Salty Dog Page 4

  A single flame arose almost immediately, and I realized we were in a living room of sorts, a room dominated by a single table surrounded by a few wooden chairs, none of which looked alike. The old fogey set the candle he’d been holding down and took one of the chairs for himself, moving ever more slowly, as if in a great deal of pain. “Low tide,” he explained, catching my baffled expression.

  “What?”

  He smiled, flashing surprisingly white, healthy teeth. “Nevermind that. Let’s get on to business, shall we?” With that, the bastard dismissed me entirely, staring into a dark corner of the room as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

  I felt the migraine growing. “What the hell are ye on about?” I asked, exasperated. “What business could we possibly have?”

  “Oh, this isn’t between us,” he replied.

  “Then what—”

  “Name your price, Manannan mac Lir,” a voice interrupted, emerging from the corner of the room as a murky figure rose from the shadows. She spoke entirely without accent, utterly uninflected, and yet chills rose up my spine as I recognized my mother’s face materializing from that dark recess, flames dancing behind her eyelids. And yet, there was something different about her since we’d last interacted; she appeared translucent, ephemeral, if not insubstantial.

  The old man grunted and leaned forward onto the table. “Ye know what I want, Morrigan,” he replied, voice thick with emotion. The man’s—no, the god’s—body suddenly sung with tension, despite looking frailer than I’d ever seen it. And yet, I suspected he wasn’t frail at all, because—according to my mother’s ghost—this was Manannan mac Lir, perhaps the strongest among all of the Tuatha de Danann, if you believed the hype. A necromancer and magician, prophet and gatekeeper, Manannan had once been worshipped as god of the seas among a people for whom the sea held the key to all life.

  “It is not yet his time,” my mother’s ghost replied. “Nor ours.”

  Manannan’s fist banged against the table and a blast of distant thunder shook the heavens outside. “And yet ye brought this one here?” he hissed, waving a hand at me dismissively.

  My mother shook her head. “It was not my power which called her here.”

  “Then whose?”

  My mother was silent.

  “That’s not possible,” Manannan spat scornfully, leaning back into his chair.

  “We will all have our parts to play in what comes,” my mother replied. “It has been many years since I knew my former husband’s mind.”

  “And what will your part be this time around? Warmonger? Scavenger? Murderer?” Manannan glared across the table, but my mother’s ghost seemed unfazed by the sea god’s accusatory tone. Instead, she held out her hand, palm up, and floated forward until she stood a mere foot away.

  “Read my future, Manannan mac Lir.”

  The god’s mouth fell open, too surprised to remain entirely angry. He hesitated, then reached out, sliding his hand along her own, his knobby fingers sliding through her flesh as if he were running them through fog. The two gods fell still, neither speaking, the only sound the beat of the waves against the island, so distant it registered as little more than a hum. I considered interrupting, if only to demand someone tell me what was happening, but before I could, Manannan jerked to life, snatching his hand back as if he’d been burned. He cradled it, and I realized his blood-soaked bandages were stained further with tears. “You’d do this for her? But why?”

  My mother’s ghost smiled as she made her way back towards the shadows, gaining solidity the further she went from the light. “I do it for us all, Manannan.”

  The sea god grunted, then cleared his throat. “Passage granted.”

  “She will need a guide,” my mother’s ghost added.

  “Excuse me?” I said, raising a hand. “Would either of ye be so kind and tell me what the fuck is goin’ on?”

  “D’ye want me to explain?” Manannan asked.

  “No, I’ll tell her,” my mother’s ghost replied, turning those haunting, fiery eyes towards me. “Not long ago, you were abducted against your will. I do not know by whom, or for what purpose. All I know is that another force interceded on your behalf and brought you here.”

  “What force?”

  My mother’s ghost shook her head. “If he wishes you to know of him, he will show himself to you. Until then, know that while you are a guest here among us, you are also a stranger. In this realm, some will be kind to you, others will not. Some may try to obstruct you, though their motives are often as mysterious as their means. In essence, you must use your best judgment if you are to succeed.”

