Smoke in Moonlight (Celtic Elementals Book 1) (9 page)

The sun was touching the top of the hill, preparing to slide behind it and the whole valley was spread out in its light. Wide swaths of green and gold grass were banded by darker green woods, blending into each other until the horizon disappeared in a purple-gray smudge against an eggshell blue sky.

"Good God," Lacey breathed. "How can you look at that every day and not be thankful to be alive?" She had spoken to herself, not him, but Ronan turned back and looked at her. Just looked for a heart's beat. There was something in his eyes that made her heart contract painfully. It was gone like quicksilver.

"Easily," he said, in a hard voice.

He took a couple steps and sat down on the stone wall, looking tired for the first time since she'd met him. "I need ye to understand what yer into here, even if it’s just the short and sweet version. Otherwise yer a danger to me, and everyone else in this house—including yerself."

Lacey pulled herself onto the wall, though not too close to him. "Am I about to hear another legend?"

"Nae. The story me mam told ye 'tis the legend. It sprang from what happened to us, but like most old tales, it's off the true mark." He stared straight ahead, not looking at her. For all his talk of short and sweet, he didn't seem anxious to begin. 

"So, Nati.. that priest guy didn't curse you, Aine did?" Lacey spoke hesitantly, watching his profile. He seemed made of more stone than the wall. But finally Ronan spoke.

“Aye. And it weren't at Candlemas either, it were Lughnasa—tha’s a celebration for Lugh himself. The sun-god. Himself is our family patron." Ronan said at her puzzled look. "We'd all come down to Laois for the doings; Mam, Da, and me brothers. Michael and Shelagh were to be hand-fasted tha' fall, but they'd no bairns. But Da's brothers were there, too, with all their lot." Lacey was surprised again to see a smile dance softly about his lips.

"Damme, but we were a big, noisy bunch! A right deal was Lughnasa, back then. Besides, Lugh was our family patron, since time out of mind, so we were all a bit crazy with excitement. Dancing and feasting and carrying on. And did we have us a time laughing when that cantankerous old priest showed up! At least, we younger ones did. Mam liked the new religion well enough, she'd say her prayers right along with her charms to Brigid and the rest and see not a speck of harm in it." Ronan's jaw tightened.

"Well, he spoke his peace when I knocked him down on pure accident—tha' crazy old man. Anyone could see he had naught an ounce of real power in him, from Jesu or anyone else. All he had was a fair lot of hate and pride and fear. So, we laughed and kept on with our fun. But Da, he got a strange look and was a mite quiet after tha'. Da had a way about him, of sensing things. A few days later, it was the new moon. The next night, I changed for the first time. I was sixteen."

Lacey's throat tightened and she restrained herself from reaching out to him. Somehow, she knew he wouldn't welcome her sympathy.

"Well, Da knew it wasn't that priest who had done it, sure enough. But it were
his
words coming true. It dinna make sense. So he called on Lugh. And after a fortnight, Lugh answered. He came to the house." Ronan smiled at her gasp.

"It wasn't uncommon in those days, for gods to walk as men. Especially Lugh. He has a thing for humans. Da always said we—the Fitzpatricks in particular—were loved by Lugh, because we'd descended of his own son, the great Cúchulainn of the Red Branch."

“Are you…are you telling me you’re related to a
god?”

The smile playing at Ronan’s lips deepened. "Another day, lass. Ye've enough to hear with one tale, as convoluted as it is. So, Lugh takes bread with us, powerful magic tha'. Putting us under his protection, see." Ronan watched Lacey intently, but she got the ramifications well enough.

Aine had broke bread with
her
. Putting her under the protection of the goddess that had cursed him.  The backs of her arms tingled. No wondered he was so distrustful of her.

Ronan watched the comprehension cross her face, before he continued.

