Burning Bright (Ivy Granger) (23 page)

Sibilant voices seemed to whisper through the mist, and I
spun around wondering where our attacker would rear his ugly head.  It was like
turning the crank of a jack-in-the-box, staring transfixed, knowing that
eventually the creepy clown will leap out.  It’s just a matter of time.

All around the Mulberry Bush,

The monkey chased the weasel.

The monkey stopped to pull up his sock,

Pop! goes the weasel.

I tightened the grip on my knives.  This monkey wasn’t
getting caught with her socks down.  I snuck glances out of the corner of my
eyes, hoping that my second sight would give me a clue before the sea deity
struck.

My skin began to glow and I cursed myself for thinking about
clowns and jack-in-the-boxes.  There’s nothing like childhood terrors to weaken
what little control I had over my wisp powers.  But when another childhood
thought followed, I invited it in. 
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, had a
very shiny nose…

It was silly and outrageous and it might just paint a big
target on our heads, but then again, it might just work.  Or maybe I did spend
too much time under the water.  Either way, it was worth a shot.  I focused on
all of my fears, every single thing that had frightened me over the years.

Trust me.  I had more than enough nightmare fodder to choose
from.  Heck, I could have alphabetized them and filled a multi-volume
encyclopedia of terrors.  Light sprung from my eyes and my skin glowed eerily,
cutting through the mist.

There!  Light glinted off metal, and I barely had time to
duck before a blade sliced through the air where my head had been.  Damn, this
guy was fast.

Ceff dove beneath the waves and I held on tight, wrapping
his mane around one gloved hand while I kept the blade in the other hand held
out like a javelin—a very teensy, tiny javelin.  I fought to keep my eyes open
against the rushing water, using my wisp light to scan the waves for our
attacker.

I caught movement to our right and lashed out with my knife,
scoring the blade along a man’s ribs.  I tried for one more backward thrust before
we were fully past, but Manannán mac Lir brought his sword up to block the blow
and Fragarach split my knife blade as if it were made of wet paper.

I willed Ceff to swim faster, but Manannán spun again and
raced toward us, hot on our tail.  We broke through the waves and I gulped in
air.  The mist was gone and I smiled.  The beach was there, just meters away. 
We did it.

Ceff’s hooves hit sand and we went from a hard gallop to an
abrupt halt so fast it had me tasting blood.  But I didn’t stop smiling, not
until I felt the sword at my back.

F
ragarach pressed
lightly against my jacket collar and a whimper escaped my lips.  The leather collar
of my jacket was reinforced with silver mesh, a trick Jenna had taught me to
prevent vamp bites and glancing blows, but it would do nothing to keep the
sharp edge of that particular sword from my skin.  If Manannán mac Lir wanted
to decapitate me, all he had to do was press the blade forward.  Silver,
leather, and bone were no match for the magical blade.

I just hoped he had a steady hand, and didn’t sneeze.

I went completely still, even Ceff holding his breath for
fear of the blade touching my skin, or taking my head off.  I wasn’t sure which
would be worse.  I was sure that a named magic sword would have spilled its
fair share of blood over the years.  Maybe a quick death would be preferable to
the visions that a mere touch would bring.

Not that decapitation was high on my list of ways to go.

“Who dares to tread the path of the silver apple?” Manannán
mac Lir asked.

I wanted to quip something from an old Monty Python movie,
but they didn’t call Fragarach “The Answerer” for nothing.  I guess I was
sticking with the facts and nothing but the facts.

“Ivy Granger, daughter of a human and Will-o-the-Wisp, and Ceffyl
Dŵr, king of the north Atlantic kelpies,” I said.  “Oh, and our guide, Sir
Torn, lord of the Harborsmouth
cat sidhe
.”

That is, if the bastard hadn’t already run off at the first
sign of trouble, or something shiny.  Torn leaving us here to die was a
distinct possibility.

Manannán mac Lir circled me, never letting the tip of his
sword leave my throat.  From the sound of Fragarach slicing through leather and
skittering along the thin layer of silver mesh lining, I was going to need a
new leather jacket when this was over.  That pissed me off.  This jacket had
more scars than I did, but it was mine and it didn’t give me unwanted visions
when I shrugged it on each day.  Breaking in a new jacket was going to suck and
the clurichaun tailoring bill was going to set me back a month’s pay.

