Echoes from the Veil by Colleen Halverson

Author:Colleen Halverson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: paranormal romance; fae romance; contemporary fantasy romance; medieval romance; epic fantasy romance; gods; urban fantasy; war; rebellion; action adventure; coalition; subterfuge; underworld; evil magic, druid, warrior, blackmail, love, romance; Opposites Attract; Forbidden Love; End of the World; Blackmail; Redemption; Echoes From the Veil; Colleen Halverson; Aisling Chronicles; Amara; Full Length Romance; Entangled Publishing;
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2020-01-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Finn’s hand grazed my arm as we left Torc’s office.

“Are we prepared to fight against these people?” he asked in a low voice. “We don’t know what lies ahead.”

My mind traveled back to Maeve and what she had said about cultivating allies. “Torc wants power. Power over London.” I turned and winked at Finn. “But who is more powerful than the person who gives that power? As long as he thinks himself a chieftain, he’ll be content.”

“And fight alongside us,” he continued.

“And you’re wrong about one thing.” I whirled, cutting off Finn. “I do know what lies ahead—victory.”

I pushed open the storage room and found Eamonn still seated on the floor, staring at his fallen idol. My heart constricted for a moment. The great Morven, a Red Druid, a sorcerer of the highest order, struck down by a tiny bullet through the brain. Eamonn was right. So much knowledge—erased. He had been our link to the past, to the old magic that had created the Veil, that had constructed the boundaries of the ancient worlds. What else would we lose before this ended?

“We need to go,” I said softly.

Eamonn nodded. Gathering up our energies, I closed my eyes and traveled us back to Tír na nÓg, to the caves. When I opened my eyes again, dusk had fallen on the Faerie realm. I glanced up at the sky, hoping the darkness had abated, but the black hole remained like a festering sore in the heavens. At least it hadn’t become any bigger.

I turned to Finn. “Can you carry Morven?”

He nodded, and I led us up a hill. All of Tír na nÓg lay sprawled around us. The wind whipped my hair and tore through my tunic. I fingered the coarse cloth, pulling my sleeves over my hands with my thumbs. Scáthach had placed so much faith in me, faith I didn’t think I deserved. With so many unknowns, the battle ahead needed leaders. We couldn’t wallow in uncertainty. We had to make our fate.

“We can bury him here,” I said, pointing to a patch of grass beneath a tall ash tree.

Eamonn shook his head. “Druids burn the dead.” He uttered a few words in his foreign Druid language and then a great burst of blue light shot from his fingers. Morven burst into bright cerulean flames, and in an instant, he was gone.

I locked eyes with Eamonn and nodded. “So much depends on you now. I have the blood, but you have the power to destroy the device.”

“I don’t—”

I cut him off. “I know. You don’t know if you can do it. None of us do. But I need you to try. And in the meantime, use what we have left to transform the weapons we have into the weapons we need. Every drop is priceless.” I poured some blood into a vial I still possessed and handed it to him, retaining the rest at my side. The substance was too precious, too volatile to keep all in one place.

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