Mortal Hearts
By Juli
December 1998
Part 3/9
For disclaimer and warnings, see Part 1.
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Somewhere, somehow, Derek was sure the gods were laughing at him. After their final tryst in the Edinburgh hotel room, he and Nick and taken their rental car and headed off to Glasmonadh. Nick's heart seemed to lighten with every kilometer they put the city behind them, convincing the Precept that he'd been right to plan this outing for them. Everything was fine for an hour or two, both men enjoying each other's company and talking of inconsequential things--the kind of conversation that seems to cement any relationship. But, as Nick's mood lightened, Derek found himself becoming more and more tense. Considering how he'd been truly intrigued at Dr. Williams' discovery, the Dutchman couldn't understand his own unease--especially since he'd had no visions to cause it. The Dutchman resolutely tried to put his own bad mood behind him, not wanting to spoil his lover's lighter spirits.
Then they arrived in Glasmonadh and Derek's misgivings intensified. The caretaker of the cottage Derek rented had provided excellent directions, but the Precept knew that they'd first need to stock up on supplies. Given that neither man had any intention of leaving the cottage--not to mention the promised featherbed--they had already decided to get basic foodstuffs that would allow them to minimize their trips into town. But when they pulled into the main part of the little village, Derek was struck by a feeling of menace. For the life of him, he couldn't figure it out.
The Precept glanced over at his American lover, to see if Nick had picked up on anything strange. The younger man had repeatedly tested as negative when it came to psychic abilities, but his military training gave him an astute feel for many potentially dangerous situations. Derek didn't know if he was relieved or worried when Nick showed the same edginess that he himself was feeling.
Shoulders tense, the former SEAL exited the car and turned his head side to side, obviously scanning the little village. It was a quaint town, the cobblestone streets and whitewashed walls hearkening back to another era. The businesses were mostly dark at this time of the early evening, but here or there a cheery light glowed in a window as if to welcome the travelers.
Finally, Nick turned his head to meet the older man's eyes. "This place looks like Connemara," he calmly observed.
Shit. Connemara, Ireland. The place where the San Francisco Legacy team had met Rachel and Kat Corrigan. The place where they'd first confronted the demon that had taken over the body of Shamus Bloom.
The place where Julia Walker had died.
Derek closed his eyes in pain and silently berated himself. Why hadn't he thought of this? Scotland wasn't Ireland, but the small villages in both countries had a lot of visual similarities. When he'd planned this side excursion for the two of them, he was thinking of the time they could spend together alone--of long mornings in bed that lingered into afternoons or cuddling together in front of a blazing fireplace. The last thing he'd wanted to do was remind Nick of his dead lover.
"Derek, it's all right." Nick reached his hand across the roof of their small, European car. His hand, when the Dutchman clasped it, was warm and held his lover's in a strong grip. "Julia's gone. Nothing's going to change that. We can't avoid places like this for the rest of our life--not in our line of work." The former SEAL tightened his grip. "Besides, we're not chasing a demon or looking for a sepulchre. Nothin' like that's going to happen to us here."
Derek shuddered as he found himself thinking that Nick's last assurance sounded a lot like "famous last words."
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At first, Nick had been utterly determined to not let the specter of Julia's death influence him about Glasmonadh. After reassuring Derek, the young man had led them to the local pub, trying to convince the Precept that quickly zoning in on the nearest drinking establishment was yet another skill taught by the SEALS. When the two men entered, the spirited conversations of the pub's patrons immediately ceased.
"It's a talent," Nick quipped to Derek, alluding to a similar response he'd received in a Connemara pub on that previous ill-fated trip.
The conversations around them had eventually resumed, but both men got the feeling that they were attracting undue interest. Glasmonadh was essentially a tourist town. Surely two more visitors wouldn't be that unusual? Yet the eyes of the locals had been on the two men the whole time, especially Nick. The couple ended up eating quickly and heading out to find their accommodations.
The cottage itself proved to be everything promised. Set a couple of miles or so on the outskirts of Glasmonadh, it was a nicely private little bungalow with a back garden that led off into the surrounding forest. Nick smirked a bit when he saw the picket fence, which almost made the cottage look a bit *too* quaint, but the young man was mollified by the presence of the promised featherbed.
