The Stolen: An American Faerie Tale (26 page)

“It looks as though I will have two wizards to dine upon this night,” Akhen said.

It dawned on Edward at that moment that his clenching muscles had kept him from dropping the sword. Clawing through the pain, he tried to seize control of his failing body. He forced his vision to clear. The room was a shadowy haze and dimming fast, but the circle was only a foot away, the crystal another two feet from that. He had only one chance.

Ignoring the pain, he drove the blade into the tentacle gripping him.

The sword passed through without resistance and the tentacle fell apart, releasing him. Edward sucked in a breath as he fell but was unable to move his hand. He landed on the blade, and half its length sank into him. A gasp escaped his lips as he felt warm fluid begin to spread over his chest and down his stomach.

Using nothing but willpower, he drew the sword out of himself and got to his knees. Sucking one last breath, he launched himself at the crystal, sword extended. Dante had told him that a circle protected against magic, but a mortal crossing over it would shatter it. He could feel it as he passed the edge, a soft but tangible tension that gave easily, like leaping through plastic wrap. The protections collapsed and the magic rushed out and dissipated.

Distantly, Edward heard Akhen scream in fury.

“Take that,” he said, or thought, he wasn't sure which, and renewed hurt tore at him as he swung the blade at the crystal. The end of the sword made contact, knocking the crystal hard to one side. It flew from the circle. He cringed when it smacked against the wall, but it didn't even crack.

Edward collapsed and struggled to draw in a breath that wouldn't come. His shirt was soaked with his blood, and it was getting worse, fast. The pounding of his heart was so loud it drowned out all the other sounds, and it was slowing. His head rolled to one side, and he saw the crystal restore itself, the melting reversing until it was whole once more. The lights moving inside the crystal slowed and dimmed.

“Insolent worm!” a new voice said from Akhen's mouth. “I will not be denied what was promised me!” Akhen threw his head back, and black smoke poured from his open mouth. The body collapsed to the ground, and the smoke coalesced into a massive form that was only remotely humanoid. Two familiar, burning red orbs floated in the smoke and shadow, staring at Edward. One massive hand of darkness reached over and grabbed him.

The sword slipped from Edward's grip as torment ripped through him anew. He could only weep from the overwhelming torture, and pray for it to end soon. The last things he saw were dried and twisted vines growing up and over the crystal. There was a strong odor of damp earth as both the vines and the crystal vanished in a flash of black flame. It had worked. It was done.

There was only darkness and a sense of weightlessness as Edward was hurled through the air. Glass and metal smashed into his back and gave way as he fell through it. For a second, he found peace and comfort, but the tranquility shattered as his back hit concrete. His head bounced as he rolled across the floor, and somewhere distant, he felt something break.

Then all was quiet, except for his fading heartbeat and a ringing in his ears. The darkness reached out for him, but it didn't matter, not anymore. He didn't fight it this time.

It's okay. I didn't tell her how I feel, but she knows. No regrets.

He smiled as he thought of Caitlin at last knowing his true feelings for her. “I love you, Caitlin,” he said, and allowed himself to sink into darkness.

“Edward!” Dante shouted, but his voice was very far away. “Hang in there, don't—­”

All was silent and black.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-­ONE

A
fter some time of struggling to follow Brendan down the trail, Caitlin realized the sun had never changed position in the sky. After noticing her trouble keeping up, Brendan shortened his long strides. That made it easier for her to keep pace, but she was still gasping for air.

“Here we are,” Brendan said, pointing to the side of a hill several hundred feet away.

Caitlin sighed in relief. As they approached, she was able to make out exactly what Brendan had been pointing at. A door was set into a large boulder in the hillside. The rock looked like black granite, and the door was made of a wood that hadn't aged well. Spiderwebs clung to the corner of the doorframe, and the metal ring used for a handle was a copper that had tarnished to green. The wood itself was warped and split.

“Rest for a bit before we go in,” Brendan said and sat down on a rock.

“Is it safe here?” Caitlin asked between breaths. “Isn't this Fergus's front door?”

“More like his front gate.” Brendan took off the pack. “He wouldn't set foot in the noon lands without good cause. Queen Teagan herself would have to make an appearance then.”

