like us. Once Torin and the others escaped Fer-Diorich, they returned to check on their families but found no one alive. He thought his entire family had perished in the roundup, as did the other wolves.”
Gwyn twisted her cup before taking another sip. “The Dark Fae held Kellen’s mate and their twins in stasis while forcing him to do horrible things. He was the Ironclaw who kidnapped me at the baby store. In the end, just before he died, he admitted he had broken free of the Fae’s control but couldn’t risk his babies.”
She swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. “Little Lucas cries for his daddy in his sleep almost every night. It’s heartbreaking.”
“Oh, Gwynnie, I am so sorry. I would never have said something so mean had I known. Makari really made the poor mason redo the headstone?”
Gwyn nodded. “Three times. He wanted it to be perfect for her.”
“Oh, how am I going to push his buttons now?”
Her sister smiled and covered Morgan’s hand with hers. “Keep pushing them. Torin does the same thing to keep him here. They all are losing hope of ever changing back to their human form. Living with their wolves isn’t easy. The animal isn’t a normal wolf. Torin and Fáelán believe Fer-Diorich tweaked the DNA in some of the experiments, possibly adding a small amount of demon DNA, which is why the Ironclaws are so ferocious in battle. It also explains why a few of our guys are having difficulty controlling their darker side.”
“My goddess,” Colette muttered. “That’s horrible. The few times I’ve been around them, I’ve sensed a lot of anger, but I figured it was because of the situation, not their DNA.” She set her empty cup on the table and pushed it toward the middle. “Have you asked Rhona if there’s something magical that can be done to help them? There are all sorts of spells for controlling emotions. I’m sure she could try something.”
Gwyn smiled, pushing her empty cup next to Colette’s. “That’s a marvelous idea! It might give them the peace they need until they find their mates. I wish we could figure out if the women are alive and of age. I’ve been worried about the ones who will need to wait decades for their mates to grow up—if they’ve even been born. The wolves have dealt with this for more than a thousand years.”
“Gwyn, you shouldn’t be worrying about anything but bringing healthy babies into this world,” Morgan said, trying to ease the building sorrow around the table. She stacked the three empty cups and added her first cup on top. “Besides, we don’t even know if finding their mate will reverse the curse.”
She rubbed the blossoming ache in her temples. “There must be something more to it than just that. Everything Fer-Diorich has done has been convoluted and layered. I’ve seen how patient each wolf is with Lucas. He gives them peace, and so will your babies. They still have time…” Her gaze moved to the cart beside the fountain, the worrisome chill returning in waves.
Moving her hands under the table, she flexed her fingers to keep them supple against the invading cold. She glanced at Colette as what looked like white paint leached through the dark blue of her eyes until there was no color left, and her eyes were entirely white.
“Gwyn,” Morgan said, grabbing her sister’s wrist and nodding toward Colette.
“They come,” Colette said in a monotone.
“Druids three with powers unbound. The twins their goal by the Fae’s demands. To win, draw on the demon’s blood in the name of Nemain.”
Gywn’s worried gaze met Morgan’s. “Why Nemain and what demon’s blood? What is she talking about?”
It was futile to keep the truth from her twin. “When I was attacked during the battle at the castle,” Morgan answered. “I died, and Rafael tried to convert me, but my spirit was too far away, so Aunt Nemain helped him by adding her own blood and magic.”
She ignored her sister’s pain-filled moan, needing to remain strong like she had done her entire life. She had always been afraid if she started crying, she would never stop, so she had never allowed herself to begin.
“I no longer know exactly what I am, but my magic is stronger—and darker. Rafael thinks the darkness comes from him, but he hasn’t shared why. I’ve spent the last few months healing and training. Not telling you or being with you for so long was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, and I’m sorry for that. I felt like part of me was missing. I can’t imagine Rafael having demon blood or why, but that is a possibility. It could also be Lucan. He and a demon enforcer were imprisoned together and had to be creative while trying to stay alive.”
Gwyn cradled Morgan’s cheek with a sweet smile, her eyes brimming with tears. “I missed you too, sister mine. Together, we can get through anything. Adding Morrigan and Nemain to the mix will make our magic unstoppable. I’ve always believed in you, and I tell my husband that you can achieve anything you desire—your belief in yourself is that strong. We both can. Although pregnancy hormones are affecting my ability to sense what’s around me, I can still tell something is bothering you, so what’s coming our way?”
Morgan exhaled. Gwyn would not stop until she told her. “Right before you and Colette arrived, I felt an uneasy sensation, a morose foreboding—not evil, but close. The feeling was strongest near that artist’s cart by the fountain.”
She laid her hand on her sister’s arm. “You can’t fight, Gwyn. Not pregnant. Like the Dark Fae, these druids can use the babies against you. Maybe even hurt them. Call Torin to you. Now .”
