by E. E. Holmes
“And whoever she is can probably already count on a stack of these,” Milo said, gesturing to Savvy’s pledge.
“I wonder how many she’ll be able to count on when word gets out that Marion set Fiona’s mum on you like a rabid dog,” Savvy said grimly. “That’s not bound to sit well with a lot of folks.”
A timorous knock interrupted our conversation. We all froze, looking around at each other cautiously.
“Who is it?” I called.
“It’s Bertie,” came a tremulous voice from the other side of the door. Is Savannah there? Could I trouble her for a word? I must discuss the afternoon’s security plans with her.”
“Christ on a bike,” Savvy groaned. “He is unbelievable. What other Caomhnóir needs to review their schedule of activities five bloody times a day? Does Finn put you through this kind of nonsense?”
“Not anymore,” I said. “He’s mellowing out in his old age.”
“A mellow Caomhnóir? That’s an oxymoron, if ever I’ve heard one,” Milo snorted.
“I’ll see you all later, then,” Savvy said, and wrenched open the door. We caught a brief glimpse of Bertie’s pale, terrified face and a few seconds of glorious Cockney-accented tirade before the door slammed shut behind her.
§
For all my talk about Finn mellowing out, he was insistent that we attend the next day’s Airechtas session with a full complement of additional security. Before I could open my mouth to complain, Karen added that he had arranged it on her orders and it was a condition of continuing to attend the meetings.
“I stand by everything I said yesterday. I trust you both completely to handle yourselves in there. I just don’t trust anyone else,” she said, arms folded truculently across her chest.
Security inside the Grand Council Room had obviously been increased as well. There were almost twice as many Caomhnóir as the previous day, and we could hardly miss the fact that several of them were stationed in the area immediately surrounding our seats. I fully intended to complain about it when the meeting was called to order, but Hannah gave me a long warning look to keep my mouth shut. She had no interest in drawing any unnecessary attention to us today.
And for once, the Airechtas was exactly as boring as it was always meant to be. Celeste made a few remarks at the opening of the meeting, explaining that the matter of our attack was being handled by a committee of Trackers, and that no further outbursts would be tolerated. Marion was unusually quiet. In fact, the only really interesting moment of the meeting occurred when her clan was called to put forth a nominee.
“Clan Gonachd has chosen to abstain from putting forth a nominee for this seat,” she said smoothly before taking her seat and continuing to stare directly ahead of her, ignoring all of the muttering that had broken out around her.
Hannah gaped. “You’ve got to be kidding me! She concocts this elaborate plan to interfere with our nomination, and then she doesn’t even put forth someone else to run against us? This makes no sense!”
“It makes perfect sense,” Karen said, glaring at Marion through narrowed eyes. “She knows she’s being watched closely now that her role in your attack has been uncovered. Our clan isn’t the only one outraged by what happened to you, and she knows she’s lost a lot of credibility now.”
“Now?” Milo laughed incredulously. “You mean to imply she actually had any credibility left when she dragged her sorry, treasonous ass back in here?”
“With some people, sadly, yes,” Karen said. “But even those who remain loyal to her may want to distance themselves now. Remaining allies with Marion only makes sense if her power plays are successful.”
“So, you think she’s going to stay out of things now?” I asked, dubious.
“Not a chance,” Karen replied. “But I do think she’ll work behind the scenes. She’ll have asked another clan to put forth her choice, and she will be putting her considerable efforts behind that candidate to get her elected, whoever she may be, but she’ll do it quietly. At this point, Marion is as much of a liability as she is a powerful ally, and her little tribe is starting to realize it.”
In the end, though over a hundred clans were present, only five other candidates were put forth for the Council seat. The clans currently represented on the Council were not eligible to nominate anyone, though they could vote in the election. As Karen had predicted, none of the nominations came from the newer, unfamiliar clans, all seated toward the back of the Council Room. All five nominations came from the first few rows, where the oldest, most powerful clans held court. It seemed no one wanted to challenge their authority by creating more competition. The last of the five nominations was a woman named Diana McLennon. As she rose gracefully from her seat to accept the nomination on behalf of her clan, I recognized her as one of the women always drifting haughtily along in Marion’s wake, casting resentful looks at anyone who dared exist without her express permission.
“That’s her,” Karen said, cocking her head at Diana. “She’ll be the one to beat.”
Milo nudged Hannah in the ribs and winked at her. “Favorites are so predictable. Give me a dark horse any day.”
9
Facing Down Demons
“WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?” Hannah asked, looking up for the tenth time to see me checking the clock over her head on the mantle.
“Nothing,” I said. “Just keeping an eye on the time.”
My would-be casual tone did not fool her in the least. The meeting with Lucida was in fifteen minutes, and I felt like I’d swallowed a basket of angry snakes.
Hannah bent her head back over her notebook and began scribbling again.
“How is the speech going?” I asked, eager to talk about anything other than Lucida.
