Daughter of the Tides, Servants of the Moon Book 2

Moon’s Gate Temple…

Trapped in the place beyond the Moon’s Tides, Comhnyall MacGealimir thrashed in his sleep. His door opened, and a tiny figure crept in to the room, perching at the foot of his bed. As he snarled, clawing the sheets, Ainsley Wemyss reached out an touched his ankle. Her eyes glowed of moonlight and the air smelled salted like the sea.

His golden beast rolled to its feet, with a challenging howl that echoed from every direction in this infernal realm. The cracked clay earth with boiling, putrid blood oozing up was the closest thing he had ever imagined to what the humans called hell. A burning wind carrying a sulfurous stench and ochre dust swirled around him and he was lost. He squinted in every direction seeking a way from this place. In the distance, there echoed the screech of a giant bird of prey.

‘You cannot escape me, son of Wemyss. You will carry the soul of my servant to victory.’

‘I’ll never serve ye, ye foul beast!’ He snarled. His Scottish accent thick in this place between the world of the living and the spirits.

A cool hand touched him and he turned ready to strike, but it was a tall, willowy woman with long, stringy red hair. She was dressed as Delphi Delilah had been in this place when she took him there to meet their enemy. The oracle wore a tattered gown and dirty, blood-soaked bandages over her eyes. He knew her immediately.

“Ainsley, we must flee this place.”

She nodded her head, then she took his hand and ran, pulling him behind her through the choking clouds of dust and vapors covering the smoking wasteland.

Great wings passed overhead, shadowing them, and the enemy promised deceitfully, “Only I can return what you lost, future king. Kneel to me and I will give you back your mate. I will even spare the little one.”

“Ye’ll not touch her!” Comhnyall paused at the lip of a great canyon, pulling her behind him, but the adult tidal form of Ainsley shoved him hard and he fell from a great height…

“Comhnyall... Comhnyall...”

The voice he had loved the most in his life, whispered to him. He felt like he was lying on soft grass, as fingers gently brushed through his hair. His eyes opened so slowly, not wanting the sensation to stop because he knew this was a dream. Eyes as golden as the dawn looked down into his, as coppery curls fell across one freckled cheek while she tucked the other side behind her ear.

“Hello mo ceile (my mate). I have missed ye.” Her voice was the sweetest music he had ever heard, and he almost choked on his heart as it thundered in his chest.

“Moire... Am... Am I dead?” he stammered.

She smiled, shaking her head, “Nay, mo ceile, ye are not dead. This is just a dream.” Then her smile faded as a tear ran down her cheek. “Ye cannot keep holding on to me, the wolves of the land need ye to be strong without me.”

He struggled to lift his hand to her face, but he could not move, “Moire... I cannot be what the Delphi says... I... I am nothin’ without ye. My soul and my wolf want only to be with ye again.”

She bent forward hugging his head, her cheek rested on his forehead as soft as love’s caress, “I’ve had more time than I should have. A boon from the Moon, so ye would not grieve yourself over all that death at once.”

A breeze blew, and the sound of waves came to his ears. He felt her slipping away. “Do not leave me,” he begged, struggling to move. “Please Moire, take me with ye. Please... please.”

But she looked down on him with pain and love in her eyes, the same way he had looked down on her in those last moments before she left him.

Her voice was a gentle caress, “I love ye, but ye must let me go as someday I will have to let ye go.” Moire sounded so far away as fog obscured everything. “Do not forget to look for love again. Love and live enough for both of us. Goodbye, Comhnyall.”

“Moire! No! Come back! I love ye!” he shouted, struggling to stand in the grayness. “MOIRE!”

Suddenly, Delilah was standing before him in the fog, her white gown glowing with moonlight. Her dark cornflower blue eyes were sad, but her voice was stern, “I am sorry, Comhnyall. You have to go; you should not be here on the Tides.”

Then he was falling...

“No!” Comhnyall roared as he sat up in bed.

His wolf howling in pain. His face was wet with tears. A movement drew his attention. He was not alone in his room. Ainsley was sitting on the end of his bed, her face wet with tears, her eyes shined her sadness. She scooted toward him on her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck. He clung to her like he had the first morning after the Servants had taken him home. After Moire had gone to the Moon without him.

Home... He had no home now; the place he and Moire had made into a home was gone. She was gone. Everything was gone. Everyone was gone. HE didn’t want to be here.

“I’m here,” Ainsley’s whisper made almost no sound.

“I can nah do it, Ainsley. I can nah be the one to save everyone, I could nah even save mo ciele and pup.” He breathed out tiredly. “They have the wrong wolf.”