“Nothing surrounding you two is ever easy,” Colette muttered, whose eyes had returned to their normal deep blue.
Morgan willed whatever was behind the cart to reveal itself. With her unblinking gaze on the cart, three men emerged. She studied their cold demeanors, slender builds, and dark authority with a narrowed gaze.
Sending a whisper of power toward them, she tried to sense how much magic they had and if she could counter it. Like a whiplash, their darkness hit her, and she realized they were dealing with not novices but three powerful Druids. One for each of them... The three women were in trouble.
The druids formed a straight line in front of the fountain, the water spray flying in a wide arc behind them. They ignored the people mulling around the square and focused solely on them.
Inhaling a calming breath, Morgan called on her Fae powers and created an invisible dome around their small group, hiding them from view. The last thing they needed was widespread panic. She also didn’t trust the druids not to use the people as weapons or, worse, kill them.
She knew she should call out to Rafael, but she wanted to prove to herself and him that she could handle her newly gifted powers. Worst-case scenario, she could call on Nemain for aid—if the goddess heard her.
Standing, her legs shoved the chair back as she stepped away from her sister and Colette. She had to keep the druids’ attention on her and not her sister. If the druids were in league with Fer-Diorich, and she believed they were, learning there were more descendants of Morrigan would elate him.
Sensing the growing power beside her, she growled in frustration. Gwyn, you cannot be in this fight. Think about your babies!
My babies have incredible powers and can help. Besides, I’ve learned a few things while hiding in the caverns. Rhona and Colette taught me how to use illusion to hide my condition. Only those closest to me can see that I’m pregnant.
Morgan wasn’t convinced, her gaze darting sideways—her twin’s wide belly still very much evident. And Colette? The last time I heard, she only had visions. How magical is she?
Gwyn wrapped her hand around Morgan’s arm and gave a small squeeze. She is the guardian of a Celtic hallow. Actually, she is the hallow—the stone or prophecy. During the battle, Rhona shared—or transferred—we aren’t sure which, her ability to call the sword of Nuada.
Morgan inhaled. Not the Sword of Claiomh Solais?
The same. And she is very adept at using it. We are safe with her, sister. Now, what are we going to do?
“Against druids?” She glanced at Gwyn. “We fight with all the magic in our arsenal and maybe even some we have no idea how to use.”
“That’s not discouraging,” Colette muttered. “The men are getting anxious, so if we’re going to do this, we had better get started.”
Morgan grinned and waved at the druids. “Hi, guys! We noticed you were looking in our direction. Did you want to talk to us about something?”
“That’s a very interesting beginning,” Gwyn said, chuckling. “You just pushed their frustration to a new level, though. Look at their scowls.”
Watch and learn, sister mine. Watch and learn. Morgan took a step closer, keeping her small, knowing smile as if she had a secret. “What did you expect?” she asked the men, her voice only slightly raised. “Women who were meek and docile? I’m certain the Dark Fae told you about us—that we’re fighters.”
Keeping her arms straight at each side, she splayed her hands outward and called forth her magic, letting it flow subtly toward the druids. Cords of golden webbing wrapped around their legs, binding them together, then reached upward, encircling their arms and pulling them tight against their sides.
Surprise showed on their faces. The middle man’s mouth moved, and the webbing disintegrated, tiny golden sparkles dancing around them like fireflies before each light blinked out.
The man to the left raised his wand and mouthed a spell. A heaviness weighed on them, and doubt filled Morgan’s mind, turning her confidence into insecurity. Gwyn’s grip around her elbow tightened as her sister countered the spell, transferring it back to the druids.
They frowned and glanced around the shielded dome as if wondering what they were supposed to do next. Gwyn snickered. “I should have added a serious dose of depression so they wouldn’t have the energy to continue.”
“Still can,” Colette added. “I’m not without my own abilities, you know.” She concentrated on the druids, her gaze narrowing. Morgan felt her friend’s power. It slowly built but gained momentum. A few seconds later, the force hit the druids in the chests like a tidal wave. Each man grabbed his shirt and bunched it in his fist as they stared at them wide-eyed. The man on the right shivered, tears running down his face.
“Oops, too much. I forgot to dial down my magic. Rhona is always nagging me about control.” Colette turned her innocent gaze to the sisters. “How am I supposed to practice when this keeps happening?”
Morgan laughed, liking the blond even more. “A person after my own heart. I hate practicing.” She glanced at the druids, arguing among themselves while trying to find the energy to continue. The man on the right still hadn’t stopped crying, and Morgan knew her tender-hearted sister wasn’t liking it. “Now, what are we going to do with them?”
“Well, how about you lovely ladies let us deal with these idiots?” A deep baritone voice said behind them.
As one, the three women whirled around and found themselves staring at three unknown, giant werewolves.