When his fist met air rather than flesh, Tanc felt both surprised and proud; Eallair remained fast on his feet, even without full use of his eyes. Although his sense of balance sometimes faltered due to his impairment, he always righted himself, using the auras of those around him or the sounds of their feet on the mats to orientate himself and recover. If he hadn’t been looking for it, Tanc might have missed those slight moments of hesitation altogether.
His newest ghaisgeach managed to evade his attacks again and again, and had even landed several blows of his own. Eallair hadn’t held back any, which Tanc had feared he might because of the mating bond. Instead, he fought like he had something to prove; like he had more to prove now than he’d done in Tallamarbh, which perhaps he did. In his own eyes as much as anyone else’s.
The first night had been hard, following the doctor’s order to rest had given Eallair too much time to dwell, for his mood to sink, and Tanc had hated watching him drown. On the second night, he demanded that his mate do as all new warriors did; submit himself to rigorous testing to get a baseline of his strength, speed, stamina, and skill. He’d be tested again in a week, once he developed his full strength, but even his first assessment proved promising.
For any other ghaisgeach, it would’ve been very promising indeed, but they still didn’t know what it meant for him, not when he couldn’t be sent out on missions the way others were. They needed to figure that out but they could only take things one step at a time. Testing him was the first step. So Tanc watched him move, watched him fight, trying not to get distract by everything else he wanted to watch him do as well.
Gods, he was gorgeous. Tanc’s gaze slid over his mate’s face, from messy spikes of auburn hair, to beautiful purple eyes, to the strong, stubble-free jaw that he’d helped shave. He smiled at that memory. Eallair wanted to do everything for himself but some things proved far easier to get right with sight. Shaving was one of those things. He’d asked for help, and Tanc hadn’t even considered refusing. It had felt intimate, in a way, to have his gorgeous mate trust him enough to let him take a blade to his jaw. He enjoyed having Eallair trust him enough to share his vulnerability, almost as much he enjoyed seeing his strength as muscle bunched under his black t-shirt a fraction of a second before he lashed out, aiming for Tanc’s head.
Leaping back, he only just evaded taking the blow and didn’t dare pause, moving again, knowing Eallair would adjust his stance just as quickly. In truth, his mate had him beat in terms of speed. Although Tanc’s strength still overpowered his newest warrior’s, he certainly wasn’t as fast. Based on how long they’d been at it, Eallair had comparable stamina too. Another ‘class one’. They’d gotten their second ‘class one’ ghaisgeach in less than six months, which was so much more than he could’ve hoped for after such a protracted period of losing candidates to the trials.
On top of the losses, those few candidates lucky enough to make it past the Taghadairean had almost all had tested low. Tanc had tried not to show it of course; his disappointment every time a new ghaisgeach lacked in strength, speed, stamina, or skill. They could always improve, just as Deòthas had done over the years, but he’d needed to accept the possibility that the bhampair species just didn’t produce the same standard of warrior they’d done in the past.
Then Tor had walked through the door and changed that, and Eallair followed with different and yet comparable skillset. Tor was more immovable object or wrecking ball than striking viper, whereas Eallair belonged in that latter camp. They were both amongst the best the Comhairle had been handed in years, which only emphasised that he needed to find a way to make it work for Eallair. The Comhairle needed him.
Eallair lunged toward him again and he raised his hand in a block, only for his mate to twist around him, not following through on his feint and kicking out instead, taking his leg out from under him and stealing his balance. Eallair used that moment of instability to knock him off his feet, grabbing his arm and twisting it into a practised pin; making him tap out. He might have growled at anyone else, but when Eallair released him, he grinned instead.
“You fight well. You can tell your brother to stop taunting you now because you’re a class one as well.”
Tor had bordered on unbearable at breakfast, yet Tanc felt grateful for it. He’d challenged Eallair enough to bypass self-doubt and self-consciousness, to ensure he threw himself into proving himself. He suspected the pair of them had always been that way; knowing when to support and when to challenge. If Tor hadn’t been best suited to working with Deòthas, he might have considered putting him and Eallair together, but even the deepest friendship couldn’t compete with the affinity that came from the mate bond. Tor and Deòthas fought together in a way few could understand. In a way he hadn’t understood either, not until Haze, when he’d felt so completely in sync with the trainee. He probably should’ve realised the truth then.
“If only I could be useful that might mean something,” Eallair sighed.
“We’ll figure it out. You said at breakfast that the auras in the great hall almost gave an impression of the tables and chairs,” he reminded him. “It might be enough.”
His mate gave a derisive snort. “Yeah, if I take the whole castle with me everywhere I go, I might manage to use the rest of the Comhairle as a torch.”
