“When you called Nuada into this world he came through this glade at the same time I did, so he found me instead of you. He went to my home.” I spoke the words clearly and slowly. “He almost killed my father.”
“Lies,” she hissed. “You tell these lies because you can not bear the thought of me being more powerful than you.”
“I don’t give a shit how powerful you are, you moron!” I spit back at her. “I don’t even want to friggin be in this world. I’d be back in Partholon by now if you hadn’t resurrected that damn creature and brought him here. The only reason I’m still in Oklahoma is because I need to clean up your mess. Again.”
“You will not speak to me like this.” Her voice had gone flat and dangerous. Even her expression had shifted into something that looked like no reflection my mirror had ever shown me. She was suddenly a very foreign being.
“Look, Rhiannon. You’re not in Partholon anymore, and I’m not one of your bullied slaves. You don’t scare me and I’ll speak to you any damn way I want to speak to you. I wanted to be nice to you, especially after Epona showed me what happened in your past to make you so damn hateful.”
Rhiannon’s body jerked like I’d struck her, but I kept talking.
“But you’re not making this very easy. I think your problem is you’ve never been told no, so you blundered through your spoiled brat of a life screwing up at every turn. Now you’re a selfish, hateful bitch. Under normal circumstances I’d leave you alone to plow your way through several divorces and hope you eventually come to realize you need some serious therapy, but the problem with that is you’ve gone over to the friggin Dark Side and somehow managed to unleash a malevolent, crazed being into this world. Shit, Rhiannon, in case you don’t know it,” I said sarcastically, “it doesn’t usually blizzard in Oklahoma. It’s unnatural, just like the magic you’ve been working.” I took a step closer to her. “Now I want you to friggin send that damn creature back to hell or wherever so I can get back to where I belong.”
“I will send the creature—” Rhiannon’s voice was cold and tightly controlled. “To where he belongs. Watch and learn, schoolteacher.”
Abruptly she turned from me and with a wordless shout she raised her arms over her head. Bres’s silent prayer suddenly became audible. The words were unrecognizable, but my body’s reaction to them was intense. The hair on my arms stood on end and I felt power surround me as if we had been caught in the middle of an electrical storm. Then Rhiannon’s lilting accent joined Bres’s harsh, guttural voice. She stepped closer to him, but I noticed she was careful not to cross the melted circumference of the circle.
Without raising his head he reached toward her, unclasping his hands. An object nestled against his open palm. Even in the gray light of the snow-filtered day the blade glittered dangerously.
“Oh, friggin great,” I muttered, readying myself to either rush forward and knock the blade from his hand, or hide my eyes like I was watching a scary movie. While I was still deciding which I should do, Bres raised his face, and I was horrified to see his features change, shift, reform like he’d been incompletely fashioned from unfired clay. First his mouth and nose closed, appearing to be seared shut, and then his eyes glowed and glared. Then they weren’t eyes anymore, but cavernous black holes, and his mouth was a fanged horror. His face changed again, and I was staring at the most incredibly beautiful man I’d ever seen. I blinked and swallowed bile, and he was once again skeletal Bres.
Rhiannon didn’t react at all to his awful transformation. She took the knife from him, and in two quick, jerky motions like she was some kind of demented, bad-spelling Zorro, she slashed a huge red X across his chest. Instantly blood began seeping from the wounds and trickling down his bare skin.
At the appearance of the blood, the tempo of their litany increased dramatically. From the corner of my vision the movement of a dark shape flickered. Turning quickly in the direction of the shape, I felt my stomach clench. My own blood went cold.
The inky blackness surged forward. Rhiannon must have sensed his presence because she turned, too. When she saw the oil-like shape her eyes narrowed and the words of her litany changed, but still the only thing recognizable about it was the creature’s name.
“Nuada eirich mo dhu! Nuada eirich mo dhu! Nuada eirich mo dhu…”
It went on and on, like a stuck record. I watched as the blackness that was Nuada began to rise up and solidify into a recognizable form. Talons grew from appendages that resembled hands. Legs separated with a quiver and took on humanoid form. And wings spread. His face rippled and a mouthlike maw opened to form words.
