Chapter 9
9
Werewolves. The beasts staring back at them were massive and terrifying, especially since they were unknown. Where had they come from? Whose side were they on? Why hadn’t they made themselves known before now? Their timing was definitely circumspect, and Morgan’s instincts were screaming at her to get her sister out of danger and back to the caves where she was safe.
Two black wolves flanked the red wolf. The one on the left was smaller with silver fur covering his stomach and soft brown eyes. The wolf on the right was massive, without a single strand of lighter color in the sea of black, but the intelligence in the depths of his pale green eyes held her attention.
The middle wolf’s fur was a deep shade of red, and he had hard blue eyes, reminding her of a faceted tourmaline gemstone. They wore no adornments, unlike the Immortals, but their hair was long and pulled back in either braids or a tail like the Immortals wore. Who were they?
I told Torin about these werewolves. You’d better reach out to Rafael, so he doesn’t get butt hurt.
Morgan threw a quick scowl at her sister before turning her steady gaze back to the werewolves. Rafael, uh, not sure if this is worrisome or not, but Colette, Gwyn, and I are in the square. Three druids decided to confront us, and one second after Gwyn threw a countercurse, three werewolves showed up.
Do NOT engage with them, piquena. Have they said anything or acted as if they were aggressive toward you? And what in the hell is your very pregnant sister doing in the square?
Gwyn has a mind of her own, and I am not her keeper. And, no, they seem to be on our side and actually volunteered to take care of the druids—called them idiots.
Rafael’s rich chuckle soothed her mind. Torin, Makari, and I are on our way—ETA in five.
She relaxed and smiled at the creatures. “If you feel like fighting, then have at them. They can’t be very powerful to have fallen apart on their first campaign.”
The red-furred wolf leaned sideways and nodded, his blue eyes glistening. “I recognize them.” He turned to the middle wolf, whose pale green eyes were mesmerizing, if not startling, as they continued to bore into hers. “Remember the three idiots who came to the prison early on? They brought information regarding two of Morrigan’s descendants—one of her daughter’s children, I think it was?”
“I remember,” his deep voice all but growled as if his throat was too tight or he was holding on by a slender thread.
Morgan threaded her fingers through her sister’s, hoping she wouldn’t say anything. “Whoever these druids are, they’re a menace to society. Unless they want total chaos, throwing out spells in the middle of a crowded square isn’t very smart.”
“Nor is going up against three Fae,” the third wolf added, his dark brown gaze thoughtful. “Strong Fae at that. I felt your magic two blocks away, and if I felt it, others less honorable would have too.”
Morgan swallowed, her mouth dry. Her dome should have stopped the flow of any magic. She replayed the mental spell she used to create the invisible barrier but couldn’t find the error. What had she done wrong?
“Come on, mo charaidean ,” the red wolf said as he lunged around Gwyn toward the druids. “Let’s get rid of them.”
“Have you ever noticed,” the smaller black wolf said to the larger one, “we are only his friends when he wants something? Come on, before he has all the fun,” he added before loping after the red wolf.
The intimidating black wolf continued to stare at Morgan but finally turned, his glare turning toward the far end of the square where Torin appeared, racing toward them. Just behind him was a flash of white and another, all black.
Morgan smiled. “Reinforcements have arrived.”
The green-eyed wolf gave her a slight nod before following the other black werewolf around Colette, who scooted closer to the sisters as the sounds of battle increased. Not wanting it to be a total bloodbath, Morgan reversed the depression spell, hoping the werewolves could hold their own against magic.
Torin reached Gwyn, wrapping her in his embrace as he glared at Morgan. “What were you thinking?” he bit out.
“I tried to get her to leave, but she wouldn’t, so back off,” Morgan said as Rafael appeared. He headed into the melee without a word, but his paw caressed her cheek as he brushed past her.
Don’t forget to strengthen your shield so we are not seen or heard, his voice whispered in her head.
Something wasn’t right when I erected the first one. The werewolves felt my magic. How is that possible? And why is my shield failing already?
You cannot expect to become a master at all spells, even the simple ones, in a few months. You are dealing with two different types of magic, Morgan. You have already learned a lot— His voice broke off with a grunt. We have company. Tell Torin to get Colette and Gwyn out of here before the Ironclaws sense her and the babes.
Morgan turned toward her sister and mate when a large black mass flew by Torin, the energy pushing them backward a few steps as she caught sight of Makari’s impressive shape as he threw himself into the ever-growing fight. “Torin, Rafael said to get Colette and Gwyn out of here. Ironclaws are arriving.”