Eallair flinched at his own harsh sarcasm, though, and added, “It’s true that the auras cast reflections on other surfaces and that gives me a few hazy edges, but only if people are close to furniture or walls. It’s not enough to be useful. It only gave me enough to see by at breakfast because there were so many people there, and ghaisgich glow brighter than others. It’s not going to help me if I ever find myself alone in an alley surrounded by marionettes. Puppets aren’t alive; I’ve never seen an aura around one of them.”
Pulling his mate close, Tanc pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “You said the reflections are clearer today than they were yesterday. Perhaps they’ll be clearer again tomorrow. Your body is going to keep getting stronger for the rest of the week, maybe your eyes will too. No, it won’t be like they were before or it wouldn’t be a sacrifice, but it might be a different way of seeing.”
Even he knew he clutched at straws but it was all he had. He wanted to hope. Funny, that... He’d lost all hope for himself years ago, but for Eallair, he wanted optimism. He wanted to feel sure that his mate would be alright.
Eallair’s expression softened a little and he leaned in, pressing another tender kiss to his lips. “If we can ensure you feel that determined over your own life as well as mine, we might be getting somewhere.”
Hiding a flinch seemed pointless considering his mate likely saw it in his aura anyway.
“I think that’s how this is supposed to work. I’m supposed to want the world for you even if I can’t want it for myself... But I want more than I did week ago. You’ve given me something to want.”
His mate kissed him again and it felt perfectly natural to press close together; to crave contact. For centuries, he’d avoided any such interaction; hating even accidental touches. Yet with Eallair, he craved every caress, every brush of fingertips against skin, or the scrape of fangs over flesh. He had a captain’s meeting to get to, though.
“You’re spending some time with Tor, right? While I’m trying to figure out our next move with Ambustus?”
Nodding, his mate agreed, “Yes. He’s taking over your ‘keep Eallair from falling down a flight of stairs’ duties. I’m meeting him in the entrance hall and we’re going to... I don’t know... It's not like we can watch TV or play cards. Play a hundred rounds of rock paper scissors maybe, at least I can see his aura for that.”
“Whatever you do, Tor’s your brother and he just wants to spend time with you. Then I’ll see you once I’m done. You should probably phone your mother too. Tell her about the trials... and about your eyes,” he advised, knowing the longer Eallair left it, the harder it would become.
“I’ll tell her...” his mate insisted as they left the gymnasium and headed back upstairs, with Eallair following his lead to navigate doors and obstacles. “Just... I hadn’t even told her I had a trial date, never mind this. I think it would be better telling her in person, so she can see that I’m... alright... but that means telling her about us too. Which I want to do... It’s just... I’ve never really brought a boyfriend home and now I have a mate, and not just any mate, but the chief of the Comhairle. That’s huge. You’re like, centuries upon centuries older than my mam.”
A sudden sense of self-consciousness had Tanc’s brow pinching into a frown. “That makes me feel like a cradle snatcher. Not all vampires agree with relationships that cross so many generational lines.”
“Which is ridiculous,” Eallair retorted. “We’re both adults which is the only consideration that matters. It’s not that my mam will have a problem with your age, it’s just that everything you are is... monumental... you should be out of my reach. Either way, it’s more about me wrapping my head around it than my mam doing so. A week ago, I lied to her and told her there wasn’t anyone in the Council I liked. I’m not sure she believed me. Tor certainly didn’t. But so much has changed in a week... Where do I even begin?”
Tanc shook his head, having no answer to that. “I don’t know. I barely remember my parents. Now it seems like the slaves I called ‘mother’ and ‘father’ weren’t actually related to me. They were just part of a game Ambustus played with my mind. I don’t know where you begin with your mam, but I suggest ‘Hi, mam. I have some news,’ might be a good place to start. She’s been a rock for both you and Tor. She raised two amazing men. Trust that she’s always on your side and just be honest. If you want me to be there, I will be, and if you want to talk to her on your own first, then that’s alright too. I won’t be offended and Tor can take you to visit her.”
Eallair hand slid into Tanc’s, fingers meshing with fingers. “I want you to be there.”
“Then I’ll be there,” he promised.
When they reached the entrance hall, he left Eallair with Tor, then headed upstairs to his office. His captains had already taken their seats, a realisation which left him feeling self-conscious even though he strode to his seat with his usual, confident, stalking gait. He couldn’t remember ever not arriving first. He didn’t like tardiness.
“So how did he do then?” Corvinus asked as he pulled out his chair and took his place at the head of the boardroom table. “You were testing him, right?”
“Class one. Another class one if not for his eyes. He’s not as strong as me or Tor, but he’s faster. I reckon by the end of the week he might even give Deòthas a run for her money on that front. Excellent stamina too.”
“We know. We’ve all heard him making good use of his stamina in your room,” Corvinus teased and Tanc felt an unusual heat burn his cheeks.
“Moving on from that can of worms,” Aodh interrupted, shaking his head at Corvinus, “What use is a class one warrior who can’t see? It’s not like we can send him out on missions, and yet...”
“And yet?” Tanc asked when Aodh hesitated.
When his second-in-command turned towards him, something about Aodh’s expression unsettled him. What had the Comhairle’s resident seer seen? He’d mentioned white light and the sounds of a slaughter, and that Eallair would need to play his part, but had he seen more since?
“What? What do you see, Aodh?”
“I can’t see,” the seer admitted, red brows tugging down into a frown, a deep crease between them. “The light is too bright and I can’t see. So bright I can feel the heat of it but not like the burn of sunlight. I can hear screaming too but still no sound of weapons. I don’t even know if the screaming is real; it sounds... crackly. Not quite right. Although something is moving in the whiteness, shuffling beyond my sight... There’s pain too. So much pain. I thought Eallair was meant to intervene, but if he can’t see... Unless... Maybe that’s why I can’t see in the vision. It’s never been like that before. I don’t understand it.”
“Eallair says the world is dark, not bright white,” Tanc noted, as bemused as his second-in-command. Though if that was the reason behind Aodh’s vision, then he’d need keep Eallair safe. The idea of his mate being in pain had his hands fisting with the need to fight.
“We don’t know enough about what you’ve seen to do anything about it directly. We need to concentrate on finding Tenebris’s ‘Sycophant’, whether he’s Ambustus, Raghnall, or someone else entirely.” He sighed, weariness settling over him again. “That, at least, Eallair can help with. I need him to help me... have an informal chat... with every ghaisgeach and trainee in this place. Someone reported my movements back to the puppeteer. They must’ve done or he never would’ve found me at Haze. We need to figure out who here wants me gone.”
“You really think someone here betrayed you? None of us would do that,” Seren announced, shaking her head.
An unladylike guffaw burst from Deòthas seconds before her own hand covered her mouth and she stammered, “Sorry. Old habits die hard. While most wouldn’t do that, I’ve seen enough ghaisgich mutiny over the centuries that I think such confidence is foolish. People are just that; people. Flawed, selfish, biased; that’s as true of ghaisgich as any human, bhampair, incubus, shadow, or nightmare. Only we’re far more dangerous than the average of any species.”
“Just because some turned on you that doesn’t mean they’d hand our chief over to this newest puppet-master,” Seren refuted, scowling.
Tanc sighed. Seren and Deòthas had never been friends, but their relationship had grown more strained after Seren’s husband died. Einion’s death wasn’t Deòthas’s fault but both women assigned that blame anyway.
“Those who turned on me disobeyed Tancred’s orders on more than one occasion, sometimes in the worst ways. They didn’t respect him enough to obey,” Deòthas reminded them all, saying nothing less than the truth. “Raghnall betrayed the whole Comhairle when he interfered with our training programme and condemned many candidates to death in Tallamarbh. He must’ve passed the information about the unlocked shutter back to this ‘Sycophant’ too, or the marionettes wouldn’t have gotten into the compound. There are traitors in our midst; people who lost faith because we aren’t as strong as we were, people who see the nobles’ propaganda and believe it, people who don’t like me, or people who are just plain old tired of fighting. Pretending we’re infallible – pretending we’re more than the flawed people we are – won’t change that. It’ll only condemn us faster.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, Deòthas has a point,” Caitrìona added, heaving a shrug. “In that respect, I also agree with Tanc. We have an asset in Eallair. He can see into the souls of our people and he might be able to locate those who have something to hide. At the very least, the fear of what he can see might flush out the traitor. Even if they run rather than face being discovered, that’ll both unmask them and remove them from within our circle.”
“I agree,” Aodh added, though he rarely disagreed with his sister. “I’ve been trying to force visions ever since we found out about Raghnall, to see if the treachery went further, but you know I find it hard to do that. I see what the gods want me too. Clues. I can’t demand answers. In that respect, Eallair might prove more capable than me.”
“More capable? No. Just different. It might help us, though,” Tanc allowed. “We need to be prepared either way, in case traitors have revealed our location beyond the Longhirst facility. Deòthas, did you ward the grounds as Tenebris suggested?”