“Nay, they do not.” Ainsley looked into his sky-blue eyes with her antique gold ones. She shook her head slowly, whispering almost silently. “The Moon does not make mistakes. She believes in ye and so do I.”

He hugged her against his chest, laying his cheek on her dark coppery curls.

“I hope ye are not wrong, beag sionnach (little fox).” He said the words, but his heart did not believe them. His destiny; he couldn’t see it now, not without Moire beside him. “I hope ye are not wrong,” he repeated softly, looking toward the southern sky.

“I’m not, bràthair-cèile (brother-in-law mate/mate of my sister). the Delphi has seen it too.”

“She was there, she made me come back. She made Moire leave me.” He couldn’t contain the growl in his chest.

“It was my fault, I should nah have taken ye across the Tides after the Burnin’ One lured ye to his lands, but ye needed to see Moire. The Delphi will be cross with me. I knew she would find us, but I did it for ye and Moire, to ease yorn heart.” Ainsley coughed slightly with the strain of using her damaged vocal cords, even at a toneless whisper.

“Don’t talk anymore, beag sionnach. Just sit with me and thank ye for taking me to see mo ceile.” He meant his gratitude with every beat of his aching heart, to see Moire even for a moment was a gift. Soon Ainsley fell asleep, curled against his chest. He didn’t even feel her scant weight as he breathed, staring at the long, dark night beyond the thick glass.

The snow had stopped for now. Dawn was a few hours away but had just begun to paint the cloud-striped horizon the colors of gray slate and dark cornflower blue. Nyall was beginning to hate the color of the Delphi’s eyes, or perhaps it was the Delphi herself he hated, for taking him from Moire on the Tides, and for not finding a way to heal her while she was still alive.

Des Rues Territory…

Soleil watched Charles out of the corner of her eye, he was upset, but not at her or her son. He was angry at the Oracle Valeria and her useless son. Charlemagne had once again failed to bring a small pack into alliance with them, but she knew Helios would not fail. Her son already had made a follower of one who was hungry for prestige. The Alpha’s foolish daughter with her weak chance-mate stood no hope of resisting her son’s charms, nor did the weak-faithed wolves of the northern Appalachian Mountains. By next winter’s solstice, the pack would be theirs along with many others.

There were a few in each pack who held the belief in their Moon Goddess but, for the most part, the wolves of this land had been influenced by the lifestyles of the humans. Many were already rejecting their deity and family values in favor of comfort and materialism. She had schooled Helios in the ways of charismatic televangelists, so his rhetoric was confident, believable, and offering rewards beyond what was given. A simple pledge of faithfulness, and renunciation of those “backwards old beliefs” allowed access to a world of wealth. No one had ever asked how it was acquired, they only wanted it. They never cared about those who were sacrificed for their wealth because they didn’t want to know. They wanted their basest desires fulfilled and so the Sun-worshipers made sure they were. A generation raised without a strong faith in a deity, convinced that the deity of their ancestors was outdated, was a generation who would follow any deity.

Soleil reached over and rubbed the spot behind his ear that aroused him, treating him like the beast he was, as her voice purred, “What is wrong, my Alpha? You seem distracted and disappointed?”

Charles growled in irritation, “Charlemagne has failed again. Another pack has chosen the Temples of the Moon, and those foolish old ways over building a modern monarchy and parliament.”

Soleil let her fingers trail along his jaw and turned his face toward her. “Do they not see that they need to be united under one strong wolf and a group of strong leaders to guide all wolves into a better future. That only you and your sons are strong enough to be those wolves?”

“No my dearest, they don’t,” he snarled.

“Then they are fools, you are a god among wolves, all should see it. Let them hide in their high hills for the winter, then Helios shall go to them again and give them a choice, join your kingdom or go to their moon.” Her silky deep voice soothed his wolf and he pulled her into his lap, smelling her neck as he nipped at her skin.

A contented rumble came from his chest, “Soleil, every moment I wish you could be my queen.”

She laughed, shifting her body so she straddled him in his chair. “Let that pompous, preening Oracle Valeria pretend to be queen, everyone knows the king’s concubine is the one who has his heart and his ear.”

He grunted as he thrust into her, his teeth breaking the skin on her neck. She cried out in pain and pleasure as he dominated her.

‘Vulgar beast,’ she thought as he continued, but she ran her fingers through his hair, tugging at it in the way he liked. Her mind dwelling on the reason for everything she did.

‘A few more winters will pass, and, after those seasons, all will be ready. This fool Alpha’s kingdom shall belong to my son and my god.’