Burned

Taken off guard, Stark shifted his attention to the Warrior. “Yours? I’m part of your Clan?” he said stupidly.

“I remember you being smarter when you were that young,” Sgiach told her Warrior.

“Aye,” the vampyre snorted. “Young or no, I had more sense than that.”

“I’m smart enough to know that the history of my human blood still gives me a tie to both of you and this island,” Stark said.

“Yie ur barely oot o yur nappies, boy,” the Warrior said sarcastically. “Yur better suited to schoolboy games, and there are nae o’ that ilk here on this island.”

Instead of pissing Stark off, the vamp’s words triggered his memory, and it was like Damien’s notes were there in front of him again. “That’s why it’s my right to enter the island,” Stark said. “I don’t know shit about what it takes to be Warrior enough to save Zoey, but I can tell you she’s more than a High Priestess. Before she was shattered, she was turning into something vampyres have never seen.” The thoughts kept coming to him, and as he spoke and saw the surprise in Sgiach’s face, the pieces of the puzzle fit together, and his gut told him he was following the right line of reasoning. “Zoey was becoming a Queen of the Elements. I’m her Warrior—her Guardian—and she’s my Ace. I’m here to learn how to protect my Ace. Isn’t that what you’re all about? Training Warriors to protect their Aces?”

“They stopped coming to me,” Sgiach said.

Stark thought he only imagined the sadness in her voice, but when her Warrior moved a little closer to his queen, as if he was so attuned to her needs that he meant to take even that small note of discomfort from her, Stark knew then, beyond any doubt, he’d found the answer, and he sent a silent “thank you, Nyx” to the Goddess.

“No, we haven’t stopped coming. I’m right here,” Stark told the ancient queen. “I’m a Warrior. I’m of the MacUallis blood. I’m asking for your help so that I can protect my Ace. Please, Sgiach, let me enter your island. Teach me how to keep my queen alive.”

Sgiach hesitated only long enough to share a look with her Warrior, then she lifted her hand, and said, “Failte gu ant Eilean nan Sgiath. . . Welcome to the Isle of Sgiach. You may enter my island.”

“Your Majesty.” Darius’s voice made everyone pause. The Warrior had dropped to one knee before the archway, Aphrodite standing a little way behind him.

“You may speak, Warrior,” Sgiach said.

“I am not of Clan blood, but I do protect an Ace; therefore, I ask for entry to your island as well. Though I don’t come as a newly made Warrior, I believe there is much here that I do not know— much here that I would like to learn while I stand at my brother Warrior’s side in his quest to save Zoey’s life.”

“This is a human female and no a High Priestess. How could yie be Oath Bound to her?” asked the vampyre Warrior.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name. Was it Shawnus?” Aphrodite stepped to Darius’s side and rested her hand on his shoulder.

“It’s feckn’ Seoras, are yie deaf, too?” the Warrior said, enunciating slowly. Stark was surprised to see his lips curling up at Aphrodite’s bitchy tone.

“Okay, Seoras.” She mimicked his accent with eerie accuracy. “I’m not a human. I was a fledgling who had visions. Then I wasn’t a fledgling anymore. And when I un- fledgling-ed, Nyx, for reasons I’m still pretty clueless about, decided to let me keep my visions. So now I’m the Goddess’s Prophetess. I’m hoping that, along with all the stress and eye-aches it gives me, this Prophetess stuff means I age gracefully, like your queen.” Aphrodite paused to bow her head to Sgiach, whose brows went up, but who didn’t strike her dead like Stark thought she deserved. “Anyway, Darius is my Oath Sworn Warrior. If I’m getting the allusion right, and here’s hoping ’cause I’m shitty at figurative language, I’m an Ace in my own way. So Darius does fit in with your Guardian Clan, blood tie or no blood tie.”

Stark thought he heard Seoras mutter, “Arrogant feckr,” at the same time Sgiach whispered, “Interesting.”

“Failte gu ant Eilean nan Sgiath, Prophetess and your Warrior,” Sgiach said.

Without any further discussion, Stark, carrying Zoey, followed by Darius and Aphrodite, passed beneath the marble archway and entered the Isle of Women.

Chapter 20

Stark

Seoras led them to a black Range Rover that was parked around the corner and out of sight of the archway. Stark stopped beside the vehicle. His face must have shown his surprise because the Warrior laughed, and said, “Did yie expect a wee cart an’ a Highland pony?”

“I don’t know about him, but I did,” Aphrodite said, climbing in the backseat beside Darius. “And for once I’m super glad to be wrong.”

Seoras opened the front passenger’s door for him, and Stark got in, holding Zoey carefully. The Warrior had started driving before Stark realized Sgiach wasn’t with them.

“Hey, where’s your queen?” Stark asked.

“Sgiach doesna need the motor tae be traveling her island.”

Stark was trying to figure out how to ask his next question when Aphrodite spoke up.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means Sgiach’s affinity isnae limited tae any element. Sgiach’s affinity is with this island. She commands everyone and everything on it.”

“Holy shit! Are you saying she can transport, like an undorky version of Star Trek? Not that it’s possible to be undorky about Star Trek,” Aphrodite said.

Stark started to consider ways to gag her without Darius freaking on him.

But the old Warrior was completely unruffled by Aphrodite. He simply shrugged, and said, “Aye, it will be as good an explanation as any.”

“You know about Star Trek?” came out of Stark’s mouth before his brain could stop it.

Again, the Warrior shrugged. “We do have the satellite.”

“And the Internet?” Aphrodite asked hopefully.

“And the Internetograph, too,” Seoras agreed, straight-faced.

“So you do let in the outside world,” Stark said.

Seoras glanced at him. “Aye, when it serves the queen’s purposes.”

“I’m not shocked. She’s a queen. She likes to shop, ergo the Internet,” Aphrodite said.

“She is a queen. She likes to be informed about the world and its goin’s on,” the Warrior said in a tone that didn’t invite further questions.

They rode on in silence until Stark started to get worried about the lightening in the eastern sky. He was just about to tell Seoras what would happen to him if he wasn’t inside and under cover at sunrise when the Warrior pointed ahead and to the left of the narrow road, saying, “The Craobh—the Sacred Grove. The castle is just beyond on the shore.”

Mesmerized, Stark gazed to the left of them at misshapen trunks of what must be deceptively spindly-looking trees because they held up an ocean of green. He only caught glimpses of what lay within the grove, layers of moss and shadow and clumps of more of the marble from which the archway had been made that appeared as splotches of sparkling light. And in front of all of it, like a beacon drawing travelers, was