“Female,” the words gurgled from his throat. “I am here at your bidding.”
His attention was focused on Rhiannon. He didn’t seem to notice my presence.
“I honor your obedience…” Rhiannon’s voice was seductive. “And now I further command you to inhabit the body of my servant.”
Something that may have been laughter bubbled from his horrible mouth. “You have the power to awaken me, female. But your pitiful blood offering is not enough to command me.” He slithered closer to where we stood. “You have been a fool. I have no desire to be your servant, but I do desire to taste of you.”
With unexpected quickness, Rhiannon lunged forward and grabbed my arm.
“What the hell are you doing!” I yelled, trying to pull away from her and still keep an eye on Nuada, who kept moving closer to us. At my shout he halted.
“I see there are two of you,” his voice whispered. “All the better, females. All the better.” His laughter hissed.
Suddenly Rhiannon pulled me roughly into her, and in the same swift, sure movement she brought up the hand that held the stiletto. Then everything happened very quickly, like someone had pressed a giant fast-forward button and our lives responded. I felt a searing pain in my side, and something sharp crunched sickeningly against my rib.
My thoughts fluttered wildly. Oh, Goddess! Has she killed my daughter? My body went numb and I felt nothing except the damp warmth of blood. My knees were weak. Through the odd humming in my ears I heard Clint’s agonized shout.
Cruelly Rhiannon slashed the material that had been my coat, and with a great ripping sound she tore through the layers of clothing that were already becoming red soaked, exposing the deep, ugly wound high on my left side. I felt like I had been turned to stone as I watched her pink tongue snake out and lick the blood from the knife blade.
At the sight of my blood Nuada’s body quivered and jerked spasmodically.
“Now I command you!” Rhiannon’s voice sounded magnified as it echoed through the glade. “With this blood you are bound to me—for it is as if I sacrificed my blood and my body—the blood and body of a Priestess, Epona’s own Chosen. You must obey.” I felt my knees give way, but Rhiannon’s unnatural strength held me erect so that I was still facing Nuada. “Enter my servant!” she shrieked.
At her final command Nuada’s body lost all semblance of form, and pooled black and poisonous against the clean whiteness of the snow-covered glade. The oily blackness that was Nuada surged forward, entering the circle at the same instant Clint burst from the tree line. It covered Bres’s chanting body. The slick surface quivered for a moment, then Bres’s body absorbed Nuada. His chanting stopped and slowly he lifted his head. Bres’s eyes opened. They glowed red.
“Shannon!” Clint’s voice sounded far away, but I could see that he was just feet from me. I tried to answer him, but Rhiannon hurled me at him with a snarl.
“I should have known you would be here.”
I felt Clint’s arms enclose me, and he dropped to his knees, trying to cradle my body protectively.
“What have you done, Rhiannon?” Clint’s voice broke and he pulled frantically at his scarf, then balled it in his hand and pressed it against the bleeding wound in my side.
“And I should have known you would choose her,” Rhiannon’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You have always been weak. I pray that your daughte
r will be born with my strength.”
I felt Clint jerk as if she had slapped him. “Daughter…no, you couldn’t be.”
Rhiannon laughed. “Of course I could be. Though I haven’t decided yet whether I’ll actually keep this child or not.”
Clint shifted me in his arms so that he could free his right hand. I felt him unzip his coat and reach within. When his hand emerged it held the gun. His aim was rock steady as he pointed the muzzle at Rhiannon.
Her body went very still, and I saw her eyes flicker back and forth from Clint to the man-creature that crouched motionless within the circle.
“I should have killed you the night I realized what you were.” Clint sounded calm and rational, totally at odds with the bizarre situation.
