Blood-Bonded by Force (25 page)

A smile tilted Tonĩ’s lips. “The last year of my life has widened my perspective on many things, Idyll. You can trust I’m open-minded.”

“Wonderful.” Eyes bright, Idyll handed Tonĩ the deck. “Shuffle the cards a few times, mention your father’s name and the killer’s as you do, then cut the cards three times to the left. After that, hand them back to me.”

Tonĩ did as instructed.

Idyll dealt the cards face up in front of her in a specific pattern: two overlapping cards in the center, four cards at each compass point surrounding it, and four more on the right side to act as a “staff:” this pattern was considered to be the shape of a Celtic cross.

Even though Faith had never had a Tarot reading for herself, she’d certainly seen her aunt perform it enough times to understand the particulars.

Idyll studied the cards in silence. “My, but your power does come through, Tonĩ. There are three Major Arcana cards in this reading. It’s very rare that I see so many. Here.” She pointed to the card at the western compass point. “This is The Emperor, the commanding father figure, stern and authoritative.” She glanced up. “Raymond Parthen, I would think.”

“Sounds like a fit to me,” Tonĩ agreed dryly.

“He sits in the Past position, which indicates he’s moving out of this situation.” Idyll gave Tonĩ a meaningful look. “This confirms he’s not a part of the killings.”

Some of the tension eased from Tonĩ’s expression. “That’s something, I guess.”

Idyll pointed to the southern compass point. “Here’s Videön: The Knight of Pentacles. He sits in the position which designates the Root Cause of the problem.”

Dev snorted. “Videön as a
knight
.”

“This knight represents blunt, overbearing, and unfeeling qualities, especially since the card was dealt upside down. That position heightens the negativity.”

“Ah,” Dev said. “Makes sense now.”

“Here.” Idyll swept a hand toward the center, her bangles clink-clanking. “These are the cards that represent the Heart of the Matter and its Opposition.”

Dev pointed to the Opposition card. “That one doesn’t seem good.” The card showed a heart being pierced by three swords.

Idyll’s expression sobered. “It’s heartbreak and loneliness. And in the Future position…” She pointed to the card at the eastern compass point. “Is the Tower, chaos and upheaval.”

Tonĩ rubbed a hand over her forehead. “So we have chaos and upheaval in our near future,” she summarized, “and heartbreak and loneliness in opposition to…what?” She pointed to the Heart of the Matter card. “What’s this?”

“The Ten of Cups. Family.” Idyll sat back, her fingertips resting on the edge of the table. “Not your family,” she murmured. “But…” Her eyes swept over the spread several times. “Oh, Lord, I think I know what’s going on. If I’m right, then I would have to agree with Jaċken’s assessment of this being extremely bad.” Idyll indicated the manila file with a forward thrust of her chin. “Do you have the names of the victims in there?”

“Yes,” Tonĩ said.

“May I see them?” Idyll bent over and unzipped her suitcase, digging out a thin paperback from the side pocket. It was a guide to Celtic surnames.

Jaċken extracted a paper from the file and handed it to Idyll.

Idyll flipped pages rapidly in her book as she looked up each victim’s last name. Finally, she closed the book. “It’s as I feared,” she said, her face white. “All five of the victims’ names—O’Connolly, Fleming, Eagan, Dowdall, and Preston—are surnames from families from the County of Meath in Ireland:
ancient, original families
.”

“Original?” Tonĩ repeated. “What does that mean?”

“County Meath is where the Hill of Tara is located, once the seat of power of the medieval High Kings of Ireland. It’s a hallowed place. The first families who came from Meath are believed to be equally hallowed, so much so that they were used as sacred vessels, and their descendants, as well.” She held up the list of victims’ names. “Like these men.”

Jaċken’s brow furrowed. “Vessels for what?”

“For power from the four Treasures of the Tuatha Dé Danann.”

Tonĩ glanced around the table, making a sweep of their group until her eyes landed on Idyll again. “You’ve totally lost us.”

“All right, let’s go back to the beginning,” Idyll’s voice took on the melodic cadence of a storyteller. “In ancient Celtic lore, the mother goddess of the Celts merged with the sacred oak and together they created the Children of Danu, or the Tuatha Dé Danann—these are the ancestors of today’s Fey folk. These special beings migrated to Ireland from the four mythical cities of their origin, but before they left, they were given four magic Treasures, or talismans, one from each of their cities to protect them against the evil Fomorians, who already resided in Ireland.”

