Page 13 of A Dark and Lovely Devastation

Oh god. My clothes were at the pond’s bottom. I stood before him, shaking from the cold, in nothing but my soaking underwear, my tits shoving out under the too-thin cloth of my bra. I rushed behind a bush and shrunk down, pulling my knees against my chest as I fought to gain control of my rapid breathing.

Okay, don’t panic, Chels. You are just going crazy. That’s all. But why and how?

I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything. Dried needles poked at the soles of my feet. I moaned, pressing my forehead to my knees.

The rustling of the bush caused me to jump. I flung my hand over my mouth. I made out Dagda’s outline through the leaves, and I trembled at the possibility of him coming around the bush, of him seeing me in this vulnerable state.

A black t-shirt and his leather jacket rested among branches.

“Put these on,” Dagda said in a quiet voice.

Then he was gone.

I pulled the shirt off the bush and slid it over my head. The bottom reached to my thighs and a sigh escaped. Rising to my feet, I grabbed the jacket and thrust my freezing arms into the sleeves. The warmth permeated through me, mixing with the rich musky scent of earth and smoke. I breathed it in.

So much better. I inched out from behind the bush. Dagda sat by the pond, jeans on, his long legs pulled up, arms resting on his knees. He stared out over the water as it rippled and lapped against the shore.

I should thank him for the clothes. Instead, I moved toward the trees, set to leave without another word.

“I can explain what is happening to you.”

It was the one thing he could’ve said that would cause me to pause.

I turned. “Whatishappening to me?”

“It is a lengthy tale. You may wish to sit.” He patted the grass next to him.

I didn’t like him dictating terms. So I plopped down right where I was. I removed Dagda’s jacket and laid it over my chilled legs. “Go ahead.”

He spun to face me, not seeming bothered by the fact that I left so much space between us. The vastness in his eyes threatened to swallow me, and I avoided meeting them. My gaze traced over his muscled shoulders and took in the faerie guardian on his arm. A wild creature made of fire, but still curiously in the shape of a man. I found myself tempted to run my finger over the curving, fiery swirls, the yellows and oranges.

“The story begins hundreds of years ago, long before the creation of the Otherworld,” he said. “Back before humans turned on all things magical. There were three sisters, distinct and separate. The eldest sister, Badb, faerie of the sky, was a warrior, strong and cunning. She reveled in conflict and the blood of the battlefield. The second sister, Macha, was a faerie of the earth. She loved nature and everything instinctual and sensual. And then there was the youngest sister, Morrigan.”

He said the name like a caress, and I looked into his face. The softest of smiles played on his lips, his eyes distant, already lost in the story.

“She was born without a natural affinity—unheard of for a faerie,” he continued. “Badb and Macha mocked their sister for her lack of magic. They treated her as their servant, forcing her to do the grisliest of tasks. To defend herself, Morrigan secretly delved into the art of sorcery.”

“Good.” A sense of satisfaction coursed through me, liking the idea that Morrigan—Ifought back. Even if it was in a different life.

Dagda blinked, as if I’d startled him out of a long-lost memory. His expression darkened. “She improved her skills until one day she was ready to face her sisters. On the day that Badb returned from battle, she sprung her trap. She caught and magically bound both her sisters, intending to make them swear a binding oath to treat her as an equal. Morrigan didn’t realize that Badb had returned from battle to warn them that their home was about to be overrun by demons.

“Morrigan called upon all her knowledge and power to fight off the demon horde. But it wasn’t enough. Macha was mortally wounded, and in desperation, Morrigan summoned the bog witch.”

An ache gripped my stomach. I cleared my throat, picking at the dirt to hide my reaction from Dagda. “What’s a bog witch?”

“A hermit creature of great magic,” he said. “The bog witch was angry, for her home had also been overrun by the invading demons. She would help, but Morrigan had to agree to bind her sisters to her. Macha to save her life, and Badb because of her unbridled bloodlust. You see, it was her ruthlessness that caused the battle with the demons. Morrigan had no other choice. She agreed, and the bog witch bound her sisters to live inside of her.”

I stared at him, his explanation leeching the warmth from my body. My words escaped in a hoarse whisper. “What are you saying?”

His brows drew down, and he spoke in a low voice. “The witch understood that the power to hold Morrigan’s sisters within her became tenuous with each new life. So she set conditions. Badb and Macha would be bound for the first eighteen years of Morrigan’s life. However, on the anniversary of her nineteenth year, Badb and Macha would awaken and grow more powerful, slowly consuming Morrigan.”

Consuming me.I twisted the light cotton of Dagda’s shirt around my fingers and bit the inside of my lip.

“Samhain is the day that disembodied souls gain the most power. The closer it draws near, the stronger they will become,” he said. “But there is one chance to stop your sisters.”

I leaned forward. The dirt of the forest floor scratched against my bare calves. “How?”

“On Samhain, return to the bog witch. Bring your sisters into submission once more. Renew the bargain that was made and become ruler over them.”

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