Gwyn turned her worried gaze to hers. “You’re coming with us?”
“I will follow after I reinforce the magical shield. I need to figure out how to stop the flow of energy from seeping through. Fae magic needs an instruction booklet,” Morgan joked, hoping it would relieve some of her sister’s stress, which wasn’t good for the babies. The last thing they needed was for Gwyn to go into labor during a battle with druids and Ironclaws.
She pushed Colette toward Torin and met his steady amber gaze. “Go. I will be right behind you.” He nodded, pushing the two women back through the barrier and into the throng of pedestrians moving through the square, essentially disappearing in plain sight.
With a loud exhalation, she turned and stopped breathing. They were hopelessly outnumbered. She counted at least ten Ironclaws against the two Immortals and the three new guys. Through the snarling figures, she caught sight of the druids’ bodies on the far side of the barrier, and from their mangled conditions, they were quite dead. Two Ironclaws lay near them.
Inhaling a deep breath, she refocused and tried to concentrate on her Fae magic but faltered when Makari’s black claws eviscerated one of the beasts in front of her. With a loud growl, Makari spun around and tore the jaw off an Ironclaw sneaking up behind him.
Time was running out. Morgan centered herself, forcing all thought and emotion away as she studied the movements of the nearest werewolf. His iron-tipped claws shone in the sunlight as he stepped toward her, his movements almost a dance.
Summoning her sword, she wrapped her hands around the grip, but not too tightly, as the sharp tip followed his side-to-side movement, each step coming a little closer to where she stood.
She gave the Ironclaw a jaunty grin. “I don’t dance, so you’re wasting your time. If we’re battling, let’s get to it, shall we?” she goaded, her prodding rewarded when the beast snarled and leaped out of the way of her weapon, his vicious claws slashing the air in front of her face as he moved to one side.
Using his forward momentum to her advantage, she transferred the sword to her right hand, the blade outstretched, and let the weight of the beast’s body slide along the sharp edge of the blade, slicing deep into his abdomen.
The creature roared in pain but didn’t stop. Whirling around, his wicked claws sliced shallow cuts along her upper back and shoulder before she could twist out of his way. Ignoring the burning pain, she managed to pull back her sword and jerk it in front of her just in time for the beast to impale himself. Snarling, his sharp teeth snapped at her face, but the long blade held him in place.
Morgan scowled as the barrier shivered. She was running out of time and needed to get back to her one job, fixing the dome. The beast’s hot breath slammed into her, the stench giving her gag reflex a good workout.
“Good gods, but your breath is rancid. Haven’t you heard of a toothbrush?” Another wave of the foul air seared her eyebrows, and she muttered a cleansing spell under her breath when a muzzle appeared over the beast’s snout.
Finish him and fix the barrier, or we’ll have even more problems, Rafael said, sending her a mental picture of his jaws snapping at her.
Frustration boiled deep inside her. Would it kill the dratted wolf to say good job at least once or maybe even give her pointers more positively instead of making her feel inadequate and useless?
Temper raging, she twisted the blade to the left and then the right before pulling it from the Ironclaw’s abdomen, along with unidentifiable body parts. Stepping back, the beast dropped to the ground, blood pouring from the fatal wound.
Trying not to gag, she moved backward, not wanting to be caught out in the open, while trying to rejuvenate the barrier, and made her way to the fountain.
Rafael came into view. His steps and leaps through the melee were as fluid as a dancer’s. When he turned, the nearest Ironclaw to him lashed out, his claws slicing through Rafael’s white fur. He never flinched as he sliced through the Ironclaw’s thick neck, the creature dropping next to Makari’s kill.
When Rafael turned, his pristine white fur was drenched with blood. Morgan’s hands clasped over her mouth to keep from crying out and forced her gaze away from the battle as a shimmer rippled through the barrier. She breathed out her fear through pursed lips and turned her mind inward, focusing on Rafael’s lessons.
She remembered the first time she erected a barrier. Slowing her memory, she listened to Rafael’s instructions and realized she had left out two words—unfeeling silence.
Angry that she made such a mistake, she sat on the back edge of the fountain. The barrier behind her fluttered as it weakened. Determined, she cleared her mind. Digging deep, she let go of the doubt and self-deprecation holding her back and reveled as her magic expanded, filling her insides. For the first time since her death, she felt strong and free. She gave her Fae magic free reign.
“Light of day, dark of night.
Surround us with protection.
Keep out sight.
Surround us with safety.
Guard with unfeeling silence.
Bless us, great Lady.”