“I did. I did it yesterday while you were slacking off with your mate,” Deòthas said, her lips twitching in a way that implied she teased him, something she wouldn’t have done six months ago. “I followed her instructions to the letter then added a bit of fae flare as well. Nothing will get into the compound. I even tied the ward back to the Comhairle as a whole rather than to myself. We all power it. If anything untoward ever happens to me, the wards will still protect you.”
“Thank you. But I don’t expect you to let anything untoward happen to you, for Tor’s sake, and for the rest of us. I appreciate the consideration, though,” Tanc warned.
Deòthas nodded but her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug, thoughts of Cailean likely running through her head. “I know. I’m not planning on letting anything happen either, but doing what we do, sometimes we get hurt. That’s just how it is.”
She wasn’t wrong. Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones their enemies could hurt either, a truth that seemed ever more apparent when Nate burst into the room, slamming the door against the wall and making them all jump.
“Sorry for the interruption, chief, but we’ve just received an emergency call from a nightmare family living just outside Alnwick. They run an equestrian school. Marionettes have broken into the stables and the family are worried about their horses and about the puppets getting into the house. They have young children.”
“It seems the new puppet master is determined to make his presence felt. Did they say how many marionettes?” Tanc asked.
“At least ten but they said there might be more.”
Ten would be easy enough for one team to manage but he’d learned not to trust the approximate numbers given by frightened victims. What happened at Tor’s family home showed just how easy it was for the attacked to underestimate their assailants. When Cailean sent marionettes to abduct nobles, those who’d hidden in the safe room hadn’t phoned in anything near an accurate tally.
I can’t take the risk when kids are involved. It has to be two teams, just to make sure...
“Edward and Seren, get your combat teams armed up and get the address from Nate. Scout first before engaging, make sure you can handle it. If you need back up, call it in. I don’t expect anyone to take any unnecessary risks,” he ordered.
The two captains nodded and jumped to their feet, swooping into action without hesitation.
“Why a random stable?” Caitrìona wondered after Nate, Seren, and Edward left. “Masquerade, I understand. It was the anniversary. It makes a statement. They killed a lot of people of many species. Haze makes sense too if the aim was to get to you. But why a random equestrian centre?”
“The Manipulator killed at random. That was how he undermined us; by making it clear to the public that everyone was at risk and we couldn’t protect them. Perhaps the new puppeteer plans on continuing where he left off,” Corvinus mused unhappily. “This is the fourth attack in a week. After six months of peace. This isn’t going to do us any favours.”
“Bhampair media outlets are already reporting on Masquerade with bias; pointing out that we only got there in time to provide clean-up, that too many died, that humans witnessed it, and that it isn’t the first time,” Aodh emphasised, his concern visible in his expression. “They’re reporting that our chief was injured. They’re reporting on the training centre attack as though it proves we can’t even secure our own grounds, never mind protect the public. The nobles control what is said and there’s very little we can do about it.”
“They mix lies in with what truth they report, twisting everything,” Caitrìona added, her brows pulled low over her eyes. “Is there any way we can issue cease and desist letters? Some of what they claim must amount to slander or libel.”
“That’s notoriously hard to prove, especially when the people who’d form the prosecution are also the people we want to prosecute,” Aodh pointed out, shaking his head. “Look at Tor’s family; his brother is a solicitor and his sister is a barrister. The people we’d need to hire to enforce any cease and desist are the very people we want to cease and desist, and they don’t like us. They don’t like Tor. That was clear at the Dubh mansion.”
“Not every one who came out of that safe room cast scorn on him,” Corvinus murmured, considering the attack on Tor’s family home. “While his family are arseholes – every last one of them moulded by Artair of Dubh – Tor might still know someone who’s sympathetic to our cause. If not a noble then someone amongst the circles he’s moved in. It can’t hurt to ask.”
Deòthas scowled at her father. “You underestimate the scars parents can leave.”
Corvinus flinched at that but his daughter shook her head, adding, “I don’t mean you. For the first sixteen years of my life, the only parent I knew was a monster who saw me as her shame. That’s what she called me; ‘mo mhasladh’. She never used my name for the same reason Tor’s never called him ‘Torquil’ and only ever used a diminutive. Parents can be cruel.
“I’m not saying it was always so direct either. Yes, on some days, Drùis wanted to destroy me. On others, she ignored me completely. Tor’s parents treated him only marginally better than she treated me. He remembers the cycle of fists and neglect just as clearly as I do, so I’m warning you that saying ‘it can’t hurt to ask’ is naive. Look, if the veil hadn’t been sealed and someone asked me to speak to the boabhan sìth court, it would hurt me. This is the same thing.”