“But you could not kill me,” Rhiannon purred. “Instead, you played our little games. Do not pretend you do not still remember the feel of your hard cock as it entered my body and pounded into me over and over…and as we did other things in the dark of the night. Remember how your blood spurted with your seed as you let me slice open that throbbing cock, and then orgasm in my mouth.”
Clint’s arm tightened around me when he answered. “Until last night I would have said you were right. I have been haunted by the things we did together…” Clint’s eyes flashed to Bres’s still form. “…All of us. But no more. I’ve been healed of you and your filth.” I could feel his muscles tense as his hand tightened around the gun. “The best thing I could do for this world would be to put you, and any child you conceived, out of your misery.”
It took a tremendous effort for me to force my hand to move to Clint’s arm. At my touch his eyes found mine.
“Remember your promise.” My voice was stronger than I imagined it would be. It sounded ethereal and otherworldly, like it hadn’t emerged from my body at all. “You gave me your oath.”
Clint’s jaw clenched and I watched him war with himself. Slowly, he lowered the hand that held the gun.
Rhiannon’s mocking laughter surrounded us.
“Weak! Always weak. What a broken, pitiful shadow you are of what you might have been. You are no threat to me.” Still laughing, she turned her back on us and stalked to the edge of the circle.
She stopped inches from the melted snow. The Bres creature devoured her with his red-glowing eyes.
“Nuada…” The name rolled seductively off her tongue. “You did not think me powerful enough to command your obedience. Now who has been the fool?” Rhiannon’s breathy voice demanded.
“I have been the fool, mistress,” the voice of the man who had once been Bres echoed liquidly.
“And who will you now obey, Nuada?” she prompted.
The newly inhabited body twitched spasmodically. The answer was almost a snarl.
“I will obey you, mistress.” The words were subservient, but his tone was dangerously condescending, as if he spoke to an overindulged child.
Suddenly Rhiannon’s hand shot out, striking the body that held Nuada viciously across the face. I noticed that when her hand broke the space above the circle the air appeared to ripple, like she had to force her hand through an invisible barrier. Instantly a thick red welt, much more pronounced than a normal open-handed slap should have produced, puckered the pale skin of Bres’s face.
“You will learn the proper way to speak to me. And I will enjoy teaching you that lesson.”
I felt Clint stiffen at her words and glanced at his face. It was set and hard. It was obvious he, too, had been privy to Rhiannon’s perverted instruction.
“This stops now,” he said with finality.
Still holding me, he shrugged out of his coat, and then one-handed pulled his thick sweater quickly over his head so that he wore only his jeans and a T-shirt. Quickly he propped the sweater behind my back so that my head and shoulder didn’t have to rest against the snow-covered ground. Then he laid his coat over me. It was still warm with the heat of his body.
His movements had caused the creature’s gaze to waver from its mistress, and seeing that she no longer held its full attention Rhiannon whirled around, eyes slitted dangerously.
When she saw Clint standing there her expression shifted from war-ready to amused.
“Did you, too, need another lesson in obedience?” she goaded.
“Not likely,” Clint answered as he raised his gun and sighted. I took in a deep, painful breath to yell at him to stop, but the instant before he squeezed the trigger he shifted his aim from Rhiannon to the creature within the circle.
The sound of the shot was deafening, but it didn’t cover the shriek of madness that tore from Rhiannon’s throat as a crimson-ringed hole blossomed in the middle of the Bres creature’s forehead.
“No!” she screamed as the body crumpled to its knees then fell heavily forward, exposing the bloody crater that just seconds before had been the back of Bres’s head.
Rhiannon tore her eyes from the body of her servant and stared at Clint. When she spoke, spittle flaked from her bronzed lips and she looked vaguely disoriented. “You killed him. You should not have been able to harm him within the power of the drawn circle.”
Clint shrugged his shoulders and met her wild gaze evenly. “It would probably help in the future if you remembered that this is Oklahoma. You’re not in Partholon anymore, and bullets don’t give a good goddamn about a circle of melted snow.”
