Burning Bright (Ivy Granger) (22 page)

“Both,” I said, opening my eyes.  “How’d you know I was so
desperate for a coffee?”

“You still haven’t fulfilled either bargain, to The Green
Lady or Sir Gaius,” he said.  “Which means you are likely beginning to feel the
side effects.  Delaying a bargain will sap you of your strength, and your
symptoms will only worsen over time.”

“Then I guess we better get this trip over with,” I said.

I tipped my head back and drained the cup of coffee, then
tossed it in the nearest trash bin.  The caffeine jolt wouldn’t last long, not
with my half-fae metabolism, all the more reason to get our butts to the
Otherworld, pronto.

I filled Ceff in on the details of our upcoming journey as
we hoofed it over to the alley where Torn held court.  To say he was worried
was an understatement, but he never shied away from my request for him to come
with me.  Jinx may be my best friend and staunchest defender, but Ceff had
become an extension of myself, a projection of my mental armor, shielding me
from the darkness and pain that was so much a part of my life.  Jinx was my
sword and Ceff my shield—and I swore to never lose either one.

Too bad I had to keep putting their lives in danger.

Fifteen minutes later, I entered Torn’s domain, Ceff’s
silent, solid presence behind me.  It looked just like your typical alley in
the city, graffiti covered brick walls, overflowing trash bins, worn,
overturned crates, and the obligatory cats, but people didn’t stagger into this
alley unless the
cat sidhe
wanted them to.

Humans experience a sense of dread when they venture too
near this place, a foreboding that quickens their steps as they pass by.  You
have to be invited in or you’d never find this entrance to the alley—not unless
the
cat sidhe
were looking for a new plaything.

Thankfully, I was on the guest list—and not on the menu.

T
hat didn’t
keep the bastard from toying with us.

“Ah, princess, I’ve been expecting you,” Torn said, slinking
up to me and draping an arm around my waist.  “Just couldn’t stay away, eh?  I
do get that a lot.  From what I hear, I’m like catnip.  Want to roll around and
find out?”

With a flick of our wrists, Ceff had his trident aimed at
Torn’s throat and I had one of my knives pressed against the most precious part
of the sidhe lord’s anatomy.

“You know the rules, Torn,” I said through clenched teeth. 
“No touching.”

“You heard her,” Ceff said.  “Back off.  Now.”

I risked a glance at Ceff whose eyes had gone completely
black.  Oh yeah, he was pissed.

“Fine, fine,” Torn said, stepping gingerly away.  “It wasn’t
skin—I don’t think you could handle me, princess—but it’s not like we haven’t
touched before.  Remember sweetheart?”

Ceff stiffened and I shook my head.

“That was to travel to the Otherworld, not an invitation,” I
said.

“Ah yes, Mag Mell,” he said, with a wink.  “Good times.”

Actually, it had been downright terrifying.  Apparently, my
definition of fun and Torn’s weren’t even close to the same.  But I nodded, a
slow smile sliding onto my face.

“Ready for another Otherworld adventure?” I asked.

Torn’s eyes sparkled and I knew he was interested.  Now, I
just had to sell it.

“What do you have in mind, princess?” he asked, licking his
lips.

“Emain Ablach,” I said.

“Ah, if you want to escape to a tropical island, I can think
of better places,” he said.  “There’s this one off the coast of Brazil where
the women sunbathe nude and…”

“It has to be Emain Ablach,” I said.  “I hear the apples
there are great this time of year.”

Torn sighed and crossed his arms.

“This isn’t a titillating trip of seduction, is it?” he asked.

“No, nor will it ever be,” Ceff said, stepping forward.

“Hey, yeah, we’re not going there for the nude
sunbathing—obviously—but that doesn’t mean this won’t be fun,” I said.  “Just
think of all the danger, the peril, the…the…”

“Fine,” he said.  “You had me at danger.  When do you wish
to leave?”

I checked my weapons and nodded.  “I’m good to go.”

“Excellent,” he said.  Torn tugged a shadow from a crevice
in the wall and pulled it out with a flourish.

An arrow buried itself deep in the same wall, inches from my
head and I gasped.  The fae assassins had found me, and apparently their orders
were to shoot on sight.  So much for a trial.

