Page 49 of Evil Eyed
“Touch one hair on her head and your head is mine,” Aidan growled.
Boss Man laughed, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t dare, Slaughterer.”
There was a sinister thread to his joviality. A snide edge, as if he was laughing at us. And why not? He’d already defeated them countless times through the ages. Why should this time be any different?
Eyes closed, surrounded by more love than I’d ever thought possible, magic rippled through me. The brilliant, spinning wheel waited in my mind, ready to serve as the conduit for treasure and leprechaun magic.
Plus my magic. I’d painted us here. I’d left clues from my parents—before I’d even known them as such—in my painting. Warwick brought the full might of Queen Morgan’s court. Vanta’s purr thundered in my head. The mightiest heart pounded beneath my ear, a steady, formidable drum of honor and love.
I sank deeper into those comforting sounds, and just let go.
All my fears and doubts. My dread and desperate agony at the thought of losing even one of my men. My dismal childhood. My worry for Vivi. Sinking deeper within myself, my breathing steadied and slowed. Deeper into the quiet darkness of my innermost mind, something gleamed. A hint of gold against the darkness.
For a moment, I stood on the dark plain again, only this time I stared into shining fiery gold eyes. The tombstone-sized stone was now as tall as me, and the carving a better representation of a man with distinct features. He didn’t smile or speak but his eyes burned with a steady promise that sparked inside me.
Rage.
All the times I’d been silenced, hurt, and manipulated by Jonathan’s abuse and lies. The horrible ways Vanta and the treasures had died, sacrificing themselves over and over. Burning themselves up. Losing their heads. Loving and dying, over and over and over, for a world that didn’t even care.
So much pain and death and for what? No fucking reason whatsoever. Darkness still won. Balor always regrouped and came away stronger than ever. More monsters roamed the world, feasting and ravaging with no consequences.
No more. The god had awoken, and he wanted justice. He wanted blood.
If it meant Balor died—and my men lived—then I would find a way to give him exactly what he wanted.
Blinking away the vision, I lifted my head from Doran’s side. My chin came up. My shoulders straightened. The wheel inside me began to spin, weaving all our gifts together, though this time, I had something new to add to the magic flowing through me.
Black velvety shadows, a parting gift of death from my father.
I’m the motherfucking treasurekeeper of the Irish treasures. Daughter of Étain, the Shining One, and Crouching Darkness, Cromm Crúaich, head of the gods.
I will have justice. Justice for the world, for my men, and for me.
29
At the edge of the cliff, a shimmering bridge arched across to Dún Bhalair. Even without the hag stone, it looked like a giant, clear bubble, transparent but also reflecting pearly light. Without hesitation, Boss Man stepped out onto the fragile-looking bridge and then paused, looking back at us expectantly with a challenging glint in his eyes.
I tried not to think about the fall down a jagged, rocky cliff into angry waves and tentacles if he changed his mind and let the bridge disintegrate into thin air. My stomach quivered and I gripped Doran’s arm in a white-knuckled hold as we started across.Don’t look down.
Something thwacked against the bottom of the bridge, rocking the entire delicate structure. An embarrassingly high-pitched squeal escaped my lips. Oh shit. Tentacles that could reach up that high…
What was it, forty feet? Further? I sucked at estimating distances. But the motherfucker had to be some kind of mythical kraken to grow so big.
“Forgive my guardians.” Boss Man laughed. “They’re overly enthusiastic at the prospect of having guests. It’s been so long.”
:Guests my ass,:Aidan growled.:He means they’re starving to death because he hasn’t thrown anyone into the sea in the past couple of hundred years.:
:We’ll be but a wee snack for them,:Ivarr replied.:Even Doran.:
:They’ll find me a tough, grisly bone that sticks in their craw,:Aidan fired back.
As we neared the opposite side, I could see a faint shimmer in the air. Without the hag stone, it looked like tiny, glistening dewdrops. My brain chittered nervously with a thousand questions. What would happen to us once we passed through? Would it prevent us from getting out? What would it feel like? Why didn’tShamrockedhave that kind of curtain protecting it from the mortals who might stumble inside?
:That I can answer,:Warwick replied.:Me pub sits half in the mortal realm, and half in Faerie. Thus there’s no visible veil to pierce. I wanted you to be able to walk inside if you were so drawn, but I had to change the wards once the changeling found me. Evil Eye created this boundary himself, likely as a show of his power. He melded Dún Bhalair with the physical site on the mortal plane rather than transporting us to Faerie. There’s no fae boundary to cross.:
:But I saw it through the hag stone. Was it still just some kind of glamor?:
:Aye, a glamor of a glamor, fae magic at work. You saw the magic—as he wanted you to see it. It’s not actually in Faerie, though he might wish you to think so. What you saw was nothing more than a glamored copy of the realDún Bhalair.:
