Blood In Fire (Celtic Elementals Book 2) (32 page)

There had been very few back then. Abhartach had been wary of giving Lugh cause to investigate this new race and so had been stingy with his creations. He made few and allowed them to turn less.

When she had brought him Áedán that fateful night six years later, Abhartach hadn't turned anyone personally in over 500 years. But he had been more than willing to make an exception when she offered him Áedán. The demon had been disgustingly ecstatic.

That had been his last birthday as a human. Seven and twenty. Every day he was growing older, as humans did, but there had been no reason to be concerned yet.

So Bav had thought, until she'd used the scrying pool early that evening.

She'd been spying on him, as she did almost every night.  He was with his daughter again, they were chasing each other around that white washed hovel by the sea.

Two curly golden heads shining in the firelight…

Ti'rna No'g

899 A.D

The rose-tinted waters darkened before her eyes. The scene in the little house dimmed. At first Bav thought the fire was merely dying.

Then the greyish cast on the water deepened, Isleen's form vanished and Áedán's face slid dead center of the reflection. She'd seen this before.  Hundreds of times. Thousands.

NO! Not him.
Not yet.

His eyes looked into hers, those beautiful eyes, and even though she knew what would happen next, Bav sobbed when his hand lifted to rub his chest. In the next instant, those eyes went blank and staring.

She fell to her knees by the basin, hysterical.

Not yet, but soon. She couldn't pinpoint the hour or the minute, she never could. But she knew without a doubt he would be dead before the sun rose again.

So.

She would save him, she could push death away. That was in her power. She had done it before and she could do it again. Again and again if need be!

Getting to her feet, Bav rubbed at her cheeks, laughing at her own foolishness. Until she looked in the basin again and the terrible truth hit her.

Yes. This time and the next time, maybe. But Áedán's heart was giving out. What if one day she missed it? What if one day she wasn't there to save him? What would she do
then
?

For a long, long time Bav lay there, leaning over the basin, her eyes disturbingly dull. It was unacceptable, terrifying. But—

What could she do?

The one thing gods could never do was make a human one of them. It wasn't possible to make a human immortal. It just…wasn't….

Wait. A thought occurred to her…slippery and dark with possibility.

But that…that would be
wrong
. Wouldn't it?

Bav shook her head. She was a goddess, for Danu's sake, she made her own right and wrong and…

“I canna lose him,” she whispered to herself. She watched him play with the child, wanting to scream. The easy love between them. The way the girl basked in his affection, soaking it up like a flower in the sun…

Her stomach burned with jealousy as the idea grew in shape and form.

Bav knew the Fomorian half-blood’s unholy interest in Aidan, which she saw as a twisted form of her own pure love. She knew of the creature's powers, how he could exchange blood with humans and make them virtually indestructible. Some of them had lived for hundreds of years already and they were still strong…so very strong.

If Áedán were like them, he would be safe.
Safer
anyway. So much easier to protect.

Yes, she could use the demon to save him. Áedán wouldn’t resist, not to save his own life, surely. And if he did…her eyes narrowed on the laughing girl’s face and her lips tightened.

He could be persuaded.

She touched the reflection in the pool with a forefinger, watching as the reflection rippled and vanished, ignoring the coldness in her belly. It couldn’t be wrong to save him, it just couldn’t. And even if it was, did she really care?

Nothing could be wrong when it came to love.

Du'n Dreach-Fhoula

Abhartach watched the woman from the window of the highest tower in the castle less than an hour later. She vanished in a streak of green fire as soon as she cleared the doors.

He thought of what she had offered him and he gripped the ledge so tightly stone cracked. His. His to break, to burn, to mold. He would snap that spine of steel and forge it into his own image. His mouth watered in anticipation.

They would meet at the tree and there he would make an end, at last.

Northern Uí Néill

Áedán tucked Isleen in her bed, after two extra tales and about half a dozen extra kisses. He nodded at Eunys, but made his way outside. He wanted to feel the sea on his face, he needed the air. His chest felt tight, as it often times did lately, as if something unseen were squeezing him from behind.

Shutting the door behind him, Áedán walked down the path, the stone path had a dull glow in the moonlight. The waves crashed on the shore and the breeze was fresh and sharp in his lungs, but the tightness wouldn't ease. For some reason it grew worse and he stumbled.

Before he could hit the sand, something did wrap around him. Soft and strong, a woman's arms. Áedán turned his head, trying to see her face but darkness slipped over him like a velvet hood and he couldn't breathe…

When Áedán opened his eyes again, he knew exactly where he was.

"No.
NO!"
He struggled, trying to believe it was merely the old nightmare come to haunt him again. That part of his life was
over
. He would never, ever have to go through that again, never hear that voice…

"So nice to see you again, my boy. It's been far too long."

One of the shadows surrounding him moved, and with a pang of pure terror Áedán saw the familiar reddish sheen of those awful eyes.

"Get away from me!" He wrenched his body again, but he couldn't move. Something was holding him down. No,
someone.
Another set of eyes flashed in the moonlight. Flashed green.
Bav?

He'd not seen her in a long time either. He'd rather hoped he'd seen the last of her after what happened in the encampment.

It still made his skin crawl, how she'd tricked him into sleeping with her. She'd finally gotten a taste of him…and gotten his utter revulsion in return. Áedán's lip curled as he stared at her now.