She immediately felt the difference in the spell as the invisible structure hardened. The barrier’s faint light strengthened, now glowing in the sunlight, the iridescent material pulsing with magic. Before, she heard minute sounds from outside and even the wondrous scents of delicious food from the café. Proud that she had recreated the proper barrier, she had still failed her friends.
“You aren’t fully healed, my dear, and my sister’s magic is powerful to control,” a familiar female voice said.
Glancing up, Morgan jumped up and threw her arms around her grandmother, who looked young enough to be her sister. “I don’t feel worthy of any of it. I don’t feel like myself anymore,” she whispered into Morrigan’s soft black hair, inhaling the subtle scent of fresh-baked pie and almonds. Her stomach growled.
Leaning back, she frowned at her grandmother. “Why do you smell like pie?”
A slight blush stole across Morrigan’s cheeks. “Don’t you dare tell a single soul, but when I get stressed, baking calms me down.”
Morgan smiled. “Now I know where Gwyn gets her baking skills. She does the same thing.”
Morrigan’s beautiful face lit up. “Really? That’s nice to know. When this is all finished, I will spend more time with the two of you and my new great-grandbabies. Nemain and Macha are already planning a surprise baby gift for them.”
Morgan’s stomach flip-flopped as her nervousness returned. “Do you have precog? Can you see how this turns out because it seems grim from my point of view.”
Morrigan cupped her cheek, her hand warm. A slight tingling sensation moved through her face and instantly calmed her anxiety. “You must have faith in your family, both blood and adopted. Most of all, my dearest, you must have faith in yourself. While Nemain helped Rafael save your life, she also knew without a doubt that you could handle some of her powers. It was a selfless gift. While your sister wielded magic with ease, you have always struggled. Your mother worried you would never lose your sense of self to manage your powers.”
“One of the werewolves mentioned daughters.” Morgan met her grandmother’s blue gaze. “I’ve only heard of Mom and her sister… Did you have other children?”
Morrigan glanced up, staring at something beyond the fountain before returning her gaze to Morgan’s. “Many others through the centuries. Too many heartbreaks and too much sorrow. I believe he was talking about you or Gwyn. Now, back to our current situation. I believe the current vernacular is, you’ve got this, girl.”
Morgan laughed and threw her arms around Morrigan’s slender neck. “I love you, Morrigan.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.” She pulled Morgan’s arms down and held her hands in front of her. “Now, we have company.”
Turning, Morgan realized all the werewolves stood together just beyond the fountain. Glancing behind them, she noticed all signs of battle had been erased as if it had never occurred.
The three newest werewolves bowed. “My Lady,” they said in unison before straightening.
“You bless us with your presence, my queen,” the red-furred wolf said.
Morgan caught her grandmother’s startled reaction, which was simply a rising of her elegant black eyebrows, but it was a lot for Morrigan. Nothing ever phased the goddess of war.
“Queen?” Morrigan repeated, shaking her head. “I am not a queen, but I thank you for the honor all the same.”
The three shook their heads, their gazes never leaving her face. Surprisingly, it was the pale green-eyed wolf who spoke. “When we were imprisoned, you got us through the darkness. As a child, my family would tell tales about you and your sisters during the ancient times—against the Fir Bolg at the Battle of Magh Tuireadh in Mayo County. My ancestor was there the day King Nuada lost his hand.”
He pulled a silver chain from his thick neck fur and held it out for them to see. The amulet was circular with a scrolled edge. Morrigan’s face was etched in the center, her expression regal and fierce.
Flipping the amulet over revealed a raven etched on the back. “We will follow you, my queen, unto death. You saved us during our exile and imprisonment, and we will be forever grateful.”
The leaner black wolf nodded. “My ancestor was there that day as well. The three of us are family and have been together since birth, although we don’t claim Garrett half the time.”
The red wolf snarled. “Not funny.”
Morgan pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. She liked the three of them, even the intimidating green-eyed black wolf. He stood thicker than Makari and was a few inches taller, which was impressive. Makari scared the hell out of her, making this new guy beyond terrifying.
The three wolves bowed again to Morrigan, who looked a bit shell-shocked. “While I am quite…surprised, I am also honored. Not many appreciate my abilities or magic and often view me and my sisters as evil. We take it in stride, but sometimes, it isn’t easy to accept when we are trying to do the right thing. War is inevitable in all worlds, and we are good at affecting a better outcome than most other gods.”
Morrigan glanced at Morgan, who nodded. Turning back to the wolves, she smiled. “I would be honored to be your protector?—”
“Queen,” the three werewolves once more said in unison.