  “Alright, hold on,” I said, rubbing at the bridge of my nose. “What d’ye mean ‘succeed’? Succeed at what?”

  “You are here to find me, Quinn.”

  I shook my head. “Listen, I do want to see ye, ye know I do. And I appreciate whoever or whatever stepped in to help. But seriously, can’t ye just send me home like ye did last time?” I glanced over at Manannan, who was already shaking his head.

  “Last time ye were a trespasser,” he explained. “This time ye were invited, and by a power beyond mine, no less. Besides,” he studied my mother’s ghost for a moment, “I’m with her on this one.”

  “With her on what?” I asked, exasperated.

  “It’s time,” my mother’s ghost replied.

  “For what?”

  “For me to fade away.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. “Wait, you’re dyin’? And ye tell me this now? Here?”

  “We can talk more once you arrive,” she said, ignoring my question entirely.

  “Let me get this straight. You’re about to die, and ye want me to what, pay me last respects? But to do that, I have to cross the Otherworld?” I started laughing, suddenly struck by the sheer absurdity of the situation. I laughed until my stomach hurt and I felt vaguely nauseous, tears pricking the corner of my eyes. “But…I just wanted to go home,” I whispered.

  “I can return you home from where I am,” my mother’s ghost replied, pitilessly. She turned her attention back to the sea god. “You will have to send her with someone you trust.”

  Manannan leaned back in his chair, staring first at her, then at me. He studied me for a long moment, then grunted. “Ordinarily, I’d send her with Enbarr. He’s the fastest option, not to mention the tamest.”

  In that moment, a brief vision of Manannan’s horse flashed before my eyes—a cerulean thoroughbred with a mane formed from frothing waves, the creature as large and majestic as the ocean itself. I sat up a little, still reeling from the idea that my mother’s ghost might be fading, but also thinking it might not be so bad having to go on an extended field trip to find my mother’s realm if it meant I got to ride Manannan’s legendary steed in the process.

  “But…she strikes me as a pain in the ass who’ll need a lot of hand-holdin’,” Manannan added. “So I’ll send her with Cathal.”

  “Ca-what?” I spluttered.

  “Ah, the hound. Excellent choice,” my mother’s ghost interjected, ignoring my outburst.

  “You’re sendin’ me into the Otherworld with a freakin’ dog?” I demanded, rising to my feet.

  Manannan grunted, sounding amused, a light grin playing at his lips. “You’ll get along great, I’m sure. You’re perfect for each other.” Before I could say anything to that one way or the other, however, my mother’s ghost dissolved, disappearing among the shadows from whence it came.

  “Hurry, Quinn,” she whispered, eyes dimming as the darkness swallowed her face whole. “We’re running out of time.”

  7

  I had about a million questions, but Manannan didn’t give me time to ask even one before we abandoned the blocky domicile for the sunlit outdoors. If anything, he seemed exceptionally eager to kick me off his island. Unfortunately, I was still reeling from the notion that my mother’s ghost—the last tangible connection I had left to family of any sort—was fading, which meant I wasn’t ex
actly thinking straight enough to ask the important questions.

  “Ye never did explain this place,” I said, waving at the ruins as we passed in an attempt to fill the silence. “Not the Gate bit, but why it looks like this.”

  The sea god nodded absentmindedly as he shuffled towards the docks, his steps more certain the further we went, his feebleness dissipating even as I watched. “This is where civilization comes to die,” he explained, as if that cleared everything up. “As time wears down the structures created by both mankind and Fae,” he went on, perhaps noting my irritation, “they come here, little by little. Ye might even recognize some.” He gestured towards a distant structure poking out from between two statues, its apex practically unmistakable even from far away.

  “Wait, is that the Great Pyramid?” I asked, gaping.

  “The bones of it, that’s all,” Manannan replied. “Eventually, the whole pyramid may reside here, swept beneath the sand in your realm, a testament to civilization.”

  “But why here?” I asked, baffled, marveling at the many statues and towers that stood fully formed, awed by the pathos of this vast, cluttered landscape.

  Manannan grunted. “I collect ‘em.”