“Hurry up Torn!” I yelled.

He stepped between me and Ceff, an evil grin on his face. 
“Hold on tight.  We’re in for a bumpy ride.”

That was an understatement.

M
y first
impression of Emain Ablach was that it was wet.  Very, very wet.  But I didn’t
have much time to think about that fact.  I was too busy drowning.

I struggled to swim to the surface—wherever the hell that
was—the weight of my clothes, leather jacket, and weapons weighing me down.  My
lungs burned and my brain screamed at me to find a way out of this wet
torment.  I needed air, badly.

I forced my eyes open, salt and whatever else was in the water
burning like acid, but being able to see my surroundings didn’t help matters.  It
did, however, make me glad for quick reflexes and muscle memory.

At the first sign of my assassin stalkers, back in a
Harborsmouth alley, I’d grabbed one of my throwing knives.  I may not be able
to throw it now, not in this water, but the pressure of the blade in my gloved
hand made it easier to face the grinning corpses smiling back at me.

There were hundreds of them.

Bloated bodies in every state of decomposition drifted at
the ends of seaweed infested chains that rose up from the ocean floor.  I would
have assumed that the people on the ends of those chains were dead, a warning
to anyone foolish enough to trespass here, except for the hands reaching
outward and the curve of their rotting lips.

Grins like frightened, blue worms curled up toward vacant
eyes.  The eyes, or what was left of them, were coated in a white film and
looked as though they’d been nibbled on by grazing fish.  The chained corpses
may not be able to see, but I had no doubt that they could sense my presence.  Their
hands clawed at the water and their faces were all turned in my direction.  Perhaps
they could scent me, like sharks on a blood trail.

Now that was a cheery thought.

I kicked away, trying to put more distance between myself
and the grasping dead.  I recoiled as my boot hit something squishy.  Mab’s
bones, I didn’t realize there was a chained corpse that close to where I swam. 
I did not want to touch these things or the chains that bound them.  Those were
visions I’d never survive.

The delay alone would kill me.

Heart pounding, I propelled myself upward, but I had a
nagging suspicion that I wasn’t going to make it.  I’d sunk too deep into this
watery hell.  Already my lungs burned and dizziness sent my head spinning like a
ride on an otherworldly merry go round.  My limbs were cold and heavy and I
could barely feel the knife in my hand.

How ironic would it be to die here, within spitting distance
of a tree that grew magical apples capable of reviving the dead?

Air bubbles sprung from my nose and I fought not to
breathe.  Inhaling water would mean my death.  I made one more sluggish stroke
through the water and felt strong hands grip my waist and haul me upward.  I
was sailing through the water, away from greedy hands and the hundreds of faces
that grinned hungrily after me.

My rescuer was a strong swimmer and I doubted Torn would have
gone to so much trouble to save me.  I felt a tingle of energy zing through my
system, helping me to hold onto the slippery tendrils of consciousness.  Ceff,
it had to be Ceff.

I gasped as my head broke the surface of the water, gulping
air and choking on a mouthful of water.  I coughed up phlegm and who knows what
else—with those corpses steeping down below, I didn’t want to think about
it—and pushed wet, bedraggled hair from my face.  I was alive, but it wasn’t
pretty.

I grimaced and pushed the floating evidence of my
humiliating coughing fit away.  Ceff had a grip on my jacket, still helping to
keep my head above the water’s surface.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

With his wet hair slicked back from large, dark green eyes
and his chiseled jaw, he looked gorgeous.  He was completely in his element
here, unlike his half-drowned girlfriend.

“I just swallowed a gallon of salty corpse tea and sea
monkeys,” I said, a rueful grin on my face.  “I’ve been better.”

Shivering, I took in our surroundings.  From the looks of
things, we were in the ocean about half a mile off the coast of an island
paradise.  The sun was shining, the sky an azure blue that practically screamed
for bathing suits and lazy days at the beach.  A light breeze caressed my skin,
smelling of apple blossoms and something earthier.

I scanned the horizon for threats, but so far there was
nothing but me, Ceff, and a tropical utopia.  But looks can be deceiving—a
lesson I’d learned as a child when my second sight came online in all its
nightmare inducing glory.  In fact, the corpses chained somewhere beneath my
feet were a testament to that.  I may not be able to see them, but that didn’t
mean they weren’t lurking below, waiting for a chance to claw my eyes out.