“The illustrious number four,” Dev inserted.

“Very good. The number is quite meaningful here.” Idyll took a sip of her Tequila Sunrise. “After the Tuatha Dé Danann conquered the Fomorians, there was A Time Of One; a time when the Tuatha lived in Ireland in peace as a united group. That ended when the Milesians, the ancestors of modern day Gaels, came and conquered, forcing the Tuatha to flee into hiding. It was during this time of great upheaval that the Tenebris Mala decided to make their move into dominance. The only way the Tenebris could overthrow the Milesians, however, was to combine their dark powers with Tuatha enchantments. They needed the four Treasures—the Stone, the Spear, the Sword, and the Cauldron. All Fey power resided in these Treasures, you see. As you can imagine, it would’ve been disastrous if the talismans had ended up in the hands of such evil.

“So to protect these essential enchantments, the king of the Tuatha Dé Danann took half the power from the Treasures and concealed it in the souls of mighty Fey warriors, called Fianna, for safekeeping. Then he dispatched the actual physical Treasures to four hidden corners of the world to be guarded in secret. Modern-day Masters, those with The Knowledge, say the Treasures ended up in charmed places on earth: Romania in the Carpathian Mountains, Tibet, Argentina near the Iguazú Falls, and, funny enough”—Idyll made a wide gesture—“the forest lands of Balboa Park, not far from where we now sit.”

Idyll pulled the straw out of her drink and laid it beside the glass. “The king was clearly taking care to make sure that Fey power wasn’t concentrated in one place, which would’ve left it too susceptible to theft. Some power is contained in the Treasures—which are scattered—and some is kept in the Fianna warrior souls. These souls are passed from generation to generation of the people who came out of the County of Meath: original families, like I said.”

Jaċken’s eyes narrowed. “So when Videön performs an un-protection ritual on a man with an original family last name, he’s accessing the soul of one of these Fianna warriors?”

“Yes, but only if the bearer of the original last name is in fact a sacred vessel. Not all are.”

Dev rasped a hand over his goatee. “How is Videön finding men with original family last names who actually carry these souls, then?”

Idyll shook her head, her face drawn. “I have no idea.”

Jaċken frowned. “And once Videön has access to the Fianna soul, what does he do? Manipulation, abuse, theft…?”

Idyll exhaled unevenly. “This is an intuition, a guess, mind you, but I feel strongly that he’s stealing them. Take these souls, and a person gains immense Fey power.” She waved her hand. “This Videön, however, would need somewhere to store them. As a Tenebris Mala, he couldn’t take these souls into his own body.”

Jaċken paused, then cursed. “I think I know how he’s doing it.” He glanced at Tonĩ. “Nỵko told me that Videön’s men were wearing amulets that gave off evil power. The men were regular humans, but had strength and healing powers that went beyond regular capabilities—and their scent was off.” He turned to Idyll. “Is that a way to store these souls, with enchanted amulets?”

“Yes,” Idyll said quietly. “The wearer would gain the soul’s power.”

“Christ,” Jaċken hissed. “Why the hell is Videön amassing an army of men with Fey power? For his war with Raymond or for something even worse? And how is he able to perform this un-protection ritual to do it? We never determined that, either.”

Idyll fidgeted with one of her necklaces, the longest one with the carved wooden African beads. “It’s worse than you realize. You see, a symbiotic relationship of sorts exists between the Treasures and the vessels. Because they’ve been divided, there can’t be one without the other; the souls depend on the magic of the Treasures for their survival, and the Treasures cannot have complete power without that which is kept within the vessels. By stealing souls, Videön is upsetting the balance of all Fey power. If he takes too many, one of the Treasures will fall, and then all Fey power will cease to exist. That means those of us with Otherworldly gifts—people like you, Tonĩ, and me—will lose whatever makes us special. Videön, too, although he’s obviously too stupid to know it. Their kind”—Idyll gestured at Jaċken and Dev—“will likely die off completely.”