"Lugh told us what had happened. It'd taken him awhile to piece it together, though he'd had his suspicions right off. Seems Aine was knocking about the festivities tha' day, in a right snit. 'Cause no one was singing
her
praises. Or dancing in
her
name. When she came upon us, she got even more nasty.

"She’s always hated us, since Lugh loved us. Even though we gave her due, it dinna matter. She hates Lugh, she hates us. But she's also scared of him. His power outshines hers…well, like the sun does the moon. She was watching, trying to figure a way to make us all pay. And along comes Natilus, with his temper and bluster. Basically giving her us on a platter. Aine made the
faoladh
in the first place, ye understand. They’re her creation. She brought them into existence to serve her; to serve the moon, the dark and the night.

“She made her spell to match the words the priest had spoke, thinking we'd blame him, and she’d nae be found out. But Lugh got it outa her in the end."

"Wait," Lacey held up a hand, her head was spinning again. "Are you telling me this all happened to you because Aine was jealous? Of a celebration that didn't have anything to do with her?" Ronan raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment.

"That's...that's so petty, so…
high school!
Aren't gods above all that?" Lacey was sputtering with indignation.

Ronan laughed out loud.

"No' much of a student of mythology, are ye?"

Lacey thought about that. She didn't know much about Celtic myth, true enough. But she'd read enough Homer in college to get his point.

Those Greek gods were always fighting and causing human misery over the damnedest things. The thought gave Lacey pause. Wow, what if—

NO. She was not going there. She had enough on her plate trying to learn the damn Irish pantheon. She turned dazed eyes to Ronan and waved him on.

"Well, that's nearly it. Lugh could nae undo her spell and couldn't force her to undo it. He tried to make her change it, but that didn't work either. The magic is wielded by the gods, but born of the land. Stubborn it is, just like the lot of us. She was right pleased to have one of his own under her thumb anyway, which put some steel in her spine. She wouldn't budge."               

"When did this happen? Moiré said the legend was from the Dark Ages, but was it really that long ago or..." Lacey's voice trailed off as Ronan's head came up.

"I first became
faoladh
in the year 589," he said, his eyes boring into hers. “That part of the tale is true.” Lacey's fingers dug into her thighs.

She was sitting on a wall in Ireland, talking to a fifteen hundred year old werewolf. Lovely.

Well, at least he looked good for his age.              

She smothered a mad giggle, which had Ronan giving her a strange look.

Something else occurred to her, something that drained away the urge for hysterical laughter completely. "What about your family?" she gasped. "Shouldn't they be..."

"Dead? Long dead and buried." Ronan sighed. "Aye. But that's entirely Lugh's doing. And my folks. I was set against it. I fought them tooth and nail for nigh twenty years, but they would have it their way."

"But the children?" She interrupted him, horror-struck. "Are you saying Colin has been five years old for over a
millennium
? How does that work, how do they not go…"

"Mad?" he finished for her, his voice terribly soft. "I donna know. But it's the honest truth, it seems to nae affect them as you'd think. Oh, they're old for their age..."

Was that ever an understatement!
Lacey thought.

"And smarter than little professors, though they hide it well enough. But Lugh's magic protects their minds in some way. Mam and the others, too. They have long stretches they donna remember, where 'tis almost like they've been sleep-walking through whole centuries." Ronan sighed and rolled his shoulders.

"But not you?" she asked quietly.

He didn't pretend not to understand her.

"Nae," he said. "No' me. I remember every day, every hour, every minute."

Her mind recoiled, thinking of that kind of loneliness. Yes, Ronan had his family, but in the end he was still awfully, terribly alone.

"What good did it do then?” Lacey was trying to understand, but it seemed such utter madness. And so pointless. “To keep them all with you? Lugh doesn't sound very kind at all—or smart—if you ask me!"

"Hush," Ronan said mildly. "I've only got one god on my side. Do ye mind not pissing him off?'             

