Earth's Hope (24 page)

Maybe when I see what’s outside, it will give me some clues. Her reasoning was weak, but it would have to do.

“Are you certain you don’t have any idea where we are?” she asked Rune. “Can you remember smelling something that might give me a clue?”

“We’re probably not far from where we found Taltos.”

Aislinn set her spell preparation aside and stared at him. “What would make you think that?”

“The mice. They’re the same kind we had at Marta’s and around Mount Shasta.”

“You’re telling me they have a different strain of mouse near Fionn’s house?”

“Why is that so hard to believe? Get us out of here.” He closed his jaws around her ankle for emphasis.

All right, then. I’ll just aim for Marta’s and call it even. If we’re in the western U.S., we can’t be all that far from Ely, Nevada.

Aislinn picked up the threads of her spell and reversed what she’d done earlier. Because she didn’t want to create any more warning of her intent than she had to, she pulled the dirt downward and crawled over the mounds it formed. Fresh air tantalized her as she moved cautiously upward, stopping when her head was level with the opening.

“Why are you stopping?” Rune laid his head on her butt.

“To make certain no one’s waiting to snatch us, and we have at least a short window of opportunity. It takes a few minutes to make a teleport spell, and then a couple more to pull us into it. I’m going to remain in the dense brush around the tree bole. You stay near me.”

She sent the barest wisp of Seeker magic outward. When she didn’t find anything, she extended her range a little. Hope burned a hole in her heart as she scrambled the rest of the way out of the hole, staying low, and immediately started the incantation to teleport them the fuck away from Majestron’s lair. She hadn’t dared let herself think about Fionn, but his face wavered before her now, and she longed for the feel of his arms around her and the sound of his deep voice crooning in Gaelic.

Can’t go there. Got to concentrate.

Her spell formed, and then skittered away. Rune eased out of the hole in the ground and lay next to her. Aislinn bit down hard on her lower lip and tried again. Being frantic and forcing magic to do her bidding had never worked well for her. She let go of her warding to free up power to teleport.

Rune pushed into her mind. He’d done it before when she needed an infusion of strength. Suddenly, she saw the world through his eyes, and her senses became far sharper. She realized she’d been siphoning off needed energy to listen for danger. With Rune’s hearing on board, she redirected additional power into her spell.

Finally, finally, it seemed to be coming together for her. Another few moments and a portal would form. Once they had that part, they were all but gone. She nudged Rune and pointed to where she expected her gateway to take shape. “Once you see it,” she instructed. “Jump through. I’ll be right behind you.”

“I’ve done this before.” He sounded hurt.

“Yes, but not when I’m this trashed. I’m trying to cover all the bases.”

The portal blinked, wavered, and dissipated.

Fuck!

She scrubbed a hand across her face. What was she doing wrong? Before she could resurrect the spell, this time writing each step in the dirt to make sure she wasn’t missing one of them, Nidhogg’s unmistakable voice blasted into her mind.

“Grab the wolf. I’ll transport you to my back, and then we’ll leave.”

Her gaze shot upward. Even though it sounded like the dragon, she suspected foul play. Surely the dark gods could mimic anyone. Relief so staggering it brought tears coursed through her when she saw the Norse dragon hovering a hundred feet above them. It didn’t matter how he’d found them. What mattered was help was at hand. Rune wouldn’t die. Not today, and neither would she.

Rune jumped to his feet, his tail pluming furiously. Thank Christ he didn’t start barking. Aislinn sidled to him and wrapped her arms around his thick body. The blast of magic that lifted them to the dragon’s back was so powerful she could have kissed it.

“How’d you find us?” she asked once she’d settled Rune across the dragon’s back.

“Later,” Nidhogg growled. “Fionn’s here with Odin and Thor. I need to tell him I’ve got you, and they can find their own way home.” Magic bubbled as the dragon reached for Fionn’s mind.

She opened her mouth to say she wanted to be with Fionn, needed to fight by his side, but common sense kicked her in the teeth. She wasn’t in any shape to be anything other than a liability—to anyone. Hell, even something as simple as a teleport spell had eluded her.

“Thank you,” she told Nidhogg. “If you could take us back to Fionn’s, I’ll be in your debt forever.”

“Our lives are linked,” the dragon said solemnly, “because of your bond to Dewi.”

