Row is grim as we drive to the final address we tracked down for the Aeos that sent the spell-casted Tarot card to Mama Lisette.

We’ve wasted three days here in Ireland trying to find the Aeos. The wily fallen god had delivered the hexed card through a chain of a people before it left the Emerald Isle and he’d certainly led us on a merry fucking chase. We ended up in Kivanra Cinn Mhara, a charming village on the coast of southwest Ireland, and damn if I didn’t want to spend time exploring it. But we had no time because we were on a mission and the devil, or at least the La Tieur, are on our heels.

The last person we’d contacted refused to confirm the name we sussed out to this point, Leander.

Just, Leander. No last name. How very Cher of him.

The man before me, Seamus McLachlan, was the last person in possession of the card before the Aeos. He scowls at my question.

“Why should I tell ‘ya, lass. That one is trouble all around, and you best stay away.”

“I wouldn’t come all the way from America if it wasn’t important. Lives are on the line.”

Seamus scoffs and retreats into his cottage. I look to Reina, “Now what?”

“Let me try.” Reina pushes through the door and talks to the old man. Minutes later she exits waving a piece of paper triumphantly before Row scowls at her.

“How exactly did you get that?”

“Oh for crying out loud,” Reina throws her head back, “I didn’t have enough time blow him for it , Row, if that’s what you’re implying. You should know that better than anyone.”

“What did he say?” I ask.

“Do a good deed,” she grouses as we get back into the car.

“I’m not so sure about this.” Row frowns. “Everyone we’ve talked to has been skittish, afraid even, of this Aeos. He's dangerous. Remember Lil’ Patti’s hand?”

“I think you’re right. We should drop Reina off at the guest house first.”

“Oh no you don’t, bitch! You are not leaving me behind.”

“And I won’t leave her unguarded.” Row adds.

“Fine,” I huff. “We’ll all go.”

* * *

The countryside in Ireland seems barren punctuated with large stretches of lonely land tufted with wild green grasses bound by long stones walls that go everywhere and nowhere. When we pull up to the GPS’d address we obtained, we find a broken down church staring out over the sea. The atmosphere is sad and desolate as if anything that lived here held on to the edge of life. Barely.

Reina shivers as the wind whips through us, mirroring my feelings. Who would live in this place?

A peeved-as-hell fallen god who lost everything, apparently.

“You stay here,” I point at Reina.

“No way, girlfriend. I told you. I go where you go.”

I shake my head. This is not negotiable. “No. Whatever he or she is, this Aeos has shown us it’s dangerous. And Row, stay with her.”

“No,” says Row stubbornly.

“Look, take care of my best friend, or, or I’ll—” What threat I could make that didn’t make me seem like an idiot?

Row shakes his head, and I can't tell if I ticked him off or made him laugh secretly. He did, however, pull out a plain paper bag with something long and heavy in it.

“You can’t approach an old being without an offering,” he explains.

“Is that where you went when we checked in to the guest house?” Reina asks.

“Yes. I thought it was best to prepare for the encounter.”

I reach in and draw out a bottle of Jameson whiskey. Reina whistles in appreciation.“That’s a five hundred dollar bottle.”

“Yes. It was the most expensive bottle the village shop had. I hope it will do. It’s a pity they didn’t have a bottle of Teeling.”

“What’s that?” She stares at Row with a new appreciation, as if he was the most sophisticated man she’s ever met.

“A whiskey that sells for about eighteen hundred dollars a pop.”

“A five hundred dollar bottle darn well better do.” I say, “Well, here goes nothing.”

“Aura,” Row holds out a hand, stopping me in my tracks.

“Yes?”

“Don’t promise him anything. These ancients live to extract impossible promises for what you want. It’s a dangerous game that few of their victims win.”

I nod my head, but I wonder at the same time if I will fall prey to a creature that watched the dawn of mankind. He has to be a brilliant, kicking around for as long as he has.

And I’m walking into his den. The thought does not comfort me.

I put my game face on, but I’m as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. What could an ageless, fallen god could do to a newbie vampire? It didn’t matter, because I am strong, proud, and a vampire queen, damn it. It’s about time I act like it.

My feet kick among the cracked cobbles and tufts of grass that litter the pathway leading to the church. The door hangs off a broken hinge, leaving the building open to anyone who wants to enter. I scoot through the opening and look around. The roof has fallen in, leaving the top of the building open to the elements. There are no pews, and panes of glass no longer grace the window openings. A lone stone altar rises at the back of the space sitting under a circle that must have held at one time a magnificent window. Pigeons fly from rafter to rafter. I shake my head as doubt creeps in. We must have the wrong place. No one lives here.

