Page 47 of Evil Eyed
I stepped up between Doran and Warwick to look at the distinctive spires jutting up out of the ocean. It didn’t look like people could have ever lived there, though it would certainly be impenetrable.
Keane pointed to the rocks at the end of the line furthest out into the water. “Supposedly that’s where Evil Eye locked his daughter, Eithne, in a tower to prevent the fulfillment of the prophecy that one of her children who’d grow up to kill him.”
“Tor Mór,” Warwick replied. “The High Tower.”
“She had triplets, and Balor threw them into the sea. Only one survived.”
“Lug of the Longarm,” Aidan said.
“You’re the Spear of Lug,” I mused, trying to put the pieces of mythology together. Though perhaps in the end it didn’t matter. In the stories, Balor may have been killed by Lug on the plain where Bres’ pillars once stood—but Bres went on to be the changeling who’d tormented me, and Balor had been killing my treasures for thousands of years. “How did Lug kill him?”
“The stories vary.” Aidan shrugged. “Some say Lug overheard Balor bragging about killing his father, and he simply pulled out a red-hot poker and shoved it through his horrible eye. Others say that Lug used a slingshot to kill him. The evil eye burned a crater into the ground and eventually turned into Lough na Súil, the Lake of the Eye.”
“Like David and Goliath.”
He shrugged again. “That’s the problem with mythical stories. They usually share commonalities because they came from the same place or bore the same message, just told slightly differently by the people in that region.”
We fell silent a moment, staring out at the remains of what might have been Balor’s ancient fort. I could almost see the foundations of walls rising up from the cliffs. Hear the shout of soldiers on guard around the towers. A woman, leaning out over the treacherous seas below, sobbing for her babies and her lost lover.
“How do we get to Dún Bhalair from here?”
A man’s chuckle echoed from everywhere and then Boss Man appeared, striding across the grassy hill toward us. “You’re already here. Welcome to my home, treasurekeeper.”
27
Ibarely got a look at him before Doran slid over in front of me. The four Irish treasures formed a solid wall around me. Doran bristled, his tail snapping side to side along the ground, his claws raking the earth. Aidan deliberately clashed his swords together. Keane flipped a switch on his flamethrower, ready to bathe the hill in fire. Already shining with pure, golden light, Ivarr slowly drew the massive broadsword that hung down his back over his shoulder in a long metallic rasp of warning.
Warwick’s palm settled in the small of my back, ready to sweep me away to the Summer Isle.
Leaving my men to die.
:Don’t you dare,:I whispered harshly.
He didn’t answer me. I’d seen the way he and Aidan had shaken hands earlier. They expected to get me out at all costs, no matter what happened.We’ll see about that.
“Now, now, Stoneheart, why the threats? I gave my word that I would not kill any of you.”
“Aye, so you did, Evil Eye, though you gave no such promise for anyone else at your command.”
I ducked beneath Doran’s wing and stepped up beside him so I could see. Appearing as a very human-looking man, Sloan Archer stood before us as Boss Man, not the formidable Cyclops fae of legend. He wore an expensive-looking blue-gray suit and a deeper sapphire tie that brought out the brilliant blue of his eyes. His sandy brown hair was expertly styled in a modern wave across his forehead. Unlike Jonathan—who’d always seemed so desperate to make sure people realized how wealthy and successful he was—Boss Man didn’t wear a gaudy watch or any jewelry.
“Where’s Vivi?” My voice rang a little too shrilly, betraying my nerves.
“She’s waiting for us inside.”
My gaze flickered over toward the rocky strip where his castle had supposedly been, but it still looked the same to me. Inhabitable, rough cliffs and stone.
“Come now, my friends.” He smiled, spreading his hands out, palm up, before him. “I know it’s been a very long time, even for me, but I haven’t forgotten the rules of hospitality. I welcome you to break your fast at my table.”
:Wait, is this a trap?:I asked through our bonds.:Like Persephone getting trapped in the Underworld because she ate some pomegranate seeds?:
:I don’t believe so,:Doran replied.:The rules of hospitality be clear. What do you think, Keane?:
:I’d be worried for regular humans consuming food or drink in Faerie, but not the treasurekeeper, let alone one who’s fae herself.:
Despite his assurance, none of us moved.
Aidan growled through our bond.:Something smells fucking rotten and it’s not a fucking fish.:
