Holes in the Veil

by Beth Overmyer

  Aidan knelt.

  She grinned a cruel grin. “Give me your blood, your heart, your body.” Glowing brighter still, she stood there and waited.

  Dread came over Aidan as he realized she meant to consume him. “Slaíne….”

  “Love?”

  He hesitated. “Love? How can you say ‘love’ when you mean to kill me?”

  A flicker of hurt momentarily marred her features. “But I want you.” She patted her heart. “In here.” Her hands tangled themselves in his hair and gave it a pull. “You have a beautiful heart, Aidan, and I desire it.” By his hair she tugged him to his feet. “I’ll try not to kill you, since that would make you unhappy.” She steadied Aidan without letting go. “Now, will you give yourself, or must I take?” Her left hand smoothed the wrinkles in his brow. “Aidan, I’ve been waiting over five hundred years for something so exquisite.” Apparently she could wait no longer. Her hand glowed blue as she plunged it into his chest, passing through skin without making an opening.

  Aidan staggered, but she caught him and drew out a faintly glowing orb the size of her fist. He gasped in shock and reached for it, but his hand passed right through. Bereft, he stood there as she cradled the orb for a moment before slipping it through the skin of her own chest, sighing in obvious bliss. Empty, Aidan shuddered and collapsed.

  But Slaíne was not through with him.

  She pulled Aidan to his feet and studied him for a moment, concern in her eyes as she said, “Well, this won’t do. You’re not substantial anymore. I can’t have a mate who won’t hold his own.”

  Aidan shuddered as she traced the skin whence she’d drawn his soul. “Empty,” he said miserably. “I’m so empty.”

  “I didn’t take it all, Aidan. You’d be dead without a soul.” Slaíne’s teeth flashed in a mischievous grin. “Kiss me.”

  What was left of Aidan’s own essence roared to life at the command. Weak though he was, Aidan took her into his arms and dipped his head, his lips meeting hers. Slaíne tasted of power, of the sweetest wine and the bitterest herb. Sky and earth were in that kiss. His life thrummed in her breast, and as she slipped her hand through his chest for a second time, Aidan thought she meant to consume him entirely. There was no fear in him, though, only want and need and something he could not name. The kiss faltered as molten iron pooled and settled in his chest. He couldn’t breathe or move. Pain he had never known seized Aidan, and he convulsed.

  “Shh,” Slaíne soothed, sounding more like her usual self as she removed her hand from his chest. “Aidan, focus on my voice.” Tenderly, she took his face in her still-glowing hands, though the light had dimmed somewhat. Slaíne held him to her breast as he dropped once again to his knees there in Nothingness. “Listen to my heart. Can you hear it? Try to imagine that heart beating in your own chest. Can you do that for me, my love?”

  Eyes screwed tightly shut, Aidan shook his head. He wanted to die. Right there and then, he needed the pain to end. The fire inside his chest would not let him. “Let me die,” he said as she continued to hold on to him.

  “Aidan, I can’t let you die. Here, it should be over in a moment. Just continue to listen to my heart.”

  He listened, listened as it slowed to a normal beating, with those two separate souls in her breast. Aidan tried to do as she had said, to imagine her heart beating in his own chest, but the pain spiked and his nails drew blood from the palms of his hands.

  “Focus,” she demanded. There was such pure command in her voice that he could not ignore or deny her.

  So Aidan focused as he never had before. Not only did he listen to her heartbeat, he imagined his heart was in her breast and hers was within his, and thought of hot blood pumping through them both, connecting them for the rest of their natural lives and perhaps beyond. The pain stuttered and dulled to something much more manageable. His heart rate slowed.

  Slaíne kissed the crown of his head. “It’s all right. It’s all right. Can you think about Existence again? Bring us outside of the cave, but beyond the chasm. Right where we left the Drifting Goblet. Can you do that, Aidan?”

  He did not wish to deny her, but he had never managed it before. “I’ve only ever managed to reemerge right where I disappeared from.”

  “You are not what you once were,” said she. “You listen to me, Aidan Ingledark. You are no mere Blest anymore. Focus.” Slaíne pulled him roughly to his feet and held him close. Though her head came below his chin, she felt much taller and less fragile than she had once seemed.

  Aidan held her as well and closed his eyes. The pain was now a dull throb, one he could think around as he attempted to return them to Existence. Normally, he would have to cause emotional and mental friction within himself in order to find his way back to the real world. This time was different. This time he could move and cause friction with his body. He brought his face down to hers, and they kissed as they never had before. Aidan harnessed the power he felt between them and used it to wrench them back to Existence, back to where the Drifting Goblet was waiting for them.

  When they landed back beyond the chasm, Aidan caught Slaíne before she could fall over the edge of the cliff. “We did it,” he cried, but she was unresponsive. Taking care not to jostle her, Aidan lowered her to the ground and rose, just as he became aware of the Pull of a massive man charging toward them. He had no time to think as he was grabbed around the waist and tossed over the giant’s shoulder. “What the devil…?”

  “No struggle. Find sister. Where is sister? Said she’d meet Quick here.”

  Aidan swore. “Who are you? Put me down, you giant. You’re going to trample Slaíne.”

  “Who Slaíne?”

  Aidan now became aware that two more Pulls were approaching, along with a strong repulsion. The scolding song of a furious bird filled the air as a tanned man carrying a goldfinch in an iron cage emerged from the mists. With a snap of the newcomer’s fingers, the mist evaporated.

  The giant dropped Aidan and went for the newcomer, swinging out with his meaty fists, only to be hit with a bolt of violet light, square in the chest. He stumbled for a moment, and with a flash, where there had stood the giant there was now a slight canary. Before it could fly away, the tanned man waved his hand, and an iron cage formed over the creature. It, too, began to tweet angrily.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to the first bird. “You’ll be human again soon, Jinn. I promise.” He turned to Aidan, as if asking for commiseration. Instead, he said, “Will you both come with me, or do I need to turn you both into birds?” He held up both cages for Aidan to see, a threat. “I’ll send Slaíne ahead, and you can take the Goblet. I’m not toying with that sort of magic.”

  Before Aidan could think or react, the strange man pointed a finger at Slaíne’s sleeping form, and she vanished in a flash of red light. “Slaíne!” Aidan shouted. He turned to look at the wizard. “What did you do to her?”

  “I’m Hex,” he said in answer. He waved the cages back and forth, and they, like Slaíne, disappeared in a flash of red light. “Your mate is all right, Aidan. She’s just resting––”

  “What? I know she was just resting until you—”

  “—in the east wing.”

  Confused and unbelieving, Aidan continued to stare at this Hex. “What are you talking about?”

  Again, Hex avoided his question. “You and the Goblet are going to have to go the usual way, I’m afraid.” He looked around and frowned. “There’s just the Drifting Goblet? Where is the Questing Goblet?”

  Stupidly, Aidan blurted out, “There is no Questing Goblet, you great idiot.” He shook himself. “Bring her back right now.”

  Hex’s expression darkened. “Cedric’s still alive?” He ran a hand over his naked jaw, eyes out of focus. “Well, that is a problem. But first, tea, I think.” Out of his pocket he pulled a doorknob, which he turned in midair to reveal an empty white hall. Hex motioned to the
Goblet. “Fetch that.”

  Aidan took the Goblet and then, not wanting to lose his one connection to Slaíne, followed the wizard down the long hall. With a great creak, an invisible door shut behind them, and Aidan swallowed his panic.

  The way was narrow and bright. More than once, it narrowed farther still, forcing both men to turn and walk sideways.

  The wizard named Hex did not speak to Aidan at first. He kept muttering to himself about curses and wizards, and more than once stopped mid-step, causing his guest by force to nearly run into him. After a while, Aidan grew weary of the way and said, “Where are we going, and what have you done with Slaíne?”

  “We’re almost there,” Hex replied. “You can’t magic a Goblet Immortal, as you probably well know, Aidan. We have to bring it on foot.” Again he stopped, this time putting up a hand for Aidan to do likewise.

  “That brings me to another point,” Aidan said as the wizard pulled the same doorknob out of nowhere again. “How do you know who I am? Who Slaíne is?”

  Hex turned and studied Aidan for a moment with frightening intensity. At last he said, “I have known Slaíne since she was young – or rather, I used to know her.” It might have been a trick of the light or Aidan’s imagination, but the wizard seemed uneasy about something. “And I know you because I’ve had you followed.”

  Aidan’s fists clenched as things began to fall into place in his mind. “Oh? The shape-shifter was yours?”

  The wizard held up a finger. “Save your anger for later, Aidan. I need to focus on what to do now that there is no sixth Goblet, and I can’t have someone trying to kill me in my own home. It would be…messy. Can you do that for me? Wait to avenge yourself or whatever it is you are planning to do?” Before Aidan could answer, Hex stopped and turned the doorknob, again in midair. Another invisible door creaked open, and he led Aidan into a foyer the size of Aidan’s property back in Breckstone. “This is Vät Vanlud. You are very welcome, sir.”

  “Where is she?” Aidan again demanded.

  Hex sighed, grabbed a torch from a sconce on the wall next to where they had emerged, and led Aidan down a winding corridor with stone floors and colorful tapestries. “You need to be careful. Slaíne is not what you think she is.” He paused, turned, and looked at Aidan again. “You’re not what you think you are.” With those ominous words, the wizard turned down another corridor, which dead-ended at an ornate dark wood door. Hex stood back and motioned toward the place. “She should be awake…for now. The change is hard, I’m sure.” He handed the torch to Aidan. “A word first. I know you’re impatient.”

  It was an understatement, for certain. Aidan knew himself to be at the point of performing violence, and on a wizard, nonetheless. “Talk.”

  “There are five Goblets Immortal. All Blest are products of them.” He pointed to the door. “She is not among them.”

  A tremor ran up Aidan’s spine. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  The wizard shook his head. “Her curse is broken, Aidan. Be – be very careful.” His shoulders heaved. “There’s a reason she had a curse put on her in the first place. It kept things in check, and in balance.”

  Aidan’s eyes narrowed. “And who put the curse on her?”

  Hex shook his head. “That is another story for another time. On you get.”

  Wary but anxious to make certain Slaíne was all right, Aidan unlatched the door and stepped inside. The large room was dim until he entered, the light dancing on the walls as he placed the torch in a sconce next to the doorway. Feeling eyes on the back of his neck, Aidan turned and was startled to find the wizard staring at him.

  The wizard nodded, and the door shut behind him and was re-bolted.

  Aidan remained standing there, staring at an enormous bed. At first he could not see Slaíne for all the blankets. She lay on the far right side facing a covered window. “Slaíne?” he asked, taking a few tentative steps before stopping.

  The drapes flew open, letting in light from a barred window. Slaíne swore, and Aidan knew that she was all right. “Where am I?” she asked, her voice thick and panicked. “How’d I get here?”

  “I’m not sure how exactly either of us arrived here,” said Aidan, moving toward her. “And I don’t know exactly where we are, but I think we’re safe…at least, for now.”

  Slaíne sat up and looked at him, before collapsing back onto the mattress. “So tired.”

  Aidan knew the feeling. He felt as though he could sleep for a year, and his knees nearly gave way as he closed the gap between them. “Are you all right?” He ran a hand through her hair, and she closed her eyes.

  “I think so.” She sounded her normal self again, and everything that had happened in Nothingness seemed like a distant dream. The mattress dipped as he sat down next to her. “Where’s the Questing Goblet? Did we get it?” Her eyes opened a crack before closing once again. “Blast, but I can scarce stay awake.”

  Aidan let out a deep breath. “There is no Questing Goblet, remember?” When she made no immediate response, he continued. “Cedric’s alive and has been hiding in his own ‘tomb’ for some time, apparently.” The weight of the situation pressed on Aidan. What were they to do next, especially now that they found themselves captives of a wizard? Defeating Meraude felt as far away as if they had just begun their quest, and his parents were nowhere closer to being avenged. Instead of voicing his many concerns, Aidan returned his attention to Slaíne and said, “Let’s discuss things later. We’ll wait until you’ve regained your strength before we make our next move.”

  “Mm,” she agreed.

  He took her small hand in his and rubbed her palm with his thumb. “What happened in Nothingness? That wasn’t real, was it?” Aidan waited, watching her carefully.

  Slowly, Slaíne’s face took on a glow and she gave his hand a weak squeeze. “I dunno. Feels like it might’ve been real.”

  Aidan had been afraid of that. Something deep in his chest thrummed in time to Slaíne’s slow breathