“Hmph.” Gwydion grabbed his staff. “We were trying to figure out what to do next. Seems that decision has been made for us.”
Aislinn glanced at her skirt and sweater. “I need to change.” Spinning, she dashed for the bedroom, Rune right behind her. As she rifled through drawers, she was grateful Marta had been a bit of a clotheshorse. Snugging into dark green work pants with lots of pockets, she rolled the bottoms. Clean socks came right before she shoved her feet back into her boots. She eyed them for a moment. They really were in bad shape. She needed to find another pair—and soon.
She pulled a black long john top over her head and followed it with a thick green jacket made of something fuzzy and synthetic. It was cold here, and it would be cold where they were going. She rummaged through her rucksack, checking to make sure it still had everything she might need for contingencies. Her hand closed on her water bottle. It was empty, so she filled it at the bathroom sink.
By the time she returned to the kitchen, Fionn was back in battle leathers, hauberk, and vambraces. She wondered where he kept them when they weren’t on his back. Sometime, I’ll just have to ask him. Pulling cupboards and drawers open, she grabbed handfuls of nuts, dried fruit, and dried meat and stuffed them into a large pocket of her rucksack. Being half-starved hadn’t worked well for her in Arizona. She was damned if she’d make the same mistake twice.
“Are we going back near where I used to live?” she asked Travis.
“Yes. I sent the men an image of where we need to come out while we were waiting for you. Guess I’m going with him.” He pointed at Gwydion. “They didn’t think I’d be fast enough on my own.”
“How many jumps?” she asked Fionn.
“Maybe only one.” He smiled reassuringly at her, but worry flashed behind his eyes.
None of them had foreseen the Old Ones engaging in a direct frontal attack. It hadn’t been part of any equation they’d drawn. They’d viewed the Lemurians as relatively passive, without teeth, reliant on the dark gods to mastermind their destructiveness. Aislinn sucked in a breath. If they’d misjudged the Lemurians so badly, what other mistakes had they made?
An unpleasant truth intruded. She bit her lower lip and looked at Fionn. “Do you think the dark gods are behind this?”
“And who else?” Arawn growled. “News travels fast. They would have heard what happened to Slototh by now.”
“Aye, lass,” Bran muttered. “They’re out for revenge. The Lemurians owe them, and they’re calling in their chips.”
“Okay.” She clucked to Rune, slipped her pack straps over her shoulders, and buckled the waist belt. “I’m all set.”
Bella back on his shoulder, Fionn stepped to her side, sandwiching the wolf between them. Magic filled the air until it was hard to breathe. Linked to Travis and his civet, Gwydion was the first to leave. Arawn and Bran shimmered and disappeared.
“Ready?” Fionn asked.
She felt the thrum of the spell he held in check, waiting until everyone else was safely away.
“More than ready.” Aislinn tensed her jaws. “I hate the Lemurians. They killed my parents. If we have to blow through an entire army of them to get to the dark gods, it’s fine by me.”
The jump seemed to take longer than she expected. After a while, she couldn’t feel Fionn or Rune. It worried her. When darkness finally fell away, Aislinn saw the rubble of what was left of a city, except nothing looked familiar. She turned in a full circle before realization slammed her like a kick in the guts. Fionn and Rune weren’t with her. “What the hell?” she sputtered, calling for them.
A triumphant whoop turned her blood to ice. Travis stepped out of a gateway in the air, civet in his arms. “Damn! Didn’t think I’d be able to slip away from that Celt. Still not quite certain how I managed it.” He loped over and grabbed her arm.
Aislinn tried to pull away, but his fingers gripped like pincers.
“What did you do?” she cried, still trying to wrap her mind around Travis’s plea for help being nothing but a sham. “Where are Fionn and Rune?” She reached for her magic, intent on escape, but couldn’t latch onto it. The threads wouldn’t respond to her call. Fear clutched at her belly.
Travis’s lips curled into a snarl. “You’re human. You belong with us.”
“Yes.” Regnol, Travis’s Lemurian magelord, slithered out of the gateway Travis hadn’t closed off. “There’s the little matter of Metae’s death—and my other comrades your wolf slaughtered. You are coming with me.”