In the afterglow of having taken the featherbed "out for a test drive," as Nick put it, Derek softly stroked Nick's back as the young man cuddled on his chest faded off into sleep. The Precept was exhausted and knew he'd soon join his lover in slumber, but at the moment his mind was turning over a concept. It had occurred to the Dutchman that he and his lover had been unusually......... active since arriving in Scotland. Derek started counting it up in his mind, and was surprised at the number of times they'd made love on this trip--as much as or even more than newlyweds. At the beginning of their relationship, Derek had been worried about keeping up with Nick. After all, he was on the far side of forty and his lover only in his mid-twenties. This trip, however, had proven that worry unfounded-- although if the two of them kept it up, they'd have a hard time walking by the time they got back to San Francisco. Derek was smiling as he drifted off to sleep--for a variety of reasons, but mostly because of the young man in his arms.
Despite their teasing about spending all of their time in the featherbed, early the next morning found the lovers drawn to the archeological site. The previous days of physical inactivity during the conference had been especially hard for the normally active Nick and the young man desperately needed to get outside and *move.* As usual, Derek found he couldn't deny the ex-SEAL anything and soon the two were tramping their way to Dr. Williams' discovery.
"What is it we're going to look at anyway?" Nick had been so entranced at the aspect of quality time alone with Derek--not to mention the luxurious distraction provided by the featherbed--that he'd never gotten around to asking what this glorious "find" was.
"A fairy ring," came the Precept's succinct answer. Although no athletic slouch, Derek was finding the hike along the deer trail a bit more difficult than his young lover.
"I don't get it--a piece of jewelry? Why leave that outside? Wouldn't it be better to move the ring to a museum where it'd be safe?"
Derek chuckled at Nick's assumption. "Not that kind of ring, Nick. A fairy ring is a circle of stones that the Sidhe use. Legend has it that they dance round them in the light of the summer moon."
"So all those ancient stone circles like Stonehenge are really fairy rings?"
"No, Druidic circles like Stonehenge are cut stone. The Sidhe prefer naturally occurring rock formations."
Nick looked askance at his lover's matter-of-fact tone. "Don't tell me you believe all this stuff?" The young man reached back to offer Derek a hand up over a fallen log.
"After all we've been through, Nick, how can you tell me you don't?"
Silently, Nick had to concede that the Precept had a point. Still, fairies and Sidhe? What was next, the Lucky Charms leprechaun?
By this time, the two men had reached the clearing described by Derek's old friend, Dr. Gloria Williams. The archaeological site was of interest to Dr. Williams because of her studies that linked physical landmarks to Scottish folk myths and Derek's work with the Legacy made him interested in any phenomenon that might conceivably lead to supernatural activity. Still, such a find was of little interest to the world at large and there was no need to set up any wards or guards to keep onlookers out. In fact, Gloria had reported that the locals were decidedly disinterested in the find and seemed to go out of their way to "brush it under the rug." Both Derek and his old friend found that behavior decidedly odd. In a tourist town such as Glasmonadh, any additional local color they could boast of like a fairy ring would draw added visitors--and their spending money. Like the pub customers' demeanor the night before, this just didn't seem to fit with what he knew of the local character, and Derek decided to keep a wary eye on the natives.
Fairy circle or not, it was a lovely spot. The ring was located about two yards away from a merrily bubbling stream, the soft chuckling of the water providing a pleasant background sound for the two men's explorations. The deer trail the two Legacy members had been following swerved deeper into the forest, but the area around the site was clear of trees. The ring itself was made of white, weathered stones placed in a perfectly round circle.
A pretty place, Nick thought to himself, but hardly worthy of Derek's enthusiasm. "Is this it?"
The Dutchman had entered the circle of stones and was standing perfectly still with his head thrown back. At the sound of Nick's voice, he turned to his lover. "Oh yes, can't you feel it?"
Nick joined him and tried to imitate the older man's technique, to no avail. "Nope, nothing."
Derek started to pace around the ring, occasionally pausing at a stone in order to inspect it. "It's like there's something waiting here.
Something ancient and profoundly...... earthy."
"Earthy?"
"Yes, the Sidhe are supposed to be immortal, Nick, or as close to it as makes no difference. Because they never age, they never change. They're much more tied to the earth's natural cycle than we modern humans are."
Nick had been observing his lover bending over checking the rocks. Watching the bigger man's backside clench and relax with each stoop, coupled with the excited flush this discovery had brought to the Dutchman's face, soon lead Nick's thoughts to his own favorite natural cycle.
The ex-SEAL approached his over from behind and wrapped his arm around Derek's waist. With their coats on, any subtle caress would go unfelt, so the young man contented himself with turning his whole body into one big caress. Moving sensuously up and down, the young man rubbed himself against the Dutchman.
"Earthy, huh?" Nick growled. "Earthy is good."
