The Wicked Read online

  But before those beasts could even be routed, the D’Danann and the San Francisco witches had an entirely new threat to deal with.

  Ceithlenn.

  The goddess who had been imprisoned in Underworld with her husband, Balor, all those centuries ago. This time Ceithlenn’s evil soul had taken over the body of a young, powerful, female warlock.

  Keir had seen it for himself during their last battle, before the door to Underworld had been shut. The threat was unmistakable, yet it was unknown how the D’Danann and witches would fight this new being.

  Rhona and Tegan continued to spar in the air, a perfect dance of power and grace. But not fierce enough to suit Keir. He had to ensure they would be prepared to battle anything they faced.

  The loss of even a single life was one too many, and he would not see one of his brethren fall if he could help it in any way.

  He spread his great black wings at the same moment he unsheathed his sword and in two wing thrusts was at the center of the mock battle.

  “You must be ruthless,” he growled as he blocked sword blows from both Rhona and Tegan, who now worked as a team against him. “The Fomorii will not spar with you.”

  He drove his sword at Rhona’s midsection. She barely blocked it, and the power of his stroke was so great that she grunted with the effort.

  “With one swipe of their claws,” Keir continued as he spun in the air to parry with Tegan, “the demons will bring you down. Never forget that many of the Fomorii tip their claws with iron now, making them poisonous to the D’Danann. To all Fae.”

  Keir growled low in his throat. “Show them no mercy.” In two swift blows, Keir had both Rhona and Tegan dropping from the air to land on the dirt of the training yard. “You can expect none from them.”

  The two warriors looked chagrined as Keir touched down between them, sheathed his sword, and folded his wings away.

  Rhona’s and Tegan’s hair plastered their foreheads. The sides of their faces glistened with sweat and they were breathing heavily as they folded their wings away as well. They must have been sparring for some time before Keir arrived. It was difficult to exhaust one of the D’Danann.

  “Come.” He slapped both Rhona and Tegan on their backs. “It is time for food and ale. In the morning we go to war.”

  The other warriors laughed and began joking with one another good-naturedly, and Keir felt a strange warmth in his chest. The D’Danann warriors were his family. The only real family he had ever known.

  He respected his brethren, relied on them in battle, and had confidence they would watch his back. No matter his rivalry against his brother, Keir trusted Hawk in war.

  Outside of war and training, Keir tended to keep to his own. But not now, when these warriors needed him to be the glue in their camaraderie and in battle. They were young and required the spirit of teamwork in every way.

  * * *

  After a fine meal of fresh cornbread drizzled with honey, roasted chicken, spinach, potatoes, and bread pudding, Keir made his way to his cabin in the woods outside the village.

  Keir had long ago chosen a simple cabin in the woods. He had no desire to live in the barracks with many of the D’Danann warriors, or in a treetop home, and certainly not like members of the court who resided in their great mansions.

  Solitude. It was what he preferred and was what he had. He chose to ignore the Dryads, Pixies, Faeries, and any other beings that might be nearby.

  Sometimes that was not so easy to do.

  Tonight, though, he thanked the gods the Pixies were not up to mischief around his home, decorating it with flowers or some odd nonsense.

  Not one of the mischievous Fae had dared to enter his sanctuary, but they had no compunctions about the area around his cabin.

  Wood scraped wood as he opened the door and then slammed it shut behind him. The three-room cabin was large and airy. He didn’t require much—just an open-beamed great room, a bedroom, a place to take a piss and a bath. All the furnishings were large, comfortable, and made for a man.

  He strode to his bedroom and grabbed his haversack, intending to pack some of his own supplies. The last time he was in the San Francisco Otherworld, he had been forced to use the perfumed soaps and shampoos of the witches.

  The moment he opened his pack, a tiny Faerie poked her head out.

  “Godsdamnit, Galia.” Keir scowled and opened his pack wider, releasing her lilac scent.

  The blonde Faerie rose out of his haversack with a mischievous expression on her perfect face. “Hi, warrior.”

