Sword Song: The Isle of Destiny Series Read online

  Sword Song

  The Isle of Destiny Series

  Book 2

  Copyright © 2017 by Lovewrite Publishing

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Design:

  Rebecca Frank Cover Designs

  Editor:

  Elayne Morgan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any means without express permission of the author. This includes reprints, excerpts, photocopying, recording, or any future means of reproducing text.

  If you would like to do any of the above, please seek permission first by contacting the author at: [email protected]

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedicated to my friends – the ones who listen without judgment – my sisters. I love you all.

  “Always trust your gut. It knows what your head hasn’t figured out yet.”

  Chapter 1

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  epilogue

  Spear Song

  Author's Note

  Dedicated to my friends – the ones who listen without judgment – my sisters. I love you all.

  “Always trust your gut. It knows what your head hasn’t figured out yet.”

  Chapter 1

  “Another one of you? You’re getting to be quite the little pests.” Sasha Flanagan swore as she circled a silver-eyed man whose unblinking stare never left her face. His body coiled like a spring as he watched her every move, waiting to pounce.

  Deciding to ruffle his feathers a little, Sasha dipped forward and lashed out with a slim iron sword she’d fashioned for just such occasions. Pleased to see the silver-eyed man jump back, she pushed forward.

  “I don’t know where you come from or what you want with me, but you’ll be taking a message home to your friends,” Sasha said, darting forward again. She was rewarded with a yelp of pain from the man as the blade sliced neatly down his side. A trickle of silver seeped from him and he glared at her.

  “Either I kill you now or you walk away and tell your buddies to leave me alone,” Sasha said easily, her eyes tracking his every move, waiting for the subtle hint that would telegraph his next move.

  And seeing his arm jut forward with the dagger, she slid her blade neatly through the man’s heart, grimacing as he dissolved in a silvery puddle on the pavement in the alleyway behind her gallery.

  She’d gotten used to taking her blade everywhere with her. She hoped to figure out, one of these days, why she was being targeted by the fae, but for now, survival came first.

  With a sigh, Sasha flicked her long, straight black hair over her shoulder and picked up the trash bag from where she’d dropped it when she’d first come outside. Tossing it into the dumpster, she walked backwards to the door of her gallery before slipping inside and locking up behind her.

  Triple locks, iron-bound, and a security alarm.

  It wasn’t just for the fae, but also for the valuables she housed here. Cloak & Dagger was Sasha’s pride and joy and was far more than just a traditional gallery. With a focus on weaponry from every era, it housed one of the largest collections of ornate and intricately designed swords and daggers in all of Europe.

  She couldn’t quite say when her obsession with sharp instruments had come into play, exactly. It could have been at the tender age of four, when her father found her dancing on the counter with a knife in hand. Or it might have been when she discovered her first fencing book and taught herself with a thin stick behind the wall of the garden.

  Sasha smiled as she slipped her blade into the sheath at her belt. She still remembered the first time she’d slid the foil out and brandished it in front of her. Instantly, there had been a recognition – an understanding – that she was born to wield a weapon.

  What had followed that discovery was a strict study of martial arts, fencing, swordplay, and finally, an intense regimen of studies that had taken her across Europe to study ancient weaponry. Her good looks, combined with her no-nonsense manner, had opened more than one art collector’s door.

  And by the tender age of thirty, she’d opened her own store and become one of the leading experts in Celtic and Roman weaponry in Ireland, if not the world.

  One would think her prowess with a sword would have given her fiancé pause before cheating on her.

  Sasha rolled her eyes as she crossed the honey-toned wood floors of her gallery to flick the lights off in the front display windows. Pulling down the protective metal gate that secured the windows at night, she locked up and turned to look at her gallery.

  Aaron had never appreciated what she’d built here.

  The walls were covered with a cool grey paint color, just a hint darker than white, allowing the colors of the swords and daggers on display to pop. Sasha had created little collection areas that would walk a visitor through various eras of weaponry. The display was stunning and her store was one of her greatest accomplishments, if she did say so herself.

  Aaron had sniffed at her gallery and referred to it as “Sasha’s little folly.” Sasha shook her head as she crossed the room, switching off lights as she went. Her hand unconsciously went to the knife sheathed at her waist as she remembered the day she’d come home early to surprise Aaron and make him a home-cooked meal for once.

  Sasha huffed out a laugh.

  It was all so trite and boring, really, she thought as she sat at her desk and switched her laptop on. Same old story. Finding your lover in bed with someone else.