Hannah sighed, setting the pen down and looking pensive. Among the many things she’d learned at the meeting of nominees the previous afternoon was that each of them would be required to stand up in front of the entire assembly of the Airechtas and give a sort of campaign speech. It seemed like she’d spent every hour since either bent over a notebook or lost in deep contemplation. I’d done my best not to interrupt her, but I was too nervous in this moment to be left to my own devices.
“I’m not really sure. I feel like I’m rambling,” Hannah said, biting her lower lip. “But I just have so much I want to say. I think I’ll have to reorganize it all eventually, but for now, I’m just trying to get all the thoughts down onto the paper.”
“That seems like a good place to start,” I said. “I’m sure it will be great.”
“When it’s done, could I use you as a test audience?” she asked hesitantly.
“Of course!” I said, attempting a smile. “I’d love to hear it, when it’s ready.”
“I wish I had more time to work on it,” Hannah said, looking back down at the notebook and shaking her head. “Two days is not a lot of time to come up with a whole platform. I bet some of the other nominees have been working on theirs for months, if not years.”
“I’ve got faith in you,” I said. “You know what you want to change, and I think you’re the right person to do it. And I think the others will, too, once they’re given the chance to hear you speak.”
“Always assuming I don’t pass out when I get up there and see all those people staring at me,” Hannah said with a shiver.
“Well, yeah, I mean, trying to stay conscious is one of the basic tenets of public speaking,” I replied, winking at her. “But you’ve gotten up in front of your grad class for a presentation. This should be a piece of cake.”
Hannah threw her pen at me.
When I sat back up after ducking out of the way of the projectile, the last of the Lucida-free minutes had ticked by. I stood up.
“I’m going to head down now. I’ll see you when I’m done.”
In answer, Hannah closed her notebook and stood up.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m coming with you.”
“You bloody well are not!”
“I’ve been spending too much time with Savvy. It was bound to rub off on me eventually,” I snapped. “But in all seriousness, you are not coming with me.”
Hannah scowled fiercely at me. She looked so much like our mother in that moment that I took an involuntary step back from her.
“That is my decision, not yours,” Hannah said.
“Yes, I’m aware of that. I’m also aware that, just a few days ago, the very thought of Lucida reposing at the other end of the same room left you close to nervous collapse. What in the world would possess you to think you’d like to go have a cozy little chat with her?”
Hannah folded her arms across her chest, looking defiant. “I don’t want to have a cozy little chat with her. I want to be there to support you when you face her.”
“That’s very touching, Hannah, but I won’t have much chance to demand answers from Lucida if I’m too busy holding you together at the seams,” I said.
Even as I’d sat there the night before, telling her about the meeting with Lucida, I knew that I was probably going to regret it. Either she’d be so fearful of my going that she’d harass me endlessly to cancel it, or else, she’d pull something like this. But I could hardly make a decision like this and not tell Hannah. It was impossible— almost as impossible as not telling Finn.
“I’m going to support you, not the other way around!” Hannah said hotly.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair,” I said. “But seriously, Hannah, I’ll just be in mama bear mode the entire time if you’re there. It’s going to be hard enough to focus on what I need to do if I’m squandering all my energy on trying not to rip her hair out.”
Hannah’s face twitched as she suppressed a smile, then her shoulders sagged. “Okay, fine. I’ll stay here. But I need you to give her this for me.”
She held out a sealed envelope with Lucida’s name written on the front.
“What is this?” I asked warily.
“It’s everything I want to say to Lucida but I’ve been too nervous to say to her face,” Hannah said with a deep breath. “I’ve argued with myself since they brought her here about whether to go see her or not. This way, I don’t have to.”
“I’ll give it to her. I promise,” I said.
“Make sure she actually reads it!” Hannah called after me.
I looked back over my shoulder. “If I have to read it to her myself, I’ll make sure she knows what’s in here.”
As I reached toward the door handle, a crinkling sound near my feet made me look down. I had just trodden upon a small pile of envelopes that someone had shoved under the door.
“What are these?” I asked.
“What are what?” Hannah asked without looking up at me. She had picked up her notebook and returned to her speech.
“All these envelopes on the—” I stopped short as I spotted it: a wax seal, imprinted with a triskele, peeking out from under the top envelope. “Oh my God.”
Hannah looked up now, alarmed at the tone of my voice. “Jess? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s . . . I think we got more pledges.”
Hannah’s mouth fell open. “What?”
I reached down and scooped the envelopes up off the floor. There were four of them, each bearing a wax seal with the same triskele design pressed into it.
“See for yourself, but they look just like the one Savvy gave us,” I said, handing them to her.
Hannah opened each one in turn, her expression becoming more and more bewildered. “I can’t believe this. I don’t know any of these clans personally, do you?”
I read the names of them over her shoulder. “No, I don’t think so,” I said after a moment of racking my brain. “I think I remember hearing their names in the roll call, but it’s hard to keep track.”
“Look at this one,” she said, and read a note scrawled at the bottom of the formal letter. “’Your family has endured enough tragedy and deserves a voice again.’ And this one, ‘We don’t believe the Council has led us wisely during this tumultuous time and are eager to see what your voice can do to temper them.’”