“Fine, your queen, although I’m quite sure this is stepping on a few toes. You should ask the Shadow Lands Guardian, who is also your ancestor and the original creation of the Dark Fae.”
Garrett glanced at his friends, shaking his head. “We know of no other guardian or ancestor.”
Torin stepped forward. “I met him in Asgard during the war—World War II, that is.”
The large black wolf stepped closer. “I am Mathayus Cattanach. You are?”
“I am Torin O’Roark, guardian of the Immortals here in Tournai. Fer-Diorich created us during the early Crusades. We made a home base nearby so we can protect the humans against the Ironclaws.”
Rafael moved around Torin and studied the three werewolves. “I am Rafael Cavaliero from Spain, and I was converted in the 1400s during the Inquisition.”
Morgan couldn’t help but admire Rafael. There was something so commanding yet old-world about him. When she first met him, she would have given anything to see what he looked like as a man, but now, with his beautiful silver-white fur, she didn’t care. He was one of the most intelligent beings she had ever met, and that was saying something, considering her family history.
She liked being around him and learning from him. She loved teasing him, pushing his buttons, but most of all, laughing with him. Her breath caught in her lungs, which didn’t seem to work as she admitted what she had been trying to ignore since her rebirth. Dear gods, but she loved him.
As if hearing her realization, his silver gaze met hers. She tried to smile, but it was difficult, and she knew he felt her anxiety. Pay attention to the newcomers. We don’t know who they really are.
Do you sense something I don’t? Rafael asked, turning back to the other wolves.
Nothing concrete, but I feel as if we are missing something. Would it be wise to take them back to the caverns? Strength in numbers sort of thing?
Piquena, can you try to read them?
The only thing I get from any of them is strength and honor. Deceit is there, but I don’t think it’s theirs. Seriously, though, reading them would be easier with my sister. Gwyn’s empathic power is more potent than mine.
Rafael walked around the fountain and stopped in front of her, laying his paw against her cheek. She met his beautiful silver gaze, loving how the dark blue bled into the mercurial pool. “You have the same ability, mi piquena. You must believe in yourself,” he whispered.
She exhaled and closed her eyes for a moment. “I know. Morrigan just told me the same thing. I didn’t know I doubted myself so much. I’ve always been the strong twin.” She frowned, her gaze moving between Morrigan’s and Rafael’s. “What happened?”
“You died,” Rafael answered. “No one who goes through the agonizing death you did returns the same as they were before. Your new life will begin once you accept you are no longer who you were. You are one of the strongest people I have ever known—and the most courageous.”
“I guess I keep hoping this has all been a dream, and Gwyn and I will wake up and have our old lives back,” she whispered, ashamed of her thoughts and feelings. These men suffered tragedies she could never understand and wouldn’t want to. They suffered in bodies that weren’t theirs, isolated from life and losing hope for their future.
Her gaze met Rafael’s, then moved to Torin and finally Makari. “I owe all of you a huge apology. I realize that simple words will never be enough, but it’s all I have for you. I’ve held so much resentment in my heart, and it wasn’t fair to any of you. I have no right to feel sorry for myself or wallow in self-pity.” Her chin shook, and she knew she was about to make a fool of herself by crying, but she didn’t care. “I am so, so sorry,” she whispered.
Morrigan wrapped her arm around Morgan’s shoulders and hugged her. “You were experiencing emotions through your human side. Now, you are wholly Fae and stronger than you know. I am so proud of you, granddaughter. So very proud. Your parents would be, too.”
The slender black wolf stepped forward. “Granddaughter? This woman is truly your granddaughter?”
Morrigan nodded. “She is, as is her twin sister.”
“And you are?” Torin asked the smaller black wolf.
“Forgive me. My name is Angel MacPherson, and the redhead is Garrett MacCowan.” He leaned closer to Mathayus. “We can’t stay here. The barrier will soon fail and we cannot speak in the open like this,” he whispered.
Guess that’s our cue to take them to the caverns. Rafael winked down at Morgan.
“Torin, I can help with that,” Morrigan said. “I assume you will need the other Immortals to hear and decide going forward so I can send everyone to the caverns—inside so the location remains hidden.”
“Thank you, my lady. Do you have a message for Gwyn?”
Morrigan smiled at the self-appointed guardian. “Tell her I love her and to rest as much as possible. We can’t have my grandbabies born too soon.” She clapped her hands and the group found themselves inside Fáelán’s library.
Stay strong, my dear, and believe… her grandmother’s voice filled Morgan’s head, washing away the doubt and replacing it with the nearly forgotten feeling of family.