I focused on my anger, grabbing hold of the rage and letting
it grow.  Fear may be a strong enough emotion to light me up like an overcooked
turducken, but anger would give me the strength I needed to face Manannán.

The sea deity had made his way into my line of sight, all
eight feet of him.  Even riding atop Ceff’s back, Manannán mac Lir managed to
tower over me.  He was a giant of a man with a long white beard that would have
made him resemble Santa Claus if he wasn’t sporting six pack abs.  That was no
bowl full of jelly, that’s for sure.  He had wide shoulders, a barrel chest,
and arms the size of oak trees.  He was naked from the waist up, except for a
cloak draped over his shoulders, and covered in fish scales to the knee.  I
suspected that, like mermen, his lower half probably took the form of a tail
when he wasn’t on land.  It would explain his speed in the water.

“Why have you come to Emain Ablach?” he asked.  “What do you
seek?”

“I need a magic apple to bring my friend back to life,” I
said.

Something wistful shifted behind his expression, replaced
quickly with a scowl.

“If your friend is dead, then you are already too late,” he
said.  “Abandon your quest and leave this place.”

“Um, she’s not dead yet,” I said.

I put a stranglehold on the giggle that tried to force its
way up through my body.  Now was no time to lose my head.

Manannán mac Lir’s green eyes widened, white eyebrows
reaching up to disappear into his hairline.

“Are you a Seer?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said.

“Then how do you know that your friend will die?” he asked.

“Because I’m the one her enemies sent to kill her,” I said.

His eyes narrowed.

“You would take the life of a friend?” he asked.

“Not if I can help it,” I said.  “And if I can’t, then the
least I can do is bring her back to life.  Apparently, your silver apples can
make that happen.”

He knew that I was telling the truth.  With Fragarach at my
throat, I was unable to lie.

“And the kelpie king and
cat sidhe
lord?” he asked

“Ceffyl Dŵr is my official suitor…I love him and he
loves me,” I said.  I blushed, knowing that Ceff could hear every word.  Pesky
magical sword.  “And Torn is an official ally, though I suspect he’s here out
of boredom rather than obligation.”

“A half human, wisp princess bound by love to a kelpie king
and in the company of a
cat sidhe
?” he asked.  “Never has such a party
of adventurers graced these waters.”

“Perplexing, isn’t it?” a voice asked.

Torn emerged from the shadow of a palm tree, empty hands
spread wide as he swaggered toward us.  His expression was all innocence, but I
knew better.  The
cat sidhe
lord had been up to something, I just wasn’t
sure what.  I probably didn’t want to know since at least then when the shit
hit the proverbial fan I could plead plausible deniability.

With Fragarach the Answerer at my throat, that was likely
the best strategy.

I gasped as Manannán swung Fragarach from my throat to
Torn’s.  Mab’s bones, I was happy to have room to breathe again, but a little
warning would have been nice.

“Who are you to trespass on this isle?” he asked, frowning
at Torn.

“Sir Torn, king of cats, lord of the
cat sidhe
,” he
said.

King of cats?  That title was new to my ears.  I wondered
what it meant, but I wasn’t the one asking the questions.  I filed it away for
later, if there was a later.

Manannán gave Torn a dubious once over.  We were probably a
sore disappointment for the guardian’s expectations for fae royalty.

“Why do you seek the silver apples of Emain Ablach?” he
asked.

“I don’t,” Torn said, shaking his head.  “I’m not the hero
in this adventure, just the ruggedly handsome guide.”

“If you are their guide, as you say, then why did you not
take part in the trial of water?” he asked.

Torn shook his head ruefully.

“Cats don’t like to get wet,” he said with a shrug.  “And
have you seen what sea salt does to leather?”

Torn waved a hand at his leather pants.

“Why did I not see you on the beach before now?” he asked.

“The beach isn’t really my style, I’m more of a shadows kind
of guy,” Torn said.  “Plus, I’d rather not get sand in my trousers.  So I went
to see Ailinn.  The island’s defenses are set to deter those seeking the apple,
not bored
cat sidhe
, so it was an easy trip.  But apparently, Ailinn
only shows herself to heroes.  So I came back to wait here for these two.”