“She would?” Caitlin sat down on another rock and caught her breath.

“Aye, it's all about balance with fae.” He handed the last apple and half-­empty bag of trail mix to Caitlin. “You should eat. We won't have a chance once we're in the Dusk Lands.” He took out the last two bottles of water and handed one to her.

They ate in silence, Caitlin her apple and trail mix, Brendan his beef jerky. She glanced at him as she drank her water. The change in his demeanor had been subtle at first, but it was obvious now. He was nervous, clearly, but deeper inside she could tell he'd resolved something. She just hoped she was wrong about what it was. She couldn't let him give up hope.

“I do have reasons for not telling you about meself,” he said without looking at her.

“I'm sure. And it's none of my business.”

“You've no doubt figured that I'm not just another mortal.”

Caitlin could tell he was struggling with the words. “You don't owe me any explanations,” she said, her eyes focused on the ground. “After all you've done, I've no business asking anything else of you.”

“I'm just no use with ­people, you see?”

Caitlin felt her heart pound faster. She didn't want him to make a confession to her. If he did that, it would mean her suspicions were right and make his decision real.

“I wasn't cast out of the Fianna. It was an exile. I had to leave Ireland.”

A pang struck her. “Brendan, you can tell me this later, when all this is done.”

Brendan ignored her. “The fae were becoming more active in America, so I boarded a ship.”

“What about your family?”

“Me ma died in childbirth.”

The pain in his eyes was a familiar one.

“Me da,” he said. “Well, he was killed a long time ago, when I was just a lad.”

“Who raised you?”

“The other Fian,” he said. “They took me in. But when I got older, they saw that me ma and da had done something to make me, well, different. Special, they thought.” He sighed. “The Fianna didn't see it that way, so they sent me packing. Truth of it is, I don't know what I am.”

His voice was calm, and he said it all so matter-­of-­factly that her heart twisted even more. She must not have masked her reaction as well as she'd hoped, because he forced a slight smile to his face before continuing.

“It's not so bad, yeah. I met up with Dante not long after I got to Boston. He's annoying, to be sure, but a good sort through and through.” He chuckled, and a genuine smile came to his face. “He watched out for me like a brother.”

Caitlin's heart ached for him, and she wanted nothing more than to hold him, to give him the comfort he clearly hadn't had for a very long time. Comfort he probably denied himself intentionally. She wanted to but knew she couldn't. He probably wouldn't let her.

“The reason I'm telling you this,” he said, “is that things are like to get nasty in there. If it comes to it, getting Fiona out is all that matters.”

Caitlin swallowed and fought back tears as she nodded, hating that he'd actually said it out loud.

“If I tell you to go, you need to grab her and get the hell out. Right then, no questions, no arguments, and no hesitation.”

“But—­”

“You can't be worrying about me, love. You need to get Fiona and use that seeking stone.” He pointed at it. “Use it and don't look back. I'll do me best to give you a clear path.”

“Brendan, I—­”

“Damn it, Caitlin, would you just listen to what I'm saying for once? This isn't a fecking story. It's a lethal business we're getting into. I'm prepared to do what it takes, and you need to be as well. Your daughter is what matters. I can take care of meself.”

The lump in her throat prevented her from saying anything. Up until now, she'd managed to put off thinking about what this might cost. She'd planned to deal with that cost, whatever it was, once she got Fiona back, but now—­

“Look, love,” Brendan said, his voice softer. “I'm not eager for things to go
wojus,
but if they do, I need to know you'll get well clear. Aye?”

She didn't answer.

“Caitlin? Did you not hear me?”

“I heard you,” she whispered.

“You got it, then?”

She took a deep breath and nodded once.

“Say it. You need to say it.”

“I got it,” she said, the hint of a sob leaking through.

“Good.”

They sat in silence for several long, quiet moments.

Brendan stood up, put the empty bottle into the backpack, and pulled it on. “We need to get moving, then. We're almost done.”

“Wait.”

She threw her arms around him and held him tightly.

For a moment, he just stood there. She didn't care, she just held him: someone sure as hell should. At last, she felt his arms wrap around her and his chest move as he drew in a shuddering breath. A moment of peace, of comfort—­that was the least she could give him.