  Cheating was a coward’s way out. And the last thing Sasha needed was to be hitched to a lazy cheater. It had been a blessing in disguise, though at the time, Sasha had barely restrained herself from taking a knife to his unmentionables. She snorted. And I do mean unmentionable, she thought.

  Not that she hadn’t threatened it.

  The very real fear in his eyes had been enough to tame the beast inside Sasha, and she’d kicked him out that very day, and hadn’t had to see him since. She couldn’t say the experience had done anything to increase her willingness to trust other people again – but she was working on it.

  It didn’t help that silver-eyed fae had begun popping up everywhere she went, trying to kill her. That’ll do something to a person’s tru
st in pretty much everything and everyone.

  Sasha leaned in to read an email she’d received from a contact at the university she’d reached out to. For a month now, she’d been trying to dig deeper into the history of the fae in Ireland and how legend was interwoven with reality. Separating fact from fiction was an almost insurmountable task, but she was chipping away at it a day at a time.

  And the fact of the matter was – fae existed and they were trying to kill her.

  It was enough to keep her up all night seeking answers.

  Chapter Two

  He watched her. As he always did – always had.

  Declan Manchester leaned into the shadows of the alley as Sasha strode from the building at just before half one in the morning. She’d been keeping later and later hours over the past month and it was beginning to frustrate him. Didn’t she know better than to walk the streets alone late at night?

  The late February wind whipped around the corner of the darkened street, flipping a piece of paper into the air to flutter beneath the warm glow of a street light. Sasha strode past it, her stride long for her petite body, her head up and alert as she scanned the sidewalk. With slim black leggings tucked into no-nonsense black boots, a fitted leather jacket, and a black cap tugged low over her straight hair, she looked like she was about to rob a bank.

  Or like every city-dweller walking down the street in mid-winter.

  She favored black, Declan had learned through the years. He wondered why. With her black hair and piercing blue eyes, he often wondered if color would suit her better.

  But then she wouldn’t be his. His fierce Sasha, clad in black, conquering challenges head-on. His.

  His to protect.

  His to know.

  His for all time.

  Declan straightened and followed her, keeping to the shadows and never revealing himself. The time to tell her was close – but he’d yet to figure out if he was supposed to be the one to inform her of what was going on. Trusting that the Goddess would handle it, Declan had stuck to his orders of being invisible.

  The first treasure had been found. It was only a matter of time before his role with Sasha would escalate.

  Na Cosantoir were not supposed to reveal themselves.

  Their job was to protect the Seeker on her quest.

  And no matter how much Declan itched to talk to Sasha, to tell her how beautiful she was, how much he admired her gallery and who she was...

  It was forbidden.

  Chapter Three

  Sasha stepped lightly down the street that led to her small apartment. She’d learned to carry herself quietly, always listening, always scanning to see if anything triggered a warning in her brain.

  Shooting a glance behind her, she studied a shadowed alley carefully before moving forward.

  For a while now, she’d felt like she was being followed. Sasha just couldn’t shake the itchy feeling at the back of her neck that someone was watching her every move. It was a different feeling than the one she got when the fae were trying to attack her. Those attacks happened swiftly and triggered every alarm in her being.

  This feeling was... different. Comforting, almost.

  And that alone should trigger a warning, Sasha thought as she unlocked her door and clattered up the dimly lit stairway to her apartment. Wanting – or needing – a false sense of comfort made her vulnerable.

  And vulnerable was something that she refused to be again. She could thank Aaron for that little lesson. Sasha tossed her keys in a dish on a small table and swung her leather jacket off to hang on a hook by the door. Easy in, easy out. Triple locking her doors, Sasha turned and scanned her apartment, checking to see if any of her tells were out of place.

  She always left things arranged in a certain manner when she left her apartment – a throw pillow placed at an odd angle, a cupboard door left slightly open. If someone broke in and tried to hide their tracks, they’d automatically straighten the pillow or close the cupboard door.

  Seeing nothing amiss, Sasha followed the narrow hallway that led to her small bedroom. After the breakup with Aaron, she had found herself drawn to this small, quaint apartment, in direct opposition to the opulent modern penthouse that he had favored. Waste of money, Sasha thought as she flicked the light on in her bedroom and strode to her dresser. Why spend money on fancy tables and chairs when she could buy an eighteenth-century ruby-encrusted dagger?

  And that was just the first of the places where she and Aaron had differed.

  Sasha folded her clothes neatly and slipped a worn t-shirt over her head. Why was she even thinking of Aaron? It wasn’t like she missed him.

  Perhaps it was just to remind herself of her mistakes and how far she’d come, Sasha thought as she went through her evening skincare routine. Though she wasn’t one for makeup, her dewy skin was a point of pride and she religiously slathered it with the best creams and serums she could afford.