“Lass,” Fionn’s voice bloomed deep in her mind. “I love you. Stay in the manor house where ye’re safe, and I’ll join you presently.”

She had just enough time to tell Fionn she adored him before Nidhogg swept them into a portal and she fell against his neck, exhausted.

“It’s good you didn’t argue with me,” Nidhogg rumbled. “I’m not in the best of moods, and I’d hate to have to hurt you. Dewi might never forgive me.”

“What’d you expect me to do?” Aislinn asked.

“Teleport off my back to Fionn’s side.”

Heat swept from her chest over the top of her head. She’d come perilously close to doing just that. And she might have if she’d trusted her magic was intact.

“Never mind, child. Rest. I’ll see you and Rune safely home.”

“What about Majestron Zalia?”

“The men will do what they can to neutralize her.”

Aislinn’s weary eyes snapped open. “But that’s dangerous. She’s got the same poison blood Tokhots did.” Her tired brain pedaled in slow motion. “How does that work? Could she kill Fionn or the others?”

“Nay, they’re immortal, but she could force Fionn deep into the Dreaming, where it would take someone like Gwydion to draw him back.”

“What about the others? Do the Norse gods have somewhere to retreat to when they’re hurt?”

Nidhogg snorted. “You’re quite the question girl. I thought you’d be so grateful—and so tired—you’d lean on my neck and wink out.” He paused. “Your wolf’s asleep.”

She placed a hand on Rune’s side and he made a soft, whuffly, growling noise. “As if I could sleep while we teleport,” he muttered.

Aislinn turned Nidhogg’s last words over in her mind and said, “I asked you about the Norse gods and got a bunch of fluff. You don’t want to tell me.”

“Smart wench. I can’t. It’s classified.”

She wrapped her arms as far as they’d go around the dragon’s neck. Lethargy dragged at her, exacerbated by hunger and thirst. “How much longer?”

“Soon, child. Dewi’s been pestering me ever since she knew I found you. I swear, the two of you could drive a man into his cave for eternity.”

Rune woofed softly, and Aislinn knew he was laughing.

* * * *

Fionn felt like turning cartwheels. Aislinn was alive and on her way to Inishowen. If anyone could see her safely home—besides himself, that was—it was Nidhogg. He felt buoyant, as if a million tons of worry had just lifted off his heart.

Majestron Zalia.

What to do about her? Odin was correct that this was too good an opportunity to pass up. They actually had her where the odds were three to one. No one had raced out of the house to stand by her side, and he didn’t sense anyone else here beyond the four of them. At least no one with power. Maybe that was why no one had shot to Majestron’s rescue. She was here by herself.

A shrill battle cry split the air, followed by another. Fionn raced toward where he’d left the two Norsemen and the dark goddess. Immortality was great on his side of the equation, but deucedly inconvenient when it came to the dark gods. What he wanted to do was batter their sorry asses into dust and feed them to Hell’s demons.

Thumping, pounding, and the crash of trees falling shook the ground. Fionn burst into the clearing and saw Odin hacking and slashing at Majestron while Thor held her pinned from behind. She hissed and writhed, shifting into a snake, and then back to herself. Both the Norse gods dripped blood, but were still on their feet. Maybe they were immune to her poison, or maybe it just took longer to act than it had when one of Dewi’s brood had bitten Tokhots.

“Care to join the party?” A feral grin lit Odin’s face, and he slashed downward with his axe, severing one of Majestron’s arms. It fell to the ground, but bounced upward immediately and hovered next to her body trying to reattach itself. Majestron chanted furiously in a language Fionn didn’t recognize.

“They spent long years in your dungeon,” Fionn said. “Do ye know how to kill them?”

“If I did, they’d have been dead long since,” Odin growled.

The dark goddess’s arm was almost fully reattached. She twisted her head halfway around on her neck, something she shouldn’t have been able to do.

“Watch out!” Fionn shouted, understanding she planned to sink her teeth into Thor’s neck.

He had good reactions and thrust her away before she could strike. Once freed, her form began to shimmer. Fionn darted forward, shuffling through spells as he sought one that would interrupt her magic. A few more moments, and she’d teleport beyond their reach.

Odin whipped a golden rope from somewhere in his battle armor and wound it around her neck.

“Bastard!” she snarled, showing teeth that morphed into fangs.

“It won’t hold her for long,” Odin cried. “Precious metals dull their power.”