I read a third aloud as she unfolded it, “‘We have been impressed with your actions throughout the Airechtas, choosing to help us even as certain Durupinen continued to vilify you. You have our wholehearted support.’ Hannah, this is . . . amazing! You haven’t even given your speech yet, and people are already supporting you!”
“I . . . I don’t think I ever expected anyone to actually vote for me,” Hannah said, almost in a whisper. She was staring down at the pledges as though they were precious jewels cradled in her hands.
“I don’t think I did either,” I said frankly, turning back toward the door. “That’s only five votes, though. We’ve got a long way to go, but it’s a start. Sorry, Hannah. I’ve got to go or I’ll be late. Don’t worry about me. Finn will be with me, so everything will be fine.”
Hannah barely nodded her head. She seemed not to really hear me. At least she was no longer insisting on coming with me. Deciding it was better to slip out while she was distracted, instead of taking the chance that she might change her mind again, I pulled open the door. Finn was already standing on the other side of it, waiting for me.
“There you are,” he said as I pulled the door shut behind me. “I was starting to think you might be getting cold feet.”
“My feet are roasty-toasty, thank you,” I said, sounding surlier than I intended in my anxiety. “Let’s get this over with.”
We strode along in silence. It wasn’t in Finn’s nature to appear relaxed almost ever, but he looked much calmer than I’d anticipated, given who we were going to see. When I’d told him what I meant to do, I couldn’t believe how calmly he’d taken it.
“Very well. I’ll arrange it with the Caomhnóir on duty,” he had said.
I’d blinked. “That’s . . . that’s it?”
“What’s it?”
“You aren’t going to freak out? Demand I cancel? Suggest that someone else could meet with her to answer my questions?” I suggested.
Finn had shrugged. “What would be the point? You’d just meet with her anyway. This way, I’ve got some modicum of control over the circumstances. It’s a far sight better than finding out about it after you’ve already done it without consulting me.”
And I had to admit that it was. I felt better, knowing that Finn had arranged all of the details of the meeting. I felt more secure, knowing he was fully briefed on the security measures that kept Lucida safely in her bed and incapable of wreaking her own personal brand of havoc on Fairhaven. He would be there with me, prepared for anything, and it was only that knowledge that made it possible for me to walk into that hospital wing and sit calmly down beside her bed.
Lucida was still in a light doze, and she did not rouse right away. Her eyes were sunken in her gaunt face and ringed with deep purple circles. Her collarbone stuck out unnaturally, and her fingers, resting on her stomach, were bulging at the knuckles. She looked so frail, so harmless, that I felt my fear of her melt away. Stung by her own treachery at last, Lucida was little more than a shell of our former nemesis. Just as this thought crossed my mind, her eyelids fluttered and opened.
“Well, well, well,” Lucida said, a suggestion of a smile flitting across her features. “I was right.”
I didn’t ask what she was right about. Doing so would feel like handing over the keys before we’d even gotten in the car, and I had no intention of letting Lucida drive this conversation off the nearest cliff.
Lucida seemed to decide that my silence was a request for clarification because she went on. “Cat told me that you’d never be down to see me while I was here. She said you’d want nothing to do with me. But I knew different.”
“Really? You knew? How omnipotent of you,” I said dryly.
“Oh, yeah,” Lucida said, with a spark of her old confidence, even
as her voice cracked and broke. “How could you resist? The traitor is on display in the hospital wing. It was only a matter of time.”
“Is that so?” I asked, taking a deep breath as I said it. There was no point in losing my temper, not yet. I needed information, and she had it. I needed to play nice, at least for the moment.
“That’s right,” Lucida said. “Cat thinks you’ve moved on from the events of the Prophecy, but I know different. I wasn’t sure of much when I woke up here, but I was sure that I’d see you before I left.”
“And why is that?” I asked blandly, knowing that she was going to tell me whether I asked her to or not.
“Because I’m sure that, until I showed up here, you thought you’d never see me again,” Lucida said. “You probably thought you’d missed your chance to say whatever it was you wanted to say to me. Surely, you’ve got a speech prepared, love.”
“No, I don’t,” I said, drawing deeply from a well of calm I didn’t know I had. “I’m not here to monologue by your bedside, however much I may want to give you a piece of my mind. And I’m not here to be a victim, yet again, of your mind games. I’ve wasted enough of my energy and feelings and thoughts on you. I’m here because I have questions about the Shattering, and once you’ve answered them, I fully intend to dedicate myself entirely to forgetting you’ve ever existed.”
Lucida raised an eyebrow. “And why should I answer any questions for you?”
I tilted my head to the side. “Oh, you mean other than the fact that you nearly destroyed the entire Durupinen sisterhood and would cheerfully have seen Hannah and me killed in the process? You’d like a reason besides that one? Because, I have to be honest, that one feels pretty legit to me.”
“The sisterhood has had it coming for centuries. I was just the last in a long line of Callers who was raked over the coals, poked and prodded and mistrusted because of how I was born. They got what they deserved, and nothing less,” Lucida said dismissively.