  She may have made a huge mistake with Aaron, but she wouldn’t be so careless with her skin.

  And on that note, Sasha thought as she slipped into bed, she’d do well to stay focused on the problems in her life that were bigger than a lazy cheat of an ex-boyfriend – like the email she’d scanned before she’d left work that night, from her old contact at Trinity College.

  The Four Treasures Celtic creation myth.

  It seemed she had more research to do.

  Chapter Four

  The sun was struggling to peek through the grey haze of clouds that hung low over the busy streets of Dublin. Grey weather wasn’t unusual to Dubliners and they hustled and bustled about their morning, clogging the sidewalks and streets on their way to work. Sasha dodged effortlessly through the people on the sidewalk, her mind focused on the contents of the email she’d received the night before.

  The story wasn’t that unusual. Well, perhaps it was, Sasha thought as she ducked out of the way of a man brandishing a hot cup of to-go coffee while yelling angrily into his cell phone. She just shook her head and kept moving. It wouldn’t be the city if there weren’t someone having a work crisis before eight in the morning.

  The Four Treasures myth was a story woven through Celtic history. It spoke of the Goddess Danu sending her children to Innisfail, also known as Ireland, with the goal of saving the land from evil fae that inhabited it. They took with them on their quest the four great treasures of the four great god cities. It was all very mythological and beautiful, heavy with history, ripe with drama and battle, as legends were wont to be.

  But how that had anything to do with her current situation, Sasha couldn’t quite figure out. Still, at the very least, it gave her a direction to focus upon.

  “Day at a time, Sash,” Sasha murmured to herself as she glanced over her shoulder before quickly unlocking the back door of her gallery and slipping inside. It had been her mantra when she’d gone through her breakup with Aaron, too. Now that fae were trying to murder her, she supposed ‘a day at a time’ took on a lot more meaning.

  As she glanced at her collections, she was instantly soothed. There was something about being close to her swords and daggers that calmed her.

  Which, she could admit, might make her sound like a nutter to some people.

  Okay, most people.

  But Sasha loved her gallery and the pieces of art she housed there. There was no reason to live a life lacking in passion – and her passion lay in the blade.

  Sasha tossed her leather jacket over the back of her desk chair and slipped the knit cap from her hair – braided back today – then fired up her computer. She had a good two hours before she opened for the day and she was determined to make some headway on the legends. Reaching into her right drawer, she pulled out a granola bar from her stash and munched on her usual breakfast as her computer beeped about new emails.

  The jangling ring of the phone on her desk startled her, and Sasha held her hand to her heart for a moment, eying the phone suspiciously. It was mighty early in the day for a phone call at the gallery. Deciding
to ignore it and let it go to voicemail, she focused her eyes back on the screen.

  And when the caller hung up after several rings, Sasha smiled. She’d been right not to waste time talking to a wrong number.

  The phone rang again, and she raised an eyebrow at it.

  “Cloak and Dagger,” she answered primly, putting a hint of annoyance into her tone.

  “Sasha Flanagan?” A woman’s voice, bubbly and cheerful, chirped at her through the phone.

  “Yes, and who is this?” Sasha asked, her eyes trailing to the dagger lying next to her computer.

  Some might say she was paranoid.

  Sasha preferred the term ‘prepared.’

  “The name’s Bianca. I just wanted to check if you were in early. I must speak with you immediately,” Bianca said, her voice firm, but not overly urgent.

  “We don’t open until ten. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait. Is there a particular piece of weaponry you’re interested in?”

  Sasha tilted her head at the woman’s chuckle.

  “Seamus would be the first to tell you I’d best not be wielding too many weapons. Though I held my own, didn’t I?” Bianca seemed to be talking to someone else.

  “If you’re not interested in what my gallery sells, perhaps you can tell me what is so urgent that you must meet with me, then?” Sasha said, her voice dripping annoyance as she ran her finger over the jeweled hilt of the dagger, the light from the lamp on her desk reflected there.

  “I figured you’d want to know why fae keep trying to kill you. But by all means – if you’re too busy for that, Seamus and I will go get ourselves a full Irish over at Bee and Bun. They’ve got the best coff­–” Bianca trailed off as Sasha interrupted her.

  “Ten minutes.”

  “See ya soon!” Bianca chirped.

  Sasha stood, sliding the dagger into her pocket and pulling open another drawer. Adrenaline pumped lightly through her, along with a deep suspicion of the caller. It couldn’t be so easy to find out what she wanted to know.

  It never was.

  There was always a price to pay.