Earth's Hope Read Free Page B

enlighten me.”
    Bran shrugged. “Ye are used to getting your way. ’Tis interesting watching you grapple with compromise.”
    “Glad to provide entertainment,” Fionn gritted through clenched teeth. Bran’s words skirted dangerously close to the truth. Fionn was used to working alone, or with other Celts who tended to share his worldview. He hadn’t counted on this bunch of humans to have differing opinions.
    And did I think they’d bow and slaver and thank me for my wisdom? Fionn winced at his folly in expecting passivity.
    “This isn’t helpful,” a woman from the far side of the table said. “We have our difficulties too, but if we don’t work through them, we may as well hang out a white flag and tell the dark gods and those Lemurian bastards to come get us.” Red hair hung to her shoulders, and the skin around her clear, green eyes was pinched with concern. She wore faded green pants and a nondescript sweater with many patches.
    “You’re Corin, right?” Fionn asked. “Sorry to ask, but…”
    “Yes, I head those with the Mage gift.” She took a measured breath. “One of the problems here is you’re immortal. We’re not. It makes us cautious, since we don’t get do overs.”
    “Neither do we,” Bran drawled in his conciliatory voice. “We can be sorely injured, so much so we end up waiting out our immortality in the Dreaming. ’Tisn’t such an enviable position.”
    Corin frowned. “I’m sorry, I thought—”
    “So long as I’ve put my foot in it,” Fionn broke in, not wanting to go into the intricacies of Celtic immortality, “we never did go around the table for introductions. I’d asked for the leaders from each of the human magics. I recognize Daniel from Castle Balloch, but not the rest of you.”
    A stocky, blond man with deep green eyes nodded from across the table. He was dressed in tattered trousers and a plaid wool jacket. “As if any of us could forget the night we strung up that Hunter traitor, Travis. Damned shame about his civet, but we couldn’t salvage him, either.” Daniel thinned his lips into a disgusted line. “As I’m sure you guessed, I represent Seekers.”
    “Ye must be a Hunter,” Gwydion cut in, angling a glance at a tall, slender woman with long black hair and a tawny mountain lion curled up behind her chair. Black skirts pooled around her, and a teal tunic covered her upper body.
    “What tipped you off?” Her blue eyes shone with merriment.
    For one sour moment, Fionn considered mentioning that she and Bran would make quite a pair since they saw humor in a bleak situation, but he kept his thoughts to himself. As if the cat could read minds, it leveled its amber gaze his way and growled.
    “Surely ye have a name,” Fionn prodded.
    “The cat is Tabitha,” Bella quorked from her perch. “She said her human is named Eve.”
    The dark-haired woman shifted in her chair and laid a hand on her bond animal’s head. “Spilling secrets again, eh?” The cat growled a second time.
    “We waste time sparring.” The other occupant of the table spoke up. “I am Timothy, and I represent the Healers who are here.” Curly brown hair shot out from his head at odd angles, and his hazel eyes held warmth. He wore robes much like Gwydion’s, except his were black.
    “Where’s Aislinn?” Gwydion asked. “She was supposed to represent Seers.”
    “Not quite sure who that might be,” Corin muttered, “since she’s the only human I’ve ever known with that gift.”
    “Aislinn’s babysitting the dragons,” Fionn said. “They respond better to her than to anyone else, so she volunteered.” Rune, Aislinn’s bond wolf, had been far less anxious to take on the task, but she’d vetoed his request to hunt. Aislinn was Fionn’s mate. She’d be his wife if things ever slowed down enough for Gwydion to marry them. His heart swelled with affection and longing when he thought of her lush body and prickly disposition. Win, lose, or draw, she was his, sharp