“Especially when they are wielded by a High Shaman,” I added. Clint and Rhiannon blinked at me in surprise. My side felt like it was on fire, but my voice was amazingly strong (which I thought might either be a good sign or a sign I was having a last-minute adrenaline surge before dying tragically).
Behind Rhiannon I saw movement. Bres’s dead body twitched and writhed, calling our attention back to the aforementioned circle. With a sickeningly wet sound the liquid darkness that was Nuada pulled free and lifted from the corpse.
“Oh, shit,” I said.
Rhiannon’s twisted smile answered my words. Her laughter bubbled hysterically and I understood suddenly that she must be totally mad.
“What will your bullets do against this, Shaman?” she sneered. Then she faced the creature. “You are still mine. My blood still holds you.” She pointed a shaking finger at Clint. “Destroy him.”
CHAPTER 6
Slowly, the pool of darkness responded to Rhiannon’s command by drawing itself up. As I watched in horrified silence, it began to solidify once again and the evil mound took on shape and form.
Struggling, I pushed myself painfully to a sitting position. I needed to get to a tree, any friggin tree. Plan A would, of course, be to get to one of the ancient pin oaks; I knew the power they held. But they were within the circle, and Nuada was between them and me. I looked frantically at the tree line. The nearest tree was probably a hundred feet away. Looks like it was time for Plan B.
Grinding my teeth together I tried to stand, and fell immediately and painfully back onto my butt. Seems my legs weren’t going to cooperate. I opened my mouth to call Clint, and closed it again.
Clint was standing very still. He was lifting his arms slowly up and away from his body. I could hear that he was chanting, but I couldn’t decipher the words.
I looked quickly from him to Rhiannon. Her attention was focused not on Clint (or on me, for that matter). Instead, she was moving methodically around the circumference of the circle, crooning the words mo muirninn to the re-forming creature as if it was an endearment. Every few feet she took the pointed toe of her leather boot and drew a sharp cut in the skin of the circle. When she had broken the circle in one place, she made her way around several more feet of its melted circumference, where she repeated the bizarre procedure. All the while she kept up the crooning.
Then Clint’s words became audible to me and my gaze flew back to the Shaman. His aura was shimmering in a jeweled light that pulsed wildly around him, and he appeared suddenly so strong and powerful that the sight brought tears to my eyes. He was standing with his legs planted shoulder width apart.
His arms were now almost straight above him. His hands appeared to reach up into the air as if he was calling the sky down upon us. His head was tilted back in the way ClanFintan had positioned himself as he called the Change to him.
Clint’s voice had taken on a singsong quality totally unlike the chants I had become familiar with in Partholon. Instead, his words were punctuated with a deep, primitive beat that I could feel pulsing through the air around us. I listened intently.
“I command a power not to be explained in simple words.
I call the spirits that support the world, the weather, all life.
I command not by words but by storm and snow and rain and the fury of the wilderness untamed.
I call the spirits that men fear, always among us yet infinitely far away.
I command with a voice so fine and gentle even innocent children cannot be afraid, for I hold the power of growing trees, the murmur of leaves rustling, the rays of the sun and the bud breaking into blossom.
I call you forth to me through the wind.”
Clint’s body turned to his right.
“I call you forth to me through the rain.”
Again, he turned.
“I call you forth to me through the fire.”
With his next words he completed his own circle.
“I call you forth to me through the earth.”
As his words ended Clint’s arms dropped and he peered around him as if he was just awakening from an overpowering dream. The blue of his aura was still glistening, but I saw nothing changed about him or the area that surrounded him.
Oh, Goddess, I prayed silently. If whatever he was doing didn’t work, help me get to the trees so that we stand a chance of defeating Nuada. With that thought I pushed my legs underneath me and began trying to scoot my way to the tree line. I glanced up to keep a check on how far away the elusive safety appeared.
And I blinked in confusion. Rubbing my eyes, I was sure my vision must be screwed up from my wound. Forgetting about Clint and Rhiannon, and even Nuada, I stared at the line of trees and brambly bushes that ringed the ancient clearing.