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“Take your time,” Nelson said, his voice flat. Tired.
Nox nodded in understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said simply, causing Nelson’s brows to jump. Nox patted Nelson’s side of the bed. “Please.” He batted his lashes hopefully and only had to hold his breath for a moment before Nelson pushed away from the door and crossed the room. There was a faint, weary groan as he lowered onto the bed, facing Nox.
“How long have you known?” He asked, his tone impatient and daring Nox to spin a tale.
“Always,” Nox mouthed and gestured for him to come closer. He was done hiding the truth from Nelson, but Nox was about to violate a sacred, ancient bond and shatter a heretofore unbreakable vow. And for the first time in centuries, if Nox had to guess. “We’ve always known—me, my dad, his dad, and his father before him—that we were…” He had to take a slow, steadying breath and waited for his pulse to settle. It was a frantic beat in his chest and his ears, but Nox owed Nelson the truth and his complete faith. “We’ve always known we were His descendants. But it was a secret that we never dared to breathe, even around each other, and we kept it for each other because… Are you familiar with Christianity?” He said, earning a chuckle from Nelson.
“I’ve heard of it.”
Nox widened his eyes at Nelson. “The Romans tried to wipe us out and the only way for our Tuath Dé to survive was to disappear and become mythology.”
“And Julian and the MacCrorys’ Tuath Dé isn’t part of your—?”
“No!” Nox was repulsed by the thought. “I’d know if I had my own cult and I’ve done my damndest to avoid it,” he said, gesturing wildly around them.
“That’s why you’ve been hunting them and trying to stop this,” Nelson realized.
“Yup,” Nox replied. “Whoever it is that’s calling himself the Dagda is a fraud and he’s exploiting and manipulating his followers into doing his bidding. Or, he thought he could become the Dagda if they sacrificed six brides to him during a hunter’s moon.”
“But it’s been you this whole time,” Nelson whispered. His brows pulled together and his eyes flickered as they searched Nox’s. “So…are you a god?”
“No!” Nox said loudly and bit down on his lips, reminding them that they had to be as quiet as possible. “I’m pretty sure I’d never need to do laundry and I’d never have bad breath if I was a god because I wouldn’t have a real body. I’d just astral project or arrive as a golden shower of light.” He gasped as he imagined it. “You’d never be able to resist me if I pulled a Zeus and turned myself into a swan.”
Nelson gave Nox an impatient look. “Flying better be one of your powers because I’m going to leave you here if you don’t start making sense. You couldn’t—just once—have given me a sign or a hint that this was real? That you were real.”
“But it isn’t real!” Nox protested, his whisper rising to a hiss. “Yet! I’ve been trying to shut this down since Merlin first told me about them.”
“I’m confused. Are you or aren’t you the Dagda? And does Merlin know you might be a god?” Nelson asked, earning a frustrated groan from Nox.
“No. Nobody else knows, not even Merlin.”
“Clancy?” Nelson said and Nox shook his head slowly.
“There’s no telling what Clance knows. Dad wouldn’t have broken the vow, but he made Clancy take some kind of oath when I was a baby. He’s always protected me and I’ve wondered if it’s because he suspected that I was…Him.”
“Because you are?” Nelson verified.
“No. I’m not Him but I could be. I told you, the Dagda was a god like Odin or Zeus and he had a…mortal vessel like the Dalai Lama. That person was the one—the highest, holiest cleric of the Tuath Dé. Like the Pope. I’d be that vessel, but my ancestors decided long ago that becoming mythology was preferable to seeing our people tortured and executed.”
“You did something in that field, though,” Nelson accused softly, his gaze tightening on Nox’s eyes as he waited for him to lie or deny it. “I know what I saw and I felt it.”
Nox nodded. “I can’t explain what happened. It’s like I was there, but I was watching us and everything was…muffled. I felt it, whatever that was, too. And it scares the hell out of me,” he admitted. He probably would have denied it before but now that Nelson knew and was no longer fuming, it felt good to finally tell him everything. “I’m sorry and I didn’t like hiding the truth from you, but we’ve never told anyone ever. It’s the first rule of Dagda Club,” he said, making Nelson snort.
“And the second rule?”
“Yup. When I was fourteen, my dad took me into the woods and we hiked for days before he whispered the truth to me in a cave in the middle of the night.” Nox held up his hand so Nelson could see the thick scar across his palm. “I swore that I’d never breathe a word of it to anyone else and that we’d never speak of it once we left the cave. We stayed in there for hours because once we left, I’d never be able to ask or even acknowledge the truth. It was meant to stay with us and we were always meant to be the last of our kind. We vowed that the Tuath Dé would remain a myth.”
“So you’d never have to face persecution again,” Nelson realized and Nox smiled.
“All that mattered was that the old ways survived and they did. We might not be one united cult or church, but how many people love the Earth and the moon? How many people fight for the rivers and the oceans? Our symbols are on tarot decks and we’re the smoke in the air when incense and smudge sticks are burned. Even the candles on the Catholics’ altars go back to the pagans and their druid clerics. We were the first to worship the flame and we burned our dead so they’d come back and guide us in the dark and warm our hands and our hearths.”
There were tears in Nelson’s eyes as he gathered Nox’s hand in his, restoring their connection. “That’s beautiful. I never understood how you could be an immature prick one minute, and ancient sage the next. But I guess you’re literally both.”
Nox shrugged. “That’s just one way my ancestors made peace with the dead, while they were forming their concept of an afterlife.”
“Do you believe or not?” Nelson asked, looking genuinely perplexed.
“Do I believe that my ancestors believed they were high druid priests who were one with nature and the spirit realm? Sure.” Nox nodded quickly. “My ancestors came over with the Pilgrims and before that, they were Separatists because what else would they be? They survived the Romans and the Middle Ages because they cast aside their druid titles and practices, but held onto their prominence within their communities. We MacIlwraiths have always been warriors, leaders, and teachers.”