“Ailinn was not at her grave?” he asked, tilting his head to
the side.

“No, but like I said, I don’t think she appears without a
hero present,” Torn said.

“I am no hero,” Manannán muttered.  He looked longingly up
the hill in the direction Torn had come.  “But I protect her grave in hopes
that some day she will appear to me.”

“Do you have a message for Ailinn?” I asked.

I was grabbing at straws, but the pain on Manannán’s face
was real.  Love can make a person do crazy things.  If the sea deity had taken
on the role of guardian to this place in hopes of someday being worthy of a
glimpse of his beloved, then maybe he’d be willing to let us pass if we carried
a message to her.

Fragarach was back at my throat, but this time I was ready. 
I suspected that Manannán didn’t believe any words spoken without the sword’s
compulsion.  This guy had bigger trust issues than I did, and that’s saying a
lot.

“You would carry my words to Ailinn?” he asked, a sanguine
smile on his lips.

“Yes, if you let us pass,” I said.  “All I need is your
message.”

“Tell her…that someday I will be worthy of her forgiveness,”
he said.  “Those exact words.”

“I swear it,” I said.

Manannán lowered his blade and I slumped forward as the
bargain settled heavy on my shoulders.

“Then I wish you luck on your quest,” he said.  “Safe
travels.”

“Safe travels,” I gasped.

The guardian sheathed Fragarach, spun, and leapt into the
ocean at our backs.  With the flip of a shimmering tail, the sea deity was
gone.  Manannán mac Lir was letting us onto the island.  I smiled and shook my
head.  He’d even wished us luck on our quest.

Well, how’s them apples?

I
upended my
boot, dumping sand onto the rocky path, and swore an oath to never wear leather
to the beach again.  My boots, gloves, and jacket were stiff from my little
swim with the corpses and my jeans were caked with salt and sand.  My skin was
rubbed raw in more places than I could count and we’d only just made it off the
beach and onto a path that plunged us into the false night of a thick forest.

Unlike the sunny, tropical beach dotted with palm trees,
this place was filled with old growth trees that blocked out the sky as they leaned
together in their death throes.  I scowled at the murky path ahead.  It was
hedged in by a wall of writhing brambles, some with thorns bigger than an ogre
chieftain’s tusk.

Going through the wall of thorns was not an option.  There
was nowhere to go except to follow the path ahead—a path choked with webs.  Spiders,
why did it have to be spiders?

“Torn, what the hell?” I asked.  I yanked on my boot and pointed
one of my blades at the webs that crisscrossed our path.  “I thought you came
this way already.  What could weave those webs that fast?”

Please don’t say spider fae.  Please, please, please.

“Like I’ve been trying to tell you, princess,” he said.  “I
wasn’t here for the apples, so the island wasn’t hostile to me.  There was a
different path that led right through those briars.”

I narrowed my eyes at the wall of thorns, but the path was
no longer there.  Neither was the one leading back to the beach.  Well, fuck a
duck.

 Ceff—who had changed back to his humanoid form once our
encounter with the sea deity was over—went over to the twisting vines and poked
at them with the tip of his trident.  A thick tendril lashed out in a blur of
motion, snapping its thorns within an inch of Ceff’s retreating hand.

“Avoid the local flora,” he said.

“You think?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

I hadn’t planned on touching anything in this god forsaken
place anyway, but I inched closer to the center of the trail.

“As for the webs,” Torn said, licking his lips.  “I’m
thinking spider fae.”

Crap, I knew it.  I may have taken up moonlighting as fae
pest control lately, but so far I hadn’t been asked to clear out any spider fae
nests.  I’d counted myself lucky that the urban jungle I call home wasn’t their
favorite nesting grounds.  Judging from the webs that clung to every surface, I
was guessing creepy, old forests were more to their liking.

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” I grumbled.

I slid one of my throwing knives back into its wrist sheath
and pulled a machete from where I kept it nestled in the small of my back.  It
was a new addition to my utility belt, one I’d rather not have to use.  I
preferred throwing knives, since they allowed me to keep a safe distance, but
if I had to get up close and personal, the machete was a better option than one
of my daggers.  The blade was too long to be street legal, heck it handled like
a sword, but it had a better chance of keeping my enemies at arm’s length than
my daggers did and the iron in the blade would be effective against fae.