I turn to leave, more defeated than I was yesterday, when I hear a thin, reedy voice.

“Why are you leaving?”

Whipping around, I spot a tall man, thin and gaunt, rising from behind the altar. His hair is silver, not white or grey, but actual silver and a pale purple shimmers through it. The Aeos' torn and faded shirt and pants barely cover his lean frame.

“Are you Leander?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Is there a reason I should answer you?”

“If you are Leander, I brought you a present.”

“Let me see.”

I pull the Jameson from the paper bag and twist it so he can see the label. “It’s the best the village liquor shop had.”

“Ah, I see. Spirits for an old spirit?”

“Is that what you are? A spirit? I heard you were a god.”

He scoffs loudly. “I haven’t been a god since shortly after mankind walked the Earth. It seems I acted badly. But that’s old news. Why are you here?”

“To talk to you.”

“And why would I talk to you?”

I shrug. “Why wouldn’t you? Unless, of course, you don’t want the whiskey.”

Once again I turn away hoping the promise of the golden liquor would sway an older than dirt ancient being to spill his guts to me. I wasn’t far wrong.

“Bring it here, wench,” he snarls.

I arch my eyebrows when I face him again. “I don’t know if you are up on current events, but we don’t call women wenches anymore.”

“A woman?” he scoffs. “You are girl-child who pretends to be a woman.” He sniffs the air. “But you aren’t even that are you? Vampire? No, not just that.” He takes in another long breath. “Kresova,” he sneers, and his eyes narrow. “Newly turned. The stench of humanity still clings to you.”

How charming. I walk closer to him slowly, and I notice he keeps his gaze on the liquor in my hand, not me.

“We have a mutual friend in common. Mama Lisette.”

“Ah! You are the Dria, aren’t you?” His eyes travel up and down my body. “What’s so special about you to be a new Vampire Queen?”

I stop at the altar and put the bottle on the stone slab that makes the top, but I don’t take my hand off it. No way would I hand it over until I get what I want from Leander. But I shrug just the same.

“Damned if I know. One day I’m an All-American girl, working a shitty job and struggling to pay the bills. The next I’m sucking blood with the rest of them. Maybe you have the skinny. I’m willing to bet you do, seeing you’ve been around longer than me.”

“Why should I talk to a Kresova vampire?”

“As the saying goes, you can pick your nose, but not your family.”

Incredibly, the Aeos guffaws, though the noise is a screech that sends the pigeons flying about their roost nervously. Then he stares at me so intensely I swear he’s peering into my soul.

“So, you are not one of those who wanted to be a vampire? You didn’t throw away your humanity for the vain promise of immortality?”

“I’m just rolling with what life handed me. You know? Lemons and lemonade.”

He mutters then, and I think I might have used one cultural reference too many.

“You are all crazy. Go.” He makes a shooing motion with his hands.

“Okay, but I’m taking Mr. Jameson with me.”

“I should strike you down where you stand,” he growls.

“You did a good job on Lil’ Patti, that’s for sure. But somehow I think you are a cranky enough old bastard that if you could, you would have already. I think there is a reason why you don’t hurt supernatural creatures like me. And there is a reason you sent Mama Lisette that Tarot card. You wanted me to come here.”

He mutters in a language I don’t understand. It sounds ancient with unnatural twists of the tongue, and his eyes burn with an eerie light that gives me one impression.

Crazy eyes.

I twist the cap off the whiskey and set it close to him. The aroma fills the space, and a dreamy expression comes over the silver-haired Aeos. He picks up the cap and sniffs it. I’m not sure why he can’t simply walk into the local store and buy a bottle himself, but I won’t argue with the advantages I get.

“Ah,” he mewls. “Nectar of the gods. Fruit of the field transformed. Of all the creations of the Universe, mankind crafted this one, perfect thing.” He licks his lips as longing fills his eyes.

I’m getting the heevie jeebies watching Leander wax poetic about whiskey. Sure, it’s tasty, especially when you want something to burn through you and carry you away to a special place where nothing matters. But this guy has it bad. I’d bet I know why he’s a fallen god.

Yeah. Not a pretty picture.

His eyes catch mine and I spot a burning desire for the liquor in my hand. I’m in more danger than I thought. I need information from him, and he’s ready to devour me for the Jameson.

“Look, I’ll make this easy. Tell me how I can destroy the ring that Morana has—the Ring of Brigit.”

“Brigit!” he wails. “Don’t talk to me about that royal bitch.”

He’s shaking now, and I’m afraid he’s going to pull me apart. Maybe he can’t use magic on me, but I’ll lay money down that he’s stronger than he looks and can tear my head off my shoulders.

