Page 3 of The Tides of March (Moon Murder Mysteries)
Two
One month earlier…
A Roman had washed up on his beach.
Dumped. A Roman had been dumped on the beach and Ronan was properly pissed off as he gathered the young man in his arms and carried him to the cottage. Ronan had sensed that a ship was close, despite the godawful night and the howling winds. The Roman was sick when Ronan came upon him—and unconscious—but he was beautiful . Ronan was momentarily captivated by thick, black lashes, perfectly chiseled features, and wide, softly curved lips. The lad looked like he smiled a lot, but Ronan could feel that the young man’s spirit was waning and that his heart was too heavy.
Ronan’s siren soul also noted the young man’s lean, yet muscular frame and immediately craved the taste of his skin, his tongue, and his cum. It was an insatiable reflex that often plagued Ronan when there were visitors to his island. Being a merrow, Ronan was cursed with inconvenient desires whenever he was in the presence of another. But being a merrow man meant that Ronan was so viciously ugly, no one would ever desire him in return.
And like his merrow brethren and all those who had come before him, Ronan despised humanity—mainly men—and preferred to be left alone. He’d made his home on Pooles Island one-hundred-and-ninety five years ago and had lived a mostly private and peaceful existence, free of any annoying desires or interferences.
Ronan wasn’t the only secret on Pooles Island. After it was taken from the Iroquois, The Army had used it to test various munitions and the island was considered part of Aberdeen Proving Grounds. It was off limits but Ronan had made an agreement with a past commander to maintain the lighthouse and keep trespassers off the island in exchange for the small patch of beach he had built his cottage on. That commander had retired decades ago, but none of his replacements or the armory sergeants that came and went throughout the years ever thought to inquire about the crusty old asshole running the lighthouse on Pooles Island.
That was how Ronan liked it, but his instincts warned that the castaway in his arms could upend his safe, quiet, orderly life. Strangers often brought trouble with them to Pooles Island and Ronan knew which strange troublemaker had dumped this castaway on his beach. He’d give Lennox MacIlwraith an earful as soon as his “guest” was comfortably resting.
If it were up to Ronan, he would have called his dogs back inside and shut the door when he spotted the bay boat steering away from the shore. And he would have turned back when he found the body on the beach. But he was bound by an ancient oath and the body called to Ronan, beckoning and demanding his attention and aid. The urge to claim and care for the young man was so strong, Ronan was aching and sweating by the time he carried him through the small cottage’s front door.
Ronan was thoroughly disgusted with humanity and Lennox MacIlwraith when he laid the young man on the bed and brushed the hair away from his face. It was damp and stringy from the weather and illness, but Ronan suspected he would look like an angel when he was happy and healthy. Ronan also sensed that he had made this young man sick and was the cause of his unconsciousness.
How Ronan had managed to enchant a stranger was a concerning mystery, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the undead changeling that had attacked him a few weeks earlier. Ronan had been out with his dogs, patrolling the beach, when a small, screaming corpse flew at him. It knocked Ronan onto the sand and would have sucked the life out of him if it hadn’t been for the dogs. They circled and quickly understood that Ronan was in danger and had pounced on the little horror, sending it fleeing as swiftly as it had appeared.
Thankfully, Ronan was able to drag himself back to his cottage and nurse himself back to health. He had been safe inside the cottage because Lucas MacIlwraith had warded it against dark magick and demons, but Ronan should have asked that it be warded against the witch’s son as well.
“And yer a strange one, aren’t ye?” Ronan mumbled, nodding as he took in the classic Roman features and sensed a hint of something ancient in the young man’s destiny. “The past is upon us, lad.”
The past had made the beautiful Roman sicker than any enchantment could, but Ronan would heal him of that as well and send him on his way as quickly as possible. Once he’d woken the Roman up.
“Let’s get ye out of these wet things and see what we’re dealin’ with,” Ronan said as he set about stripping his new guest out of his cold, soggy layers.
An hour later, Ronan’s charge was resting comfortably beneath two quilts. His color was already improving but Ronan had to build up the fire until the cottage was as hot as an oven. He was at the stove, checking a pot of stew when he heard a weak mumble from the bed behind him.
“Smells s’good…” the Roman slurred drowsily as he stirred.
Ronan dried his hands, approaching the bed carefully. He didn’t want to alarm the Roman and knock him unconscious again so Ronan cleared his throat softly. “Aye, lad… Yer in me cottage and no one can harm ye now,” he said as soothingly as his gruff voice could manage. “Stew’ll be ready soon, if ye feel up to wakin’ and eatin’.”