  “Ye what?”

  “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept,” Manannan replied, chagrined. “In your world, humans collect stamps and rocks and what have ye. I simply t’ink bigger than they do.” Manannan shrugged, glancing at me with a placid expression. “Even gods need a hobby. Somethin’ ye should remember, little one.”

  I bristled a little at the title but held my tongue. For all I knew, the term of endearment was literal, not patronizing; I’d seen more than a few gods now, and I was beginning to think being larger than life was part of the gig. “Back there,” I said, changing subjects, “what is it ye wanted?”

  “From your ma? It’s not important.”

  “Ye keep sayin’ that, but I didn’t ask if it was important,” I replied, barely holding my anger in check. “I didn’t ask if it mattered. I just asked.” I stopped walking, forcing the sea god to either talk to me or continue on without me in tow.

  Manannan slowed, turned, and finally leaned against what looked to be the skeletal remains of the Chrysler Building, all that steel and stone eroding slowly into this realm. “Ye have her stubbornness, ye know.”

  “Quit tryin’ to sweet talk me and answer me question.”

  Manannan grunted a laugh. “Fair enough. Do ye remember the man in the boat that brought ye here?”

  “Ye mean Lugh,” I said. “I heard ye say his name when ye came to…” I paused, wondering how I should describe what Manannan had done. “When ye tucked him in.”

  “Aye, that’s one way to put it. Although I t’ink you’d be better off sayin’ I bespelled him. Somethin’ I’ve been doin’ for centuries, now.” Regret played around Manannan’s mouth, visible somehow in the lines of his deep frown.

  “Ye wanted to wake him up?” I offered.

  “Aye.”

  I thought back to those brief moments in which Lugh and I had exchanged glances, remembering the heat behind his eyes, the waves of power that had practically roiled off the storm god, and shuddered. “But why?”

  “Because he’s needed.”

  “Needed for what?”

  “That is none of your business,” Manannan replied. I opened my mouth to protest, but the sea god held up his hand. “I don’t owe ye answers, little one. What I tell ye, what any of us tell ye, is a gift to be respected. Best remember that.” A distant crack of thunder made me flinch.

  “Well,” I said, drawing out the word. “Could ye at least tell me what ye meant about me soul?”

  “Souls change. They grow. That shouldn’t surprise ye.” The sea god gestured for me to follow once more.

  “Of course,” I replied, falling in step. “But how has mine changed?”

  “Your boat’s down that dock,” Manannan said, pointing. I huffed at the change of subject but shifted directions all the same; no sense getting smited over a little Q&A, no matter what the topic.

  In less than a few minutes, we stood over the little row boat that was supposedly going to carry me to the Otherworld’s mainland. The sun, meanwhile, had begun to set, though it struck me that I’d seen no moon to take its place. “How d’ye have waves without a moon?” I asked, absentmindedly.

  “The waves will never still as long as I’m here,” Manannan replied, as if that made all the sense in the world. But then, maybe it did. The sea god nudged me towards the boat, and I noticed a bit more of his face peeking through the bandages, as if they’d fallen loose, somehow. The face beneath seemed smoother, too, the grizzled lines around his mouth faded, the stubble darker, less grey.

  I stepped into the boat gingerly, wishing I had more time, or that Manannan would have answered more of my questions. But then, before I could settle in, I felt the sea god’s hand on my shoulder, drawing me around. The arm attached to that hand, I noticed, was significantly more muscular, so much fuller, than it had been only a few minutes before.

  The sea god pointed at my chest. “Loss.” Then my stomach. “Fear, which breeds caution, but also self-doubt.” Then, finally, my head. “Purpose. None of which ye had when ye were here last. Those are the changes I see.”

  “I—” I began.

  “Remember this, Morrigan’s daughter,” Manannan interrupted, his grip tightening, “the Land of Youth is a temporary place, a realm unto itself. Do not dwell there long, no matter what. Listen to your guide, do exactly as he says, and ye may yet survive this journey intact.”

  “Intact?” I settled my hand over his. “What d’ye mean ‘intact’?”