Fionn held out a hand for Thor’s battle axe. “Give me that.” As soon as he had it in hand, he hefted it in a huge, sweeping blow that severed Majestron’s head from her shoulders. Fionn pulled wards to shield himself from the splattering blood and booted the head as far from the body as he could.

“Always loved a rousing game of kickball.” Thor wrested his axe from Fionn and dropped it back into its sheath.

“Excellent!” Odin kicked the still spurting, headless body, and turned to Fionn. “Summon fire. I will too and we’ll burn her. It won’t kill her, but it should move her out of the action for long enough to tackle the rest of her tribe.”

Fionn dropped his warding to call mage fire. It burned blue and braided itself with Odin’s orange-colored flames. Thor chanted low in the Norsemen’s tongue, his hands extended toward the growing conflagration. As if they fed one another, the twin fires blazed upward forming an inferno. Majestron’s body bubbled and smoked, but didn’t turn to ash.

“Better drop the head in too,” Odin instructed.

Fionn trotted in a wide circle, hunting where it had landed. Black ichor smudged the ground, leading him right to it. He picked it up gingerly by the hair and Majestron’s blue eyes snapped open. Fionn froze.

How was this even possible?

Her wide, seductive mouth opened in a grin displaying vampiric fangs. “You haven’t won,” she said.

Fionn had seen a lot in his long life, but having a severed head talk to him was so wrong it rattled his brain. Slowly, the head swung toward him, jaws snapping.

“MacCumhaill!” Odin’s voice cut like a whip. “The fire. Her head goes in the fire.”

“No shit!” Cursing in Gaelic, Fionn covered the distance to the flaming pyre and dropped Majestron’s head atop her body. That had been much too close a call. The bitch had hypnotized him because he dropped his guard, figuring she wasn’t a threat anymore. He pushed the creep-factor aside and kicked himself for being sloppy.

Odin gripped Fionn’s shoulder. “She’s strong, that one.”

Fionn watched as Majestron’s head moved incrementally toward her shoulders, sidling through the fire. He pointed. “What happens once she’s whole again?”

“Won’t happen if we do this right.” Odin snapped a hand downward and a lightning bolt added juice to the blaze. After one more rocking push, the head fell to the side. Her eyes opened one last time and she bared her teeth at Fionn. “We are not done, Celt.”

“The hell,” he snapped.

“We’ll stay until the fire goes out,” Odin said.

“You probably want to get back to that woman of yours,” Thor cut in. “Too bad the dragon made off with her before I got a good look. Loved all that red hair, though.”

“Ye can love it from a distance.” Fionn looked from Odin to Thor. “Why didn’t Majestron’s blood affect you?”

“She scratched me once when I got too close,” Thor said. “It was my own fault. I was slumming in the dungeons, and she bared her breasts.” He made a snorting noise. “Never seen a set like them before or since. I felt like I’d die if I couldn’t touch them.” He shrugged self-consciously. “I’d no sooner got my hands on her overheated flesh when she dug her nails into me. They must’ve been tipped with her own blood. I was unconscious for a long time. Months. One of our most competent healers dosed me with various combinations of herbs until she hit on one that neutralized the toxin.”

“Once we found an antidote,” Odin picked up the tale, “we all took it as a precaution in case Majestron or Tokhots got loose.”

“Majestron must not have known,” Fionn said, “or she wouldn’t have been so bold when we cornered her. She just assumed her blood would protect her.”

“No way she could have known,” Thor concurred. “We never told her.” His head whipped around. “Goddammit! Who’s there? Show yourself.”

Fionn twirled in the direction of Thor’s voice in time to see a slightly built man creep from behind a broad evergreen tree. Black hair fell untidily to the middle of his back, and he had the wide brown eyes of a frightened mouse. A quick scan told Fionn the man was human and didn’t appear to have any power at all. How had he escaped the Lemurians’ purge?

“Who are you?” Fionn stepped into his path.

The man raised a trembling hand and pointed at the smoking pyre. “Is she dead?”

“Nay,” Fionn replied. “Ye canna kill those such as her. But it will be long afore she causes any more trouble. Who are you?”

“Christian Jones. Her manservant.” He glanced nervously about. “If she’s not watching me, that means I can go home. My family must think I died.”

“How long have you been here?” Thor asked.

The man narrowed his eyes. “Better than ten years.”