“Hmmm…” The young man nodded drunkenly, his eyes still closed as he drifted toward consciousness. “I’m tired of…tired,” he whispered but it ended on a sad sigh. “So tired.”
“We’re all tired, but layin’ there and waiting for somethin’ to change won’t fix ye.”
There was a soft chuckle and the Roman nodded, finally opening his eyes. They lifted to Ronan’s and the young man offered him a pained grimace. “Sorry about before. I wasn’t sure what I was in for, getting dropped on a dark, dreary beach. But you’re not so scary when you aren’t snarling and swearing.”
That surprised Ronan and he laughed wryly. “I imagine it was a shock, seeing the likes of me standing over ye,” he said, only to earn a shrug in response.
“A teddy bear could have scared me, I’m such a wimp. But Nox told me you’re sensitive about your appearance and being around people so I should have been cooler. My name’s Tony,” he said as he attempted to push himself upright but barely managed to lift his head off the pillows. He fell back with an “Oof!” and grunted in defeat as he shut his eyes. “Thought I was feeling better.”
“Ye’ll start feelin’ better, now that yer here, but we’ll go slowly. Aye?” Ronan said as he raised his hands before reaching around Tony and adjusting the pillows so he was sitting. He’d surprised Ronan by apologizing to him for being scared at his first sight of a merrow.
“Thanks,” Tony said, smiling as he allowed Ronan to tuck the covers around his middle. “I’m naked?” he asked but it was Ronan who blushed and nodded, turning back to the stove.
“Yer clothes were soaked, down to yer drawers,” he explained and waved at the clothes drying on the rack by the hearth. “Gave it all a quick warsh while ye were resting.”
“I appreciate that,” Tony replied weakly, his eyes closing again. “I’ve felt like I was dying for the last few days, but being cold and soaking wet made it all just a little bit worse.”
“I suppose that could get uncomfortable…” Cold and wet never bothered Ronan. In fact, he felt most at home with the cold spray in his face and a whipping wind. “Do ye know how ye got sick like this?”
Tony nodded, his eyes opening briefly so he could scowl. “This shitty little zombie kid grabbed me. Tried to suck the life out of me and I haven’t been able to fully wake up or stay awake since the attack,” he mumbled but he might as well have yelled it, Ronan swore as he backed away from the bed to return to their soup.
“I know the little shite. He came at me too. It was a little over a week ago.”
“Here?” Tony asked and shook his head. “How did he get here and what was he doing in Georgetown a few days later?” he wondered but Ronan didn’t think that was important.
“I think he used whatever he sucked out of me to attack ye, and that’s why ye can’t wake up.”
“That’s what Nox and Merlin think,” Tony said, nodding weakly. “They also think you’re the only one who can heal me, so they delivered me to your doorstep. So to speak.”
“Aye… That’s the way of it. In theory, at least. I’ve never enchanted anyone before and it’s been ages since I’ve seen an enchantment at work,” Ronan explained as he opened the pot on the stove and tested one of the potatoes. It was soft so he went to the cupboard for some bowls. “Or seen one lifted,” he added with a gravelly chuckle.
“But you can do it?” Tony asked hopefully. “I don’t mean to be pushy, but I’m sick of sleeping and these dreams are… Dark and intense. I want out.”
“Should be able to. There’s no spell or potion as far as I know, it’s more a matter of a merrow’s will. And I sure as fuck don’ wanna keep ye,” Ronan added, despite the covetous yearning he felt as he ladled stew into one of the bowls. He ignored the lewd impulses, calmly placing a bowl on a tray, along with a thick slice of bread, leaving room for a teacup. Ronan checked the teapot, grunting in approval at the color of the tea before filling the cup.
“What do you mean, a matter of will?” Tony asked, cracking open an eye and groaning gratefully at the tray as Ronan approached the bed. “Thanks!” His eyes were shut and Tony remained relaxed with his arms at his sides as Ronan set the tray on his lap.
“Ye wouldn’ wake up if I wanted to keep ye here. But since I don’, it should wear off soon and ye should come out of it.”
“Thank goodness. I’m feeling more alert. Still drained and woozy when I open my eyes, though,” Tony said, thanking Ronan again when his hands were guided to the spoon and the bowl.
“Can ye manage?”
“I think. I haven’t had an appetite for days but I feel like I could eat the whole pot now.”
