Island of Glass
Page 22
“Of course. While it may have been written in purple, it gives a good firsthand accounting of the rising of the new queen, his time on the island. Some salt may be doused over the purple.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Expressions,” Sawyer told Annika. “I’ll explain later.”
“So you know he claims to have slept with Arianrhod—on all three of the nights he stayed on the island.”
“Well, even gods and sorcerers have needs, and it was quite the party. I don’t . . . Ah, I see. Of course.” Leaning back, lifting his beer, Bran nodded to Doyle. “She wanted a child—a magickal child.”
“Bloodline,” Riley said. “A child she could one day send to Ireland, to continue the bloodline. Descendants of that child settled right here, others migrated. Your family’s in Sligo.”
“They are, most of them,” Bran agreed. “And my grandmother’s grandmother was a Clare woman, a witch from Quilty. Not far from here, as the crow flies. So it fits, very well, wouldn’t you say? Brother?”
Doyle brooded into his beer. “I don’t know of any witches in my family history. And I wasn’t born immortal.”
As, to her, his grief bled through the iron shield he’d erected, Riley might have felt for him. But she had to press. “No talk around the fire of a relation with the sight or the power to heal, to commune with animals?”
He shifted, shot her an annoyed look. “There’s always talk. And it’s Ireland, so . . . ”
“Talk has roots somewhere. Regardless, you’re not going to argue the facts. Sasha drew Arianrhod, and the resemblance to your mother, to Bran’s grandmother is unarguable. We’re connected, the six of us. Sasha connected us, every one, when she was still in the States, drawing and painting visions she didn’t want to have. We all came to Corfu, at the same time. We all came together. You and Bran, you come from the same root, planted the night of the stars on the Island of Glass. And so do we all.”
“We’re all from her?” Annika asked.
“There are three goddesses. I doubt they’d have put all their eggs—pun intended—in one basket. Big celebration, lots of magickal people. Plenty, I imagine, of men who suited their needs. Shapeshifters, travelers, merpeople.
“Arianrhod came to Bran’s ancestor on the night of the stars, the same night Nerezza cursed them,” Riley continued. “The night the goddesses understood the seeds of—let’s say misfortune—had been sown. So they took steps to conceive and create guardians. The six. Us.”
“Six who carry their blood,” Bran stated.
“Plenty diluted,” Sawyer observed, “but you have to call it cool. We’ve got the blood of gods, man.”
“They used us even then?” Doyle demanded as insult—pure and hot—burned through the grief. “Sealed our fates? Determined my brother would die an agonizing death before he was really a man so I would be cursed with immortality?”
“I don’t think so.” To offset the rise of his anger, Riley spoke briskly. “I’m not claiming the gods can’t be cruel, but I also don’t believe they refine the details. You’d have had a run-in, somehow or other, with a force that turned you. Sasha might have embraced her gift all her life, but she’d still have ended up in Corfu. Me, too, even if I’d opted to write and teach rather than going for fieldwork.
“But yeah,” she said after a moment, “they used us. They gave us some of themselves, and that part of the blood may have influenced us all to come together, to stay together, to risk what we’re risking.”
“And don’t you think it’s helped us beat Nerezza?” Sasha met Riley’s eyes. “You think that, and so do I now. I’m so sorry, Doyle, and I wish I’d known or felt before you looked at the sketch. I wish there’d been a way to prepare you.”
“It’s not on you. I read the damn description, and didn’t put it together.” He could wonder now why it hadn’t struck him, but there was no going back. “I don’t like the idea that a trio of gods started my bloodline for their own purposes.”
“You can take that up with them when we find the island.” Riley shrugged. “Odds are they’re still around, being gods. And I think odds are we’re going to find the island from here, that it’s going to be off this coast, just as it was for Bran and Doyle’s mutual ancestor.”
“I can swim out and look.” Annika snuggled next to Sawyer. “Sawyer said he’d take me down tonight so I can swim. I can look, too.”
“You can, but I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”
“And it’s not time,” Sasha added. “No, not a vision, just logic. There’s no reason for the island to reveal itself until we have the last star.”
“Agreed.” Now Riley dropped into a chair, slouched, and stretched. “We probably have some time before Nerezza comes after us, so we shouldn’t waste it.”
“Training starts tomorrow, dawn,” Doyle said.
“Check. And I’ve lined up the boat and equipment. Do you know these waters, Anni?”
“Not very well, but I’ll swim, and look. For caves.”