  Pink Faerie dust sparkled in the air from her wings. She was no longer than his hand from the tip of his middle finger to his wrist, and her long hair reached past her knees, covering both her naked ass and her bare breasts.

  He snarled at her. “What are you doing here?”

  She fluttered up to his eye level and grinned. “I thought I would come for a visit.”

  Keir turned away and stomped to his bath chamber. “Out of my home.”

  Her laugh was like tiny bells. She darted ahead of him and landed on a cake of soap. It slipped and she giggled as she skated on the soap the length of the wooden shelf. She wove in and out of his bath items, barely missing his body gel and shaving gear, but knocking off the brush he used for his teeth.

  When she reached the end of the shelf she placed her palm out and threw up a shield to keep herself from sailing off and onto the floor.

  “Galia!” He jabbed his finger in the direction of the doorway. “Out!”

  After coming to an abrupt stop, the Faerie hopped off the cake of soap. “Are you going back to that Otherworld? The one called San Francisco?”

  “In the morning.” Keir grabbed the brush from the floor and jammed it and the other bath items into his bag. “Leave. Now.”

  She fluttered after him as he packed extra clothing and weapons. Pink Faerie dust glittered wherever she flew, and she darted just about everywhere, exploring his cabin despite his orders for her to leave.

  When he finished shoving items into his haversack, he tossed the bag by the front door. He yanked the door open and pointed out into the growing darkness. “Back to your Sidhe. Go.”

  Galia fluttered up to his face and startled him as she kissed his cheek with a feather-light touch before using her delicate wings to back away. “Such the big, bad warrior. You need to have a little fun.”

  “Out,” he growled when for some reason he wanted to smile. That thought had him scowling again.

  The Faerie giggled before swooping out of his home and into the twilight, pink sparkles and the scent of lilacs following in her wake.

  Keir shook his head. Galia had teased him often outside of his cabin, but like other Fae she had never been in his home. What made her trespass today? Apparently her desire to go to the San Francisco Otherworld.

  Pink dust. Damn. It would be weeks before he got the female-smelling lilacs out of the air.

  But he had far more pressing matters to be concerned with than one of the mischievous Fae.

  Ceithlenn.

  Keir was tempted to rouse his warriors and head to the San Francisco Otherworld tonight, but his men and women needed at least one good night’s rest before they went to war.

  After removing his weapons belt and setting it on a table, Keir went to a small corner of the great room to a chair positioned by the window where carved wooden figurines perched on the sill.

  Among the small figures were an elk, a squirrel, a hawk, and a raven. Keir settled into the chair, leaned forward, and reached for the box where he kept his tools.

  When he was but a boy, a Dryad had shown him how to bring the creatures to life that “lived” in the wood. No one, save for his Dryad teacher, was aware of his aptitude for this art form. It was simply something he chose to do to relax.

  Keir removed a large piece of cedar from a pile of assorted wood the Dryads had given him, grabbed one of his carving tools, and slid the metal into the cedar. He concentrated on bringing it to life.


  Only this time, for the first time, it was not an animal he carved, but a face. As the features formed he found himself shaping the head and shoulders of a woman he had never met.

  He couldn’t seem to stop himself. It was as if the face had to be released from the cedar before he left in the morning.

  When Keir finally finished, the wood polished until the features shone in the dim candlelight, it was late into the night.

  He blinked his tired eyes and stared at the face for a while. He stroked the cheek with his thumb, the polished wood as smooth as a woman’s skin.

  Why had he carved a face? The face of a woman he did not know?

  He shook his head, put away his carving tools, and set the face on the windowsill before heading to his bed. Despite the urgency he felt, he needed what rest he could get before leaving come morning.

  They were going to war.

  3

  SAN FRANCISCO

  * * *

  With a grunt of exertion, Rhiannon helped Sydney physically move a long table from one end of the once closed-off common room to the other. They set the table down with a loud thump.