Yeah. I'd piss Carver off if I let that happen.

“Leander!” I snap sharply. “Look!” I tip the bottle over and let a quarter of the whiskey spill on the altar. He screams and then scrambles onto the altar and licks at the alcohol like a cat scarfing cream.

I step away, horrified at the debauchery of a once grand being doing whatever it takes to get his fix.

He laps the liquor quickly and then collapses on the altar whining like a hurt dog. I’ve never felt sorrier for anyone in my entire life.

“Leander,” I mutter softly.

He sits up in a bolt and folds his legs under him as if ready to meditate.

“What?” His tone is angry, almost petulant like a child who knows they don’t have the upper hand in the situation. His eyes go to the liquor in my hand, and I wonder why he doesn’t yank it from me. But an idea comes into my head that this is how it is with gods.

They can’t take what isn’t offered, and this is the power their followers hold over them.

But what do you do if you are a god and you have no followers? You hang out on a piece of once holy ground and feel sorry as hell for yourself. Drinking yourself into oblivion.

“What can I do to help you?”

“You? Help me?” he says bitterly. “Wench, you better be ready to help yourself for the shitestorm coming your way.”

“Okay,” I rub my forehead. “That’s a little harsh. My life is running brown water right now. But I’m trying to turn it right. And if you weren’t such a cranky bastard, you might be able to help me. I tell you what? If I arrange for a weekly shipment of whiskey to this address, would that persuade you to give up your intel? After all, you wanted me here. So what’s it going to be? Me walking away with this lovely bottle of nectar? Or you tell me what you brought me here to learn?”

“Perhaps I just wanted to see your face when I denied you.”

“Well, I guess I should go then--”

“No.”

He gives me a glance that could curdle milk, and I understood where the old stories of fae doing so came from. But in my case, he eyes the opened bottle in my hand greedily and nods slowly.

“Every week?” he confirms.

“Yep. I’ll make sure of it.”

He sighs, and the timbre of his voice lowers. “To destroy that ring, you have to remove the two blessings on it that shield it from harm. Then you can destroy it with a hot blacksmith hammer.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “And I do this how?”

“Don’t you know how to remove a spell?” he asks derisively.

I shake my head. “All-American girl here. Never messed in magic.”

He snorts. “And you are a vampire queen now? That’s a joke on us, isn’t it?”

“Mr. Jameson, or not?” I say narrowing my eyes. I’m losing patience with the immortal jackass.

“There are different ways, but this one will work best. First, you light a white candle. Then you take the ring and put it in a black bowl and pour spring water on it. When you've done that speak this spell over it three times. ‘I snuff the magic that enlivens you; I drown the light that fills you, I cast out the power within you.’”

“That’s it?”

“Then you can beat it to crap with the red-hot hammer and part of your troubles will be over.”

“I swear, if I find out you are yanking my chain, you are going to be one thirsty Aeos.”

“I have my own reasons for wanting Morana gone. The spell will work.”

“Okay, but where do we find it?”

“Find it? You haven’t figured that out?” He laughs harshly. “Morana wears it always, on a chain around her neck.”

I groan. Of course she does. To get the ring we’ll have to get up close and personal with the bitch queen. Could my day get any better?

But I’m a woman of my word. I set the bottle with a clink on the stone altar.

“Thanks, Leander,” I say. “I’ve places to go.”

He takes a long pull of the whiskey and then leers at me.

“Want to make this a party?”

Unbelievable. Just how many vices was this crazy Aeos slave to? If Brigit made the call to earth bind him, she made a good one.

“Sorry, dude. I’m full up in the party department.”

“Well, don’t forget the shipments.”

“First thing on my to-do list. Bye.”

I walk away with dread clinging to my frame. I’ve seen this guy half-crazy to get a drink in him, but I still don’t want to be around when he’s full-on drunk. An immortal being swimming in alcohol is not good for no ones' health and well being. What monster did I create here today?

“Oh, yeah?” he calls as I got to the door. “One other thing.”

I don’t want to, but I turn toward him.“What?”

“About the vampire you call Abe?”

“Yeah?” I ask cautiously.

“When you get to the village pick up the Irish travel magazine. I forget what’s it’s called. But there is an article there you’ll want to see.”

I think he’s half in the bag already and delusional, but I humor him anyway.

“Thanks for the info.” I give him a small nod and keep an eye on him over my shoulder.

Leander grimaces. “You are all loonier than fae under the influence of buttercup pollen. Get thee gone now, if you don’t want to party, and leave me to my good friend here.”