“You got it.” Riley toasted her. “So Annika’s scouting, I’m on equipment, Bran’s already working on more magickal supplies.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Expressions,” Sawyer told Annika. “I’ll explain later.”
“So you know he claims to have slept with Arianrhod—on all three of the nights he stayed on the island.”
“Well, even gods and sorcerers have needs, and it was quite the party. I don’t . . . Ah, I see. Of course.” Leaning back, lifting his beer, Bran nodded to Doyle. “She wanted a child—a magickal child.”
“Bloodline,” Riley said. “A child she could one day send to Ireland, to continue the bloodline. Descendants of that child settled right here, others migrated. Your family’s in Sligo.”
“They are, most of them,” Bran agreed. “And my grandmother’s grandmother was a Clare woman, a witch from Quilty. Not far from here, as the crow flies. So it fits, very well, wouldn’t you say? Brother?”
Doyle brooded into his beer. “I don’t know of any witches in my family history. And I wasn’t born immortal.”
As, to her, his grief bled through the iron shield he’d erected, Riley might have felt for him. But she had to press. “No talk around the fire of a relation with the sight or the power to heal, to commune with animals?”
He shifted, shot her an annoyed look. “There’s always talk. And it’s Ireland, so . . . ”
“Talk has roots somewhere. Regardless, you’re not going to argue the facts. Sasha drew Arianrhod, and the resemblance to your mother, to Bran’s grandmother is unarguable. We’re connected, the six of us. Sasha connected us, every one, when she was still in the States, drawing and painting visions she didn’t want to have. We all came to Corfu, at the same time. We all came together. You and Bran, you come from the same root, planted the night of the stars on the Island of Glass. And so do we all.”
“We’re all from her?” Annika asked.
“There are three goddesses. I doubt they’d have put all their eggs—pun intended—in one basket. Big celebration, lots of magickal people. Plenty, I imagine, of men who suited their needs. Shapeshifters, travelers, merpeople.
“Arianrhod came to Bran’s ancestor on the night of the stars, the same night Nerezza cursed them,” Riley continued. “The night the goddesses understood the seeds of—let’s say misfortune—had been sown. So they took steps to conceive and create guardians. The six. Us.”
“Six who carry their blood,” Bran stated.
“Plenty diluted,” Sawyer observed, “but you have to call it cool. We’ve got the blood of gods, man.”
“They used us even then?” Doyle demanded as insult—pure and hot—burned through the grief. “Sealed our fates? Determined my brother would die an agonizing death before he was really a man so I would be cursed with immortality?”
“I don’t think so.” To offset the rise of his anger, Riley spoke briskly. “I’m not claiming the gods can’t be cruel, but I also don’t believe they refine the details. You’d have had a run-in, somehow or other, with a force that turned you. Sasha might have embraced her gift all her life, but she’d still have ended up in Corfu. Me, too, even if I’d opted to write and teach rather than going for fieldwork.
“But yeah,” she said after a moment, “they used us. They gave us some of themselves, and that part of the blood may have influenced us all to come together, to stay together, to risk what we’re risking.”
“And don’t you think it’s helped us beat Nerezza?” Sasha met Riley’s eyes. “You think that, and so do I now. I’m so sorry, Doyle, and I wish I’d known or felt before you looked at the sketch. I wish there’d been a way to prepare you.”
“It’s not on you. I read the damn description, and didn’t put it together.” He could wonder now why it hadn’t struck him, but there was no going back. “I don’t like the idea that a trio of gods started my bloodline for their own purposes.”
“You can take that up with them when we find the island.” Riley shrugged. “Odds are they’re still around, being gods. And I think odds are we’re going to find the island from here, that it’s going to be off this coast, just as it was for Bran and Doyle’s mutual ancestor.”
“I can swim out and look.” Annika snuggled next to Sawyer. “Sawyer said he’d take me down tonight so I can swim. I can look, too.”
“You can, but I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”
“And it’s not time,” Sasha added. “No, not a vision, just logic. There’s no reason for the island to reveal itself until we have the last star.”
“Agreed.” Now Riley dropped into a chair, slouched, and stretched. “We probably have some time before Nerezza comes after us, so we shouldn’t waste it.”
“Training starts tomorrow, dawn,” Doyle said.
“Check. And I’ve lined up the boat and equipment. Do you know these waters, Anni?”
“Not very well, but I’ll swim, and look. For caves.”
“You got it.” Riley toasted her. “So Annika’s scouting, I’m on equipment, Bran’s already working on more magickal supplies.”