  Rhiannon put her hands on her jean-clad hips, rolled her shoulders, and moved her neck from side to side to relieve some of the stress. Her auburn hair swung as she moved.

  It was only the night before last that she’d had the vision of Ceithlenn and the images still turned her stomach and caused the Fomorii scars on her cheek to burn.

  The common room was filled with the chatter of witches, warriors, and Paranormal Special Forces—PSF—officers all working together.

  As much as she wanted more D’Danann to get here and get here quick, she had no idea where they were going to put them. They’d probably have to sleep on the floor of their shared apartments until more rooms were ready.

  Yeah, they all needed more space. They would have to make the basement into a living area.

  Never mind the friggin’ grocery store and cookie factory they needed to buy to feed the warrior Fae. Thank the goddess for the wise investments most of the witches had made over the years.

  Dirt streaked Rhiannon’s cheeks and sweat rolled down the side of her face. The satisfaction of a job well done warmed her as she gazed around the room where everyone was working to move out old furniture, boxes, and assorted other items.

  Some years ago, Jake Macgregor, the PSF Captain, had inherited the apartment building, which was in the Haight-Ashbury district. The bunch of them had opened up the common room just today.

  The witches and D’Danann had used a combination of magic and muscle to set the room to rights in record time. With all the additional D’Danann warriors on the way from Otherworld, plus the warriors, officers, and witches already stationed in the building, they needed the space.

  “Much better,” Rhiannon said to Sydney.

  Spirit jumped onto a nearby couch. Her familiar gave a loud meow, perhaps agreeing, perhaps not.

  “Just a few more things to take care of.” Sydney leaned one hip against the table and adjusted her chic glasses. “Hopefully we’ll be done before the new bunch of warriors arrive.”

  Sydney had gorgeous hair and violet eyes that were only partially hidden by her glasses. She was the CEO of an advertising agency on Market Street in downtown San Francisco and usually wore fitted suits.

  Today was Saturday and she still managed to look great, dusty or no, in a pair of designer jeans and a lilac polo shirt.

  Next to her, Rhiannon felt frumpy in her snug purple jeans and her bright yellow “I heart San Francisco” T-shirt. It had been a little warm today, the sun out from behind the fog, and her skin had reddened from having been in the sunshine. She was so fair that the slightest exposure to sun went a long way.

  She wiped her palms on her jeans and gave a big sigh. So much done, so much more work to do. Other rooms needed attention, and she was certain they weren’t going to get it all done before the additional D’Danann Enforcers arrived.

  There was no way they’d be able to use the kitchen of Enchantments, the metaphysical shop they owned that was next door, as a meeting place any longer. They’d been pushing it as it was.

  Sydney’s Doberman familiar, Chaos, bounded into the room, headed straight for Sydney. The moment he reached her, he jumped up and planted his front paws on Sydney’s belly, leaving two dirty prints on her shirt. She laughed and rubbed the big lug behind his ears.

  Spirit hissed, laid back his own ears, and arched his back.

  “Oh, get over it.” Rhiannon shushed the cat, who had never taken to the Doberman.

  Much like he wasn’t crazy about Janis Arrowsmith’s mouse familiar, Mortimer. Rhiannon had been concerned more than once that Spirit would forget the “familiars don’t eat familiars” rule when it came to Mortimer.

  Chaos was harmless—but unfortunately lived up to his name. Well, he was harmless unless his mistress was threatened in any way.

  A cheer rose up as Cassia strode in with trays of food followed by Copper and Silver, who were laden with platters as well.

  The Doberman loped toward the witches carrying the food. Sydney groaned. “Pain-in-the-ass familiar,” she said as she went after him, leaving Rhiannon alone.

  Rhiannon grinned as Tiernan, one of the D’Danann, took the tray Copper was carrying despite her insistence that she could do it herself. He was having the hardest time getting her to take it easy and stay off her ankle cast. The copper-haired witch had broken her ankle in Otherworld when she went to battle to keep a door to Underworld closed.

  Tiernan ignored Copper’s protests and carried the platter to the table that Sydney and Rhiannon had just moved.