Derek's breath caught as his body twitched in reaction to Nick's undulations and the Precept clutched the smaller man's hands as they were clasped around his waist. As inviting as this offer was, Derek just couldn't get over the feeling that this was the wrong place for such activity. In fact, the Dutchman had the oddest sensation that they were being watched........
"Nick......." Derek turned around to face his lover. "Do you trust me?"
"Huh?" This was not the reaction the young man had been expecting, so his answer was a bit slow. "Um, yeah. You know I do."
"Do you trust me enough to believe me when I tell you that this isn't a safe place?"
Nick glanced around the peaceful circle of stones and wondered what the hell Derek was talking about. But his trust in his Precept caused him to take another look. At first all he noticed was the quiet setting, but then he realized it was too quiet: no birds chirping, no squirrels busy scrounging around for buried nuts, no rustling noises in the underbrush. Even the breeze seemed muffled. Granted, the wildlife would be a bit spooked by their presence, but the sounds of the forest should have returned by now. His amorous mood broken, Nick dropped his hands from around Derek and took a more watchful pose.
"Yeah, I believe you."
Derek looked into Nick's eyes to verify that the young man was now alert to possible danger--and that his lover hadn't taken the rejection personally. The trust there reassured him that Nick was and that he hadn't. The Dutchman was relieved. Legend had it that the Sidhe were not always a benevolent presence to humankind. Now that he was at the site, there was no doubt that there was some sort of power here. It would be best for the two of them to assess it and get safely away.
"Good." Derek dug out a notebook from a jacket pocket. "I'll make a sketch of the site, you stay on guard." Nick gave an abrupt nod and pulled out his ever- present gun. Although the Dutchman had surmised that the ex-SEAL had brought it along, seeing the weapon was still a painful reminder that their idyll was broken.
The honeymoon, so to speak, was over.
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Both men's nerves were shot by the time they returned to the cottage and they were surprised to find that it was still morning. Late morning, it was true, but morning nonetheless. Their time at the fairy ring had seemed much longer. Derek had made a quick survey of the Sidhe site, but other than his vague sense of foreboding, the Dutchman could discern no sign of supernatural activity. Both Legacy members were too experienced, however, to take such apparent dormancy at face value. Further investigation would have to be undertaken.
"What now, boss?" Nick asked as they entered the bungalow. The lovers had maintained silence on the trip back from the ring, as though afraid of unseen ears listening in on their plans. The former SEAL looked at the fireplace longingly. Scotland rarely got below freezing, even in winter, but the air was chilly enough to make the light rain falling seem icy. Still, there was no sense in laying in a fire until they knew what the next step was.
"I'll call William in London, they have the best collection of information about the Shining Ones." Nick grimaced and turned to hang his coat to dry. He'd come to respect William Sloan, but the man would never be high on his list of favorite people.
"Damn!" The Precept's unusual outburst interrupted Nick's thoughts and the American turned a questioning eye to his lover.
"The phones are out." Derek explained.
"Great, just what we need!"
Derek ran a hand through is already unruly hair, a gesture that usually meant he was exasperated. "Why don't you go start the car, we'll go into town and make a report on the phones." The Dutchman sighed at his own clumsiness and shook one of his feet. The Precept had stumbled into a puddle and gotten his feet wet. "I have to change shoes." He felt a sense of urgency and hated to waste a minute, but the last thing either or them needed at the moment was to catch a chill.
The older man was just finishing lacing up his boots when Nick stormed back into the cottage.
"It gets even better, the car won't start," the ex-SEAL announced.
"Do you have any idea why?"
Nick tossed the car keys onto the desk and started pacing. "It's not to hard to figure out. Kinda hard for a car to run when it's out of gas."
Derek's forehead creased as he frowned. "I didn't realize that we'd left the tank so low."
"*We* didn't!" Cars were one of Nick's passions and he was a little upset that Derek would imply that he would be careless. "Something's fishy here."
Recognizing that he'd given his lover an unintended slight, Derek worked fast to repair the damage. "Nick, there are any number of explanations. The fuel tank could have a leak. Or someone could have syphoned off the gas. Such petty crimes aren't unheard of, even in Scotland. As for the phones, well, this *is* a rather remote area. I imagine that the telephone service is rather unreliable."
Nick allowed himself to be convinced, but still couldn't help but feel that something was out of whack. As he and Derek started the two-mile hike into town, the ex- SEAL couldn't help but shake the idea that the phones being out and the car not working might be some sort of conspiracy. He didn't tell Derek of his feelings, however, sure that the older man would shrug them off as paranoia.
But just because you're paranoid doesn't mean that someone's *not* out to get you.
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