Yes, once every so often, he would get an itch between his shoulders, that warning of unwelcome observation. But he had told himself he was mad, that she must have given up all hope of him returning…whatever it was she felt for him after that night. He had been utterly vicious when she had revealed herself the morning after that little farce.

Why would she come back now?

Why couldn't she just leave him alone?

Áedán knew why though, maybe he had even known as a child when Uncle Ruad had told him those tales; those sad, beautiful and twisted tales.

There was something wrong with her, something missing, something that craved love, yes. But also something worse. Something he realized abruptly he had given her time and time again, without realizing it. Exactly as Cúchulainn had.

Pain.

"Bav.
No.
What are ye doing?" He struggled against her again, but the arms of the goddess were impregnable.

"Áedán, ye must do this. No' for me, but fer yerself. I saw ye, my love. I saw ye dead."

For the first time Áedán stilled. Abhartach had slunk back, leaving them alone, only the shine of his eyes were visible in the dark. That anticipatory shine. Áedán shuddered and forced his focus back on Bav.

"When? How?"

"Ye'll never see the sun rise again. The how I donna understand exactly, 'tis something wrong inside yer heart, something broken tha' is giving out at last…

"What does it matter? Áedán, it only matters that ye save yerself. If ye ask him, if ye free him by asking...then ye can be safe."

His mind whirled, Áedán was barely listening now.

Death? He was going to
die?
But that was ridiculous, he was young yet and strong…and….

Áedán knew that young men died all the time, no matter their strength or lack of it. And he remember that feeling in his chest tonight…

He looked into the goddess's eyes, trying to discern if she were lying yet again. A different fear than the one already coating his tongue teased its cold way up his spine.
He didn't want to die
. He wasn't ready.

His eyes went past her to Abhartach. Of course, there were worse things.

Yes, indeed.

Ask him.
Ask him?

Horrified understanding illuminated Áedán's fear and burned it away. Yes, his death may be written—he'd face that if he had to—but
this
foul thing, he did not have to do.

The vow protected him, the promise between Niall and the demon so long ago. The vow that said the demon could drink, but not kill, and that he could only drink those three promised times.

His debt to the demon had been paid in full six years ago. Abhartach couldn't take anything from him, not without his consent.

That Áedán would not give. No matter what they planned to do to him.

"I willna. Ye canna make me do this."

Bav saw the iron-hard resolve in his eyes. She knew exquisitely well how unbreakable his will could be. She had no choice, not now. He had forced her hand.

"Áedán," she leaned close so the demon could not hear her, whispering soft and slow in his ear. "Ye will do this, my love.
Ye will.
Or I will tell him who lives in that little cottage by the sea." She heard his sharp inhalation and pressed her point home, word by word.

"Ye will be dead by morning one way or the other. I promised him blood,
yer
blood, yer life. But…he might be mollified with hers. She doesn't carry the O'Neill name, nothing protects her from him, Áedán. Nothing…and with ye dead, no one."

Áedán froze. She could feel his heart stutter under her hand and drove in the last nail. "Ye or yer precious girl. Yer choice, Áedán, but one of you is going with him."

For one long moment neither of them moved, then Áedán slumped bonelessly against her.He was unresisting as she stroked his hair, his back. Bav's heart soared in triumph, warm in the knowledge he would be safe.

Then she saw his face, his eyes staring blankly into the night. A tiny chill nipped at her cozy coccon, but she shoved it away as she held him close.

"'Twill be alright, Áedán, it will. Everything will be alright." Over and over she murmured words of comfort, rocking back and forth.

The demon watched them for several moments, his eyes wide.

Abruptly, Áedán pushed away from her. He got unsteadily to his feet, bracing himself against the gnarled trunk of the hawthrone tree. His head lifted slowly as he focused on Abhartach.

"I am ready."

A smile broke over the demon's face. Like a black sun rising over a demented landscape. For the first time since the scrying pool a flicker of real unease went through her.

What a truly awful creature…but a necessary evil. A useful one.

Áedán took an unsteady step away from the tree. She reached out to support him, but he brushed her off again, almost going to his knees with the effort. Abhartach stepped forward, pushing Áedán back with one huge hand, flattening him against the twisted old tree.

"There is no need for such useless pride, soon enough you won't be able to stand on your own. The change goes fast, but it is painful." The demon's smile widened. "Very painful. Lean back, my son, I will hold you up when the times comes."

"Donna call me tha'."

Abhartach laughed. "But that is what you will be from now on. I am going to give you death and then I am going to give you life. From
my
blood. You will be mine. My son. And eventually, I think, my
heir
."

Áedán's eyes rolled away from the laughing monster and sought hers again for the first time. For one second, one split moment in time, Bav hesitated, staring into those crystal depths.

This was wrong,
it was.
Even for her, this was too much.

She should stop it.

No.

He was hers!
He
could
be hers, she just needed more time.

More—

Áedán's screams ripped through the night and Bav covered her ears, sinking to her knees, rocking back and forth.

Just a little more time. Everything would be alright. It would.

When it was over, hours later, she crawled through the grass to lay beside him. Áedán was sprawled back against the tree, the bark of which Abhartach was stroking like a favored pet.