“Taste it first,” Ronan said, laughing softly. “Ye might change yer mind.”
He looked on as Tony lifted the spoon to his lips with a pleasantly steady hand and took a taste. “Yup. That’s good. Send over the whole pot,” he declared but it took nearly all of Tony’s strength to feed himself the bowl and slice of bread. He yawned loudly and fell back against the pillows when Ronan removed the tray. “My compliments to the chef. I need a break, but I’m gonna demolish the leftovers,” he stated with a nod and stifled a yawn.
“So… That zombie shite attacked ye,” Ronan continued awkwardly as he gathered the tray. He was curious about how much MacIlwraith had told Tony. “Is there anything else ye can remember about the attack or do ye know anything that might explain why it happened to ye?”
“To me?” Tony shook his head. “I have no idea. From what Nox and Merlin told me, it was hunting for magickal beings and draining their strength and magick from them. But I’m not magick. I’m just a history and mythology nerd from Silver Spring.”
A humph wafted from Ronan as he picked up his own bowl and prodded the contents. “I’m not sure about that last part, but I wouldn’ say yer not magick. Yer not not magick, if that makes any sense,” he said with shrug.
“No… That’s really confusing,” Tony said with a laugh. It sounded much more natural for Tony than the disappointment and defeat Ronan sensed.
“Well, yer a Roman and a child of Epona, so I imagine that’s why it went after ye. And yer in MacIlwraith’s service, aren’t ye?”
“A child of Epona?” Tony frowned, shaking his head slowly. “My mom’s family is from Rome and I visited a few times when I was a kid, but I don’t know that I’d say we were Roman…”
That got a hard snort out of Ronan. “I know a Roman when I see one and there’s horses and temples in yer ancestry. I can see that too,” he stated with a firm nod.
Tony cracked an eye open. “You can see it?”
“Aye…” Ronan squinted and listened through the crackling of the fire and the howling of the wind outside the cottage and he could hear the thunder of horses’ hooves and he saw the bodies of women, swaying around a fire. “Yer people were Roman and they worshipped the horse goddess and the god of wild things, the Dagda.”
“Where did you—?” Tony forced his eyes open and blinked groggily at Ronan. “I know that Nox is some variation of the Dagda and that he’s been hiding that from everyone—including me—but I’m not magick like him. And I’m not in his service, I was just his TA and now I’m kind of like an apprentice professor.”
“Sure… Ye wouldn’ have any magick…” Ronan agreed hesitantly. “The Epona folk were mostly women and priestesses, but they revere the Dagda and their devotion helped keep his spirit alive.”
“Ha! I’m not a woman,” Tony noted, pointing at Ronan.
“But ye were born to one and I’d bet she was a disciple. An important one at that.”
“I think I’d know if my mom was a—” Tony started to contradict him but Ronan interrupted.
“She a teacher too?”
“Yes, but?—”
“She ever marry? Where’s yer da?” Ronan asked and Tony’s jaw fell. “Ye don’ have one, do ye? And I bet if ye ask yer other fae friends, they don’ either. I don’ have a da and me mam left me on a fisherman’s doorstep after she got tired of lookin’ at me.”
“Nox had a dad. So did his dad,” Tony said, making Ronan snicker.
“Aye. They would because they’re a different kind of fae. They’re Fae—with the big F—and that kind of magick is passed from parent-to-child. It’s potent and it’s wild and it’ll kill ye, if ye aren’t extra special, like that last MacIlwraith. Regular fae magick—the kind with the little f—fades if ye forget it and it’s rarely good for much more than vexing children or the odd seaman.”
“Unless you collect a lot of fae magick,” Tony said with a scowl. “So that shitty zombie kid used your magick to attack me so I can’t help Nox and make him stronger.”
“That would be my guess. Unless ye have another motive.”
Tony managed a weak shrug. “I’d need to know a lot more but I’ve been kept in the dark about pretty much everything until recently. Until that kid sucked the life out of me, I thought Nox was a human like the rest of us and there was no such thing as monsters.”
“I can see how that would be a rude awakening,” Ronan said with a sympathetic grunt but Tony shook his head.
“It was rude. Still waiting on that awakening Nox promised. Any time now would be great .”
He sounded almost as peeved as Ronan did to find a man dumped on his beach and into his care. But for once, Ronan was glad for the company and he kind of liked this man. Kind of.
“I’ll get right on that and have ye on yer way as soon as possible.”