All hail working lungs!
He turned back toward his real body where it was being crushed and bludgeoned by huge, brutish attackers.
Dang, he’d done well to keep them off him. But that was an ugly, ugly sight. And he had no idea how the púca was going to fight them off. For a moment, he fully expected the púca to get them both killed.
Then, with a fierce battle cry and unbelievable dexterity that made a mockery of what Nick could do on a football field, the puck came up from the ground in Nick’s body. He swung the Malachai sword and went after the others fast and furious, and with a martial skill Nick envied. A part of him doubted he would ever be that good with a sword.
But then, he wasn’t a god of war.
Whoever the púca had been before his banishment, he must have been incredible on a battlefield. ’Cause he still had it. And its evil cousin and all its friends.
In a matter of minutes, the púca had every single attacker scattered and fleeing into the night, begging for mercy and whimpering as they ran.
Yeah, he had rung every bell as promised and found a few in the field no one had seen.
Barely breathing hard, he turned toward Nick and let loose a proud, arrogant smile that said he’d thoroughly enjoyed every second of that brisk fight.
Laying the blade of the sword over his shoulder, he held his hand up before his face and made a tight fist. He kissed it reverently. “I’ve so missed having a physical body. You just don’t know, boyo… You. Just. Don’t. Know.”
The anguished joy in his voice concerned Nick greatly. “You are going to give that back, right?”
He met Nick’s gaze with a hooded, unfathomable stare. For a second, Nick thought he’d made a bad mistake.
Until the púca held his hand out to him and grinned in friendship. “Aeron, cursed, damned, and forgotten son of the Morrígan. Nice meeting you, Malachai.”
Nick tried to shake his hand, only to see just how frustrating it was to be noncorporeal. No wonder Aeron hated it so.
Gah! It sucked!
Aeron snorted good-naturedly before he exchanged places with Nick again.
Nick took a moment to fully appreciate his “skin” and, best of all, nerve endings, before he faced Aeron’s ghost form. The puck’s skin was pearly white and translucent. Like shimmering moonlight. His pale eyes reminded him of Acheron’s swirling silver ones. Even his hair was silvery white and long. He would be pretty but for the masculine jawline and rugged air that clung to him even though he was a ghostly white. His clothes were those of an ancient warlord, complete with a bare, muscled chest that showed battle scars and a stylized Celtic raven tattoo.
Livia gaped at Aeron. “I can’t believe you kept your word to return his body.”
Aeron raked a less than pleased stare over her. “To you… I wouldn’t have.” He inclined his head respectfully to Nick. “You trusted me and that I would never betray. Trust, much like a woman’s love and affection, and brotherly friendship, is a sacred thing, and should never be lightly given nor abused nor taken for granted.”
Nick shrank his Malachai sword down and returned it to his pocket. “How long have you been trapped here?”
Aeron shrugged. “Time has long lost all meaning to me. But not to you. Come, boyo, and I’ll take you to the Nemed.”
Nick narrowed his gaze. “How do you know about that?”
A slow, charming grin curved his lips. “I may be weakened, but I do still have some of me powers, and I was just in your body, privy to your thoughts and mission.”
Oh, there was that.
Lerabeth finally swooped down to join them. “I am to take him. ’Tis my mission and duty, púca, not yours!”
Nick just loved how she couldn’t help with the fight, but could interfere with the help. How typical was that?
Arching an arrogant brow, Aeron stared at the bird. “I know this realm better than anyone.” He returned his silvery gaze to Nick. “But you have to keep faith in me, Malachai. If you doubt me at all, for even an instant, I will vanish. Those are the laws of me existence. No matter what happens or what you see, you must continue to believe that I’m leading you to your destination. Do you understand?”
“Got it.”
“Then follow me and ignore everything else.” He glared meaningfully at the bird. “Especially the barking dogs who are trying to distract you from your goal.”
“I’m not a dog, puck.”
“I’m not really a púca, bird. I was born the son of the Morrígan and the Dagda.”
Bemused by their banter, Nick did have one thing that concerned him about Aeron. “Before we start, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why are you helping me?”
He glanced away, but not before Nick caught the bitter sadness in his shimmery gaze. “You freed Xevikan when no Malachai ever has. For that kindness, I be owing you.”