Speaking of claws…

“Where’s Torn?” I asked.

Ceff pressed his lips in a firm line and ran his fingers
through wet hair.  The movement showed off his chest and arms and I struggled
to remain focused.  Damn, we really needed a vacation.  Maybe when we got home,
we could sail down the coast to a real tropical island—one that wouldn’t try to
keep us as chained pets.

“Torn muttered something about this not being his quest, and
cats disliking getting wet, and said that he would meet us on the island,” he
said.

The scowl on Ceff’s face could fill volumes. He wasn’t happy
about Torn’s disappearing act.  Neither was I, but there was nothing to be done
about it.  Torn was a wild card, I’d known that from the beginning.

“So we’re on our own,” I said with a sigh.

“It would appear so,” he said.

“Fine, us it is then,” I said.  I paddled in a circle, double-checking
the surface of the water between us and the island.  Nothing had changed since
my last scan of the place.  “So where’s the sea deity who’s supposed to guard
this place?  Think we caught him on vacation?”

The irony of a sea deity hanging up a “gone fishing” sign
make me chuckle.  Ceff eyed me as if he suspected I may have suffered brain
damage from lack of oxygen, but his words were deadly serious.

“Manannán mac Lir will come,” he said.

“Okay, then I guess it’s time to storm the beach,” I said.

The sand and palm trees in the distance looked warm and
inviting.  There were no gun turrets or razor wire, but that didn’t mean this wouldn’t
get bloody.  I eyed the distance to the island and grimaced.  I was a strong
swimmer, but I’d need to be physically at my best for when Manannán showed up.

“Think you can tow me along?” I asked, holding out the belt
that was attached to my leather jacket.  Being dragged along by my jacket
wouldn’t be comfortable, but it’d be better than dying because I was too worn
out to fight.

“I have a better idea,” he said.

Ceff clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.  His muscles
rippled and stretched, elongating and moving as a gray coat of fur sprung from
his body.  He arched his back, sunk beneath the waves, and reappeared as a
gorgeous stallion—one with gill slits along its neck, just below the slightly
webbed ears.  He blew water from his nose and swam closer.

The kelpie bumped against my hip and I got the hint.  Looked
like my ride was here and ready to go.

I wrapped an arm around Ceff’s neck, allowed my body to
float as I positioned myself alongside him, and swung a leg over his back.  With
me astride his scarred back, Ceff rose up so that the top of his body was fully
out of the water.  Only his powerful legs were submerged.

“Hi ho, Ceffyl, away,” I whispered into one of his ears.

Ceff snickered and, with a powerful kick of his legs, we
were off.  The speed with which we cut through the water was exhilarating and I
couldn’t help but smile as the breeze and Ceff’s magic pulled the water from my
soaked clothes.

I flexed my hands and rolled my shoulders.  The leather of
my jacket and gloves wasn’t as supple as it should be, but it hadn’t stiffened
yet.  The salt crusted clothes would likely chafe once I got walking, but I was
no longer weighted down by waterlogged gear and I had only a slightly
diminished range of motion.  It was good enough.

I thought about what we knew of the island’s guardian.  Manannán
mac Lir was a powerful sea deity who could call upon mist to hide his movements
and who possessed Fragarach the Answerer, a sword that could cut through
anything and force the truth from any throat it threatened.  I wasn’t too
worried about the truth telling part—I didn’t plan on talking the guy to
death—but the sword that doubled as a Ginsu knife had me shaking in my salt
crusted jeans.

That’s why I reached for both of my throwing knives when a
mist began to form along the surface of the water.  It could have been the
natural result of the afternoon sun striking the cold, ocean water, but I
wouldn’t bet on it.

“You see that?” I whispered.

Ceff nodded and kept swimming.  The mist grew, becoming so
dense that within seconds I lost sight of the island.  I had to trust Ceff’s
sense of direction and hope that we were still headed the right way.  I turned
my head left and right, pivoting atop Ceff’s back to see or hear any sign of Manannán
mac Lir.