“I agree. It can and will hurt to ask,” Tanc conceded. “His father disowned him because he joined us; disinherited him. Tor recognises Eallair’s mam as the only parental figure in his life. Asking him to build a bridge with any of the people he knows because he was born a Dubh will open wounds that I’m not sure we have a right to open. I have no doubt that he’d reach out if we asked him to, I just don’t think it’s fair to ask.”
“Fair doesn’t matter much. What the nobles say about the Comhairle isn’t fair either. Plus, the more at odds with bhampair kind we get, the more that’s going to affect Tor too,” Corvinus retorted, his silver eyes almost defiant. “While I appreciate your concerns, asking might be less uncomfortable than walking around with warrior tattoos on his face after the Council falls apart.”
“We’ll endure,” Tanc replied, needing to put faith in that. “No one else is fighting against our enemies. We need to endure. Sooner or later, people else will realise we are all they have.”
“You don’t believe that. You haven’t in years,” his oldest friend denied, scrutinising him. “They won’t realise until it’s too...”
Corvinus’s next argument faded away as the door of the office burst open for a second time and Verity charged towards them. The young ghaisgeach was one of the few to qualify in the last decade and she worked as part of Nate’s communications and technology team. Nothing good came from having members of the communications team burst in twice in one night.
“Chief, there are marionettes outside our eastern wall. They aren’t doing anything yet, just standing there, twenty of them in a fucking line, all staring up at the wall.”
He felt himself wilt at that, even though they’d known the location of their compound might not be secure. Not anymore. Still, he didn’t even manage to give an order before Nate skidded to a stop behind Verity.
What now?
“There are marionettes attacking the Anam Tròcaireach Hospital. They staff have initiated lockdown procedure but they need assistance. They’re the only supernatural hospital in the county and they have children there. Bhampair children. Sick children who haven’t yet come into their strength and are vulnerable. There are at least twenty marionettes trying to access the hospital’s entrances but Doctor Dunbar suspects that's a conservative estimate.”
Shit. Doesn’t Eallair’s mam work at the hospital?
Sighing, Tanc pinched the bridge of his nose. What was the Sycophant playing at? Was he trying to get as many of their forces away from the castle as possible? Perhaps the puppeteer hadn’t yet discovered the wards and hoped to attack their headquarters. Either way, the Comhairle needed to trust Deòthas’s skill with magic, especially as they couldn’t ignore a call for help from the only supernatural hospital in miles.
Gods, I hope Lùisaidh doesn’t have a shift tonight.
He tried to stem the flood of anxiety that thought provoked, focussing on what he could control rather than on what he couldn’t, and asking, “Have Edward and Seren left?”
Nate nodded. “Their teams were on call tonight so they were already armed up and ready to go.”
“Alright, then. Leave them to help at the equestrian centre. Aodh, Corvinus, I need you to head over to the hospital with your teams. It’s essential the puppets don’t get through those doors. The most vulnerable people of too many species make use of that service and we can’t afford to lose it.”
It wasn’t a perfect plan. It left the castle under defended. Yet what choice did they have?
“As far as primary teams go, that only leaves Caitrìona’s here, alongside Deòthas and Tor, and you and Eallair,” Aodh mumbled, not happy with the prospect of reducing the castle’s defences. “Yes, we have our specialists too, but we avoid sending them into the fray because their skillsets are difficult to replace. It isn’t enough.
“Doesn’t matter. We’ll have to hope Deòthas’s spells keep the marionettes out,” Tanc retorted with a helpless shrug. “We can’t put ourselves before the people we need to protect; that leaves us open to further anti-Comhairle propaganda. We all know that.
“Caitrìona, get your team out on the parapets. Magic should prevent the puppets breaching the wall but I want you keeping an eye out just in case. The rest of you, you have your orders.”
Unhappy but out of options, the others left to carry out their duties, leaving him alone with Deòthas. The half-fey bana-ghaisgeach gnawed her lip as she watched him, weighing up whether or not to raise her concerns. In the end, she did so. She’d never been shy about questioning an order.
“What if he’s trying to draw the others away? Not away from the castle but away from you? We don’t know what the goal is here or where it’ll end. Even if he’s only awoken a fraction of the number of bodies Cailean had on ice, he could still keep attacking target after target, especially if some traitor has shared the location of bhampair services, or neamh forbid, private residences. Whatever this is, it has a purpose, and not just lowering the morale of the bhampair species.”
“That’s a matter we’ll have to deal with when and if it arises,” he reminded her, out of options and frustrated by it. “We can’t sit by while innocent people are murdered.”
“I know,” she allowed. “But it would be negligent of me not to raise the matter.”