The Cailleach Bheur banged her staff against the ground, spreading ice all around her. “A bargain must be kept. I am here to see it done.”
“As are we all,” the Dagda said as he drew near.
The crunch of bone had Patrick looking over at Jono, seeing the other man shifting from wolf to human. When Jono turned to meet his gaze, no sign of Fenrir was left in his wolf-bright blue eyes.
Jono scratched at his bare chest, smearing blood over healed skin. “You all right?”
“I’m not the one wearing blood like I’m an extra in a documentary about Picts,” Patrick retorted.
Jono rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Your patron is an asshole.”
“Yeah, not gonna fight you on that one.”
Jono sidled closer and Patrick moved to stand in front of him. Jono was a line of heat against his back that Patrick wanted to sink into, but now wasn’t the time.
They both turned to watch the Dagda heave himself off the white stag, who barely moved as the god dismounted. The stag’s rack of antlers looked to be about as tall as Patrick, but that didn’t stop the beast from bending his neck to nibble at the spring grass pushing through the snow.
“Medb,” the Dagda said with a fierce smile as he planted his staff against the ground.
The Queen of Air and Darkness raised her chin defiantly. “Dagda.”
“This fight ends now. You made a bargain. Words were spoken. Intent was given. Tasks were accepted and completed.”
“My price wasnotmet.”
“You failed to mitigate Cú Chulainn’s offer in an attempt to lure him and the followers he has gained home toÉire. You failed, and that does not discharge you of your debts.” The Dagda pointed his staff at Medb. “I know what you stole. I know what you hide. Count your blessings it is I and not my wife who offers judgment here.”
Patrick figured if the Morrígan was acting as judge, jury, and executioner, they’d all be six feet under right about now.
Gerard stepped forward and bowed to the Dagda. “I ask that mine and Medb’s bargain be finished,Eochaid Ollathair.”
“And it shall, Cú Chulainn.”
The Dagda strode over to where Balor sprawled on the ground, blood still trickling from the wound in his shoulder. The giant turned his head at the Dagda’s approach, but did not open his destructive eye.
“I would kill you,” Balor rumbled.
“I am remembered far more deeply than you,” the Dagda replied. “But there are greater threats afoot than the old wrongs between us.”
Balor did not flinch when the Dagda grabbed theGáe Bulgand poured his magic into the weapon. The notched spearhead snapped back together into a single piece of metal within the god’s body, slicing through more flesh and bone. Blood gushed from the wound as the Dagda pulled the spear free.
Balor covered the wound with one big hand. “Will you take your vengeance, Dagda?”
“This is not where your story ends. You will fade, and my children will rise. That is an end I can live with. Vengeance pales before that sweetness.”
The Dagda raised thelorg mórand tapped the staff against the wound. Balor wasn’t dead, but the end of the staff that could bring the dead to life healed the wound whole again. Balor took in a deep breath, and Patrick seriously thought the Dagda would be blown off the face of the earth by that destructive eye.
“We are fading. We wanted those who remembered us to return,” Balor said through gritted teeth.
“There are better ways to go about that than kidnapping children.”
“We all do what we must to survive in this age.”
“That we do.” The Dagda walked away from the immortal, heading toward Medb. He pointed his staff at the goddess, staring her down. “Close out the bargain, or it will be known your word is worthless.”
Even from the distance between them, Patrick could see the rage on Medb’s face at being outmaneuvered. “Dagda—”