  “This is the Otherworld,” the sea god replied. “Many have dreamt of this place, perhaps even longed to find it. But ye should know by now that not all dreams are good dreams, and not everythin’ ye look for should be found.”

  “What the—”

  “Listen to your guide, and don’t forget your purpose!” Manannan called as the boat beneath me sped off into the water, the force of it causing me to tumble backwards. I watched from the flat of my back as the sea god, no longer old at all, really, became a mere speck in the distance.

  Don’t forget my purpose, he’d said.

  But what was my purpose?

  8

  The mainland’s shoreline, when the sun rose and it finally came into view, was quite literally breathtaking. Which, considering the stunning view of Scotland’s coast I’d had so recently, meant it hardly seemed real. From leagues away, I could make out white cliffs rising up into the early morning sky, so tall I suspected they’d be snowcapped, like mountains. But, as I drew closer, I spotted flashes of vibrant green instead—lush forests shrouded in mist. By mid-morning, I noticed a ravine bisecting the nearest cliff, from which a beach of pure black sand spilled out, its edges rimmed by jagged, obsidian rocks which seemed more and more imposing the closer I got. Fortunately, Manannan’s boat seemed to have a mind of its own; it weaved through the eddies until the dinghy ran ashore, jerking to a halt amidst the surf.

  I rose, body aching slightly less than it had the last time I’d taken stock, but—between the cramped confines of the boat and the uncomfortable sleeping position I’d been forced to adopt—far from one hundred percent. That, and I still hadn’t eaten—a fact I became exceedingly aware of the moment I stepped onto the beach. The pitch black sand was fine and powdery beneath my feet, although surprisingly cold, as if untouched by the sun above. I clutched at my grumbling stomach, licked my impossibly dry lips, fought to breathe through my parched throat, and searched the beach for signs of my guide.

  “Where the hell is that mangy dog, anyway?” I grumbled, turning, only to jerk back in shock as something rose from the sand only a few feet away.

  A black beast I’d mistaken for one of the rocks, its flanks and chest scoured with faint druidic markings the color of smoldering coals over fur a shade of black so deep it was almost purple, climbed to all fours and shook, fl
inging sand in all directions.

  Which included mine.

  I sputtered and backed away, coughing and cursing as I tried to cover my face from the barrage of sand. By the time I looked back up, the creature stood a foot away from me, its brooding face—somewhere between dog and panther—even with mine, piercing amber eyes peering directly into my own. This close, I could see its massive canines flash, its powerful jaws bunching as it spoke. Yes, spoke.

  “You the Morrigan’s brat?”

  I took an involuntary step back, opened my mouth, then closed it. I was too surprised, and perhaps—though I hated to admit it—too frightened to speak. My heart hammered in my chest. Finally, I balled my fists and shook my head, clearing it. “Aye, and who the fuck are ye supposed to be?” I asked, matching the creature’s bitchy tone with one of my own.

  “Name’s Cathal. Come with me if you want to live.”

  And, with that, the hound turned and began padding towards the ravine.

  “Seriously?” I asked, scowling, anger rising. It struck me that—after being dragged from one realm to the other, not to mention strong-armed into following Manannan around like a lost puppy while he and my mother’s ghost decided my fate—I’d just about had it with people ordering me about. And now I had a dog the size of a damn pony bossing me around? Fat fucking chance. “Oy! Cathy!” I yelled.

  The hound’s massive shoulders bunched, the muscles beneath that sleek fur rippling, his markings slightly less grey than they had been a moment before, closer now to white ash. He turned, then sat on his hind legs, glaring at me with those haunting, honey-colored eyes. “What did you call me?”

  “What? Ye don’t like nicknames?” I grinned, sensing his irritation. “Well, I don’t like bein’ called anyone’s brat. So maybe we both try this again. Ye can start by tellin’ me where we’re goin’, and I’ll start by listenin’.”

  Cathal lifted those eyes to the skies above, the long line of his throat exposed as he huffed out what was either a bark or a sigh. “Mac Lir warned me you’d be a pain in the ass.”