  Copper hobbled after him, her long braid slipping over her shoulder. “Dammit, Tiernan, I was doing just fine.” After he set the tray down he kissed her soundly and Copper melted into him.

  A twinge of envy gripped Rhiannon before she brushed it aside.

  Nothing lasted forever. People left. They left all the time. Her birth parents had abandoned her on Aunt Aga’s doorstep when she was only two.

  Growing up, she had learned almost nothing about them, let alone how she had inherited her Elvin blood. Aunt Aga was her mother’s much older sister, and she had made it very clear that she resented the burden of raising her niece.

  Rhiannon leaned her hip against the table laden with food and sighed.

  When Rhiannon’s strange ability had appeared, Aunt Aga had been so horrified, Rhiannon knew that the power was something bad. Maybe even something evil.

  When she turned eighteen, Aunt Aga had been only too happy to tell Rhiannon that she had to leave.

  Fortunately, Rhiannon had been able to live on a houseboat owned by a nice elderly couple she had befriended. When Silver gave her a job at the Coven’s metaphysical shop, she had moved into an apartment above the shop.

  Over the years, Rhiannon had dated here and there and had had two serious relationships. One had ended with her catching the guy with another woman. The other ended with the man leaving her for a woman who had kids.

  The only thing in her life that had seemed to last was her love for her Coven sisters and their love for her.

  Well, there was an exception to the rule, Hannah. That witch rubbed her the wrong way. Always invading her personal space—her “little box,” as Hannah liked to call it.

  Her Coven sisters loved her in return, but what if they found out about Rhiannon’s ability? She looked around the room at her friends. She had worried about that more than once.

  It was one thing to turn to sorcery.

  It was another thing to carry the darkness inside.

  What if they found out about the Shadows lurking within her? Would her chosen family still feel the same or would they react with disgust and horror the way Aunt Aga had?

  Rhiannon never intended to find out.

  Her stomach churned at the thoughts. She couldn’t begin to summon an appetite, no matter how good the food smelled on the table beside her.

  She shook
her head as all the D’Danann and PSF officers dug in. Trays of turkey sandwiches, huge bowls of Boston baked beans, potato salad, and macaroni salad. Platters of deviled eggs, freshly baked rolls, large arrangements of assorted vegetables and dip, bags of potato chips, pitchers of iced tea, soda pop, and orange juice.

  And not to forget dessert—chocolate, red velvet, and marble cakes. Oh, and the witches never left out the chocolate chip cookies, a huge favorite of Hawk’s. Cassia cooked almost full-time these days.

  Yeah, the D’Danann warriors definitely lived up to their legendary appetites. Now, if they would only find their Cauldron of Dagda, the witches wouldn’t have to fear going bankrupt trying to feed them.

  The god Dagda obtained a cauldron from the city of Murias and used it to feed his army of Tuatha D’Danann. The food in this magic cauldron never ran out and it had healing powers, as well as restoring the energy and strength of anyone who ate from it.

  Damned if they couldn’t use that all the way around.

  A large commotion started at the doorway to the common room and Rhiannon looked casually over to see a new group of leather-clad warriors entering the room.

  The D’Danann already stationed in San Francisco greeted the men and women with slaps to their backs and the kind of handshakes people used to do way back when—hand to elbow grips. Rhiannon liked the way they spoke with unusual accents, mostly thick Irish brogues.

  “Godsdamnit, Keir, what took you so long?” Hawk growled when he strode up to one of the warriors. “You should have been here two days ago.”

  Rhiannon had never seen this warrior before. Her heart thumped a little more than usual as she watched the stranger.

  “Always jumping into the fray without preparation, brother.” Keir’s scowl and the way he fisted his hands told Rhiannon the term brotherly love might be a bit lost on these two.

  Keir tossed a worn leather pack against the wall and Rhiannon thought she heard a faint “oof.” She swung her attention back to Keir, who was saying, “Seems you have yet to learn your lesson about planning.”