"Oh," Lacey felt her cheeks heat, and gave a purely reflexive glance over her shoulder, where the sun was sliding down the small mountain. Though it seemed to have barely moved since they'd sat down. It felt like hours should have passed. "I didn't mean...I just meant…well…. What good
did
it do?"

“The main thing is, the curse didn't spread. To the rest of them." Ronan shrugged. "I'm still the eldest, and I will always be. If the other generation had grown up, I would have died and it would have moved on to them.

Lacey thought of Michael and Shelagh's oldest son. The skinny boy with the tawny hair and freckles who had blushed whenever she looked directly at him over the dinner table last night. Eamon. Her throat tightened as she watched Ronan's profile.

"As long as I donna get killed, we'll be together, unchanged. Tha' was what Lugh promised me Da and Mam. But I don't think Lugh really wanted to do it this way. I am damme
sure
he never intended it to go on this long. But gods donna think of time as we do, mind. He kept thinking he'd find some way to force Aine to negate the curse, but then Da was killed. And I went a little wild. After that, Lugh realized he could use me the way I am." Ronan didn't even try to conceal the bitterness in his voice. "It was just too perfect, a creature of the night in service to the lord of the sun."

"What?" Lacey said. Now she was really confused. She thought Lugh was the good guy in this crazy story, a bit dim for a god, but not throwing tantrums like a toddler and cursing innocent people for his own amusement.

But Lacey had to hold up a hand when Ronan opened his mouth to continue, not sure she could take anymore without a break. She pushed off the wall with a sigh and turned to face the great hill, stretching her legs and arms a bit to work off the chill settling into her bones.

A figure moved beyond the stones, catching Lacey's tired eyes.

Moiré must have had too many nerves to work out with the front gardens alone. She looked to have gone on a hike because she was headed down the last slope of the far hill, coming toward them from the shadowed area at its base. Lacey lifted a hand.

Ronan blinked at her. Facing her, he couldn't see the figure—which hadn't raised its hand in response to her wave—Lacey noted with a puzzled frown.

"It's your mother." She said, pointing behind him when Ronan continued to stare at her quizzically. He gave a start of surprise and turned his head.

"But how..." his voice cut off with a snap when he saw the figure. It approaching very swiftly now, Lacey thought with a twinge of alarm. Moiré was running flat out. Something must be wrong! But…

Surely a woman her age couldn't run that
fast
, and so smoothly, like her feet weren't even touching the ground...

The hair stood up on the back of Lacey's neck just as Ronan seized her arm in a grip so tight, she gave a cry of fright and pain. He ignored her.

"Tha' is
nae
my mother." he said, his voice low and fiercely urgent. "Lacey, listen to me!
Do exactly as I say.
Follow the path to the woods..."

She gave a terrified moan, shaking her head as the thought of the dream immediately clawed at her.

"Listen!" Ronan snapped, giving her arm a sharp jerk. "You donna have to go in the woods themselves! There's a cottage—just before ye enter the treeline. Go inside and get the sword hanging behind the front door. Bring it back to me, as quick as you can!"

The figure had grown closer, it was almost close enough to leap over the wall. She could see Moiré's face beneath the hood, but it was like she was looking at a Moiré behind black glass, black glass that rippled and distorted like churning water. That twisted face smiled at her and Lacey saw teeth—row upon row of needle sharp teeth. Thousands of teeth, hundreds of rows circling all way down a horribly monstrous throat that seemed to be expanding as she watched.

It was gathering itself to leap—

Lacey yanked her arm out of Ronan's grasp so quickly, she threw him off-balance.  He recovered instantly and she saw him pivot out of the corner of her eye, preparing to meet it, whatever
it
was.

Lacey didn't wait to see them collide, even though she couldn't stop herself hearing it. There was a high-pitched gurgling that warbled up and down like demented laughter, and Ronan yelling, first in fury, when once—sharply—in pain. Lacey began to sob as she flew down the foot path, not even feeling the stones cut into her bare feet, not daring to look behind her.