As she expected, he pulled away first, and this time she let him. His eyes told her all she needed to know.

“Let's just get going,” she said.

“Aye.” He cleared his throat. “Keep your wits about you. There isn't going to be a welcome mat there waiting for us.”

“I'm ready,” Caitlin said. “Let's get Fiona back and go home.”

Brendan pulled the door open. On the other side was impenetrable darkness. Brendan gave her a look over his shoulder, then stepped through and vanished into the black.

For that split second, she felt even more alone and more afraid than when he'd gone after the brownie. The idea of going through that door was terrifying, but leaving Fiona alone for one moment more was even scarier.

She made to step through when the images returned, clearer now, but very different. The onslaught sent her to her knees, her hands to her head. Whereas Caitlin had been an observer before, now she was the target of the torment. Beautiful and terrifying creatures danced around her, taunting and tormenting her. She could almost feel their disdainful touch as they brushed long, graceful fingers over her face.

“No!” Caitlin yelled.

The images more insistent, the creatures were laughing, and some leaned in with sharp teeth. As she felt them, or the chill ghosts of them, begin to devour her, Caitlin could feel someone watching her. When she looked up, not ten feet away stood the brownie. Only now, the brownie's child-­like face was swollen and bruised. Pink blood seeped from a split lip. Red hairs were held tight in the brownie's shaking hand. The images stuttered, but persisted.

“I'm sorry,” the brownie said as tears ran down her cheeks, glittering like tiny jewels. “They hurt me. They made me do it.”

Caitlin's brain fought back the images and phantom sensations, clinging to a sudden realization: it was a loophole, one Brendan hadn't considered. The brownie couldn't give the hair to the oíche, and they couldn't take it from her, but they could beat the little faerie until she used it against Caitlin.

“Please,” Caitlin said between gasps. “You can stop this.” She had the sense of cold fingers reaching into her stomach, passing through her flesh like it wasn't there.

“I can't,” the brownie said. “They made me promise. I'll go away if I break it.”

Caitlin winced. “You mean you'll die.”

The brownie nodded.

Caitlin struggled to keep her mind focused, but she was getting to her limit. She could feel her sanity slipping away. That's when she had an idea. It made her sick. Her very soul felt dirty, but she knew there was no other choice.

Caitlin swallowed the bile back. “If you let me see the hair, I can make it not work.”

The brownie looked confused. “Magic?”

“That's right,” Caitlin lied. “And it's a magic that the bad ones won't be able to sense, so they won't know.”

Tears rolled down the brownie's cheeks. “They'll be mad. They'll hurt me more.”

Caitlin forced sincerity into her words. “No, they won't. When they find out it doesn't work, they'll think Brendan or I did something. You won't be any use to them, and they'll let you go.”

The brownie considered it for several long seconds. “You promise?”

Caitlin smiled, working hard to make it genteel and not insane. “I promise.” She held out her hand. “Give me the hair.”

The brownie smiled. “Thank you.” She dropped the hair into Caitlin's hand.

The hair vanished in a flash of flame.

The images and sensations stopped instantly. It was nearly as jarring as when they'd started.

“No!” Convulsions started to wrack the brownie's tiny frame. “You lied.”

“I'm sorry,” Caitlin said through tears.

A blackness that reminded Caitlin of severe gangrene spread over the brownie's flesh, and she fell to the ground.

“Hurts, it hurts,” the little faerie said between sobs.

Caitlin couldn't speak. She reached to take the child-­like faerie into her arms. The brownie resisted, but Caitlin held her close, trying to offer comfort against the pain her lie had wrought.

After what seemed like an eternity, the faerie girl stopped moving and the little body vanished in a mist of gray filled with tiny yellow lights.

Once more, Caitlin was alone. She stared where the body had been and wiped tears away. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. She took a deep breath, letting the grief and guilt turn to rage. Those dark bastards had put her in this situation. They'd set her up and used an innocent fae to attack her. Caitlin rose and turned to the still open door.

“I'm done fumbling about in the darkness.”

Facing the blackness, Caitlin found she wasn't afraid of it anymore. She clenched her hands into fists and stepped through.