Idyll touched the Tarot card at the northern compass point of the reading. “See here? This is The Empress, the fertile, life-giving mother, our connection to the natural world. I believe she represents the mother goddess of the Tuatha Dé Danann. She sits in the position of an Alternative Future, which I sense means the continuation of the power stemming from her is uncertain.” The thin lines on Idyll’s face became more pronounced. “I’m telling you all, we’re looking at a catastrophe of biblical proportions for those of us of the Otherworld, if Videön is allowed to continue unchecked.”

Faith’s lashes fluttered, then a clammy trickle of ice rolled down her spine. Who would’ve thought that these symbol killings could have such profound meaning hidden behind them. She glanced around at the circle of faces, finding nothing but grave expressions.

“Now it makes sense,” Tonĩ said, “why Raymond isn’t involved with this. He’s smart enough to know this kind of soul stealing wouldn’t gain him power, like Videön thinks, but ultimately destroy it.”

Jaċken’s attention was still aimed at Idyll. “Is there anything in those cards that might tell me how I can stop Videön?”

“
You
can’t,” Idyll said. “If Videön can perform a Celtic un-protection ritual, then only the Tuatha Dé Danann have the power to stop him.”

Tonĩ’s eyebrows popped up. “The Tuatha exist today?”

Idyll nodded. “As long as the Treasures exist, so will the Tuatha. They are the guardians, or
custos
, of the Treasures.”

Jaċken massaged the bridge of his nose. “Hell, if the Tuatha are in charge of protecting Fey power, then why aren’t they stopping Videön?”

“They can’t,” Idyll said. “Not without a conduit from the Middle World to the Shifted World. They’re fairies, you see.”

A tightness flickered across Faith’s forehead.
Did Aunt Idyll just say
…?

Kacie had a perplexed expression.

Tonĩ sighed broadly. “Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any stranger. Okay. Explain about these worlds.”

“There are worlds within worlds,” Idyll said. “The Middle World is our here and now, our reality. The Upper World is in the stars where one goes to meet spirit guides. The Lower World also offers a place for guidance, but is accessed through use of a power animal. As a shamanka, I can travel to both the Upper and Lower Worlds. But fairies live in a Shifted World: a world that exists here and now, in today’s Middle World reality, but is beyond normal perception.” Idyll tucked the Celtic surname book into her purse. “The Tuatha can shapeshift to human form, but cannot use their power in that form. In their fairy shape, they can affect the Middle World somewhat with their dust. But to use the full strength of their power, they need to act through a person in possession of a fifth element enchantment skill. Fifth elements are the conduits.”

“And let me guess,” Jaċken drawled. “You don’t know any fifth elements. Because that would be too easy.”

“No,” Idyll confirmed. “I’m sorry, I don’t.”

Jaċken’s lips formed a hard line. “So here we are, sitting on the verge of an Otherworld apocalypse, and—”

“Oh, God.” Tonĩ breathed the words.

Everyone at the table turned to look at her.

The bartender was turning off the television sets. It was time to go.

“What?” Jaċken prompted his wife.

“I was just remembering the enchantment designator I saw on Pändra. Dr. Jess thought it was the letter V, but…now I realize it’s a Roman numeral five.
We
know a fifth element.” Tonĩ inhaled deeply. “It’s Pändra.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

Ţărână: the next day, December 25th, Christmas

Thomal eased a blue-striped button-down shirt off a hanger in his closet, sending the wire triangle swinging. He vacantly watched it rock lazily on the rod. The hanger was bent in two places, but he couldn’t find any appreciation for its interesting asymmetry. The color of the shirt also didn’t splash against the backs of his retinas like it usually did, inspiring all kinds of creative painting ideas until he pushed those images aside. His view of the world was narrowing in on him every day, and it was beginning to scare the shit out of him.

He was fucked up all to hell, though; no need to ask Carnac the Magnificent to figure out that one. His marriage-that-wasn’t-a-marriage didn’t exactly make him want to cue the laugh track on his life, but it wasn’t the primary thing messing him up. No, he and Pändra had settled into an uneasy routine over the last two and a half weeks. Every Sunday he came to feed on her to get strong for the training week ahead—although he’d needed a bolster three days ago after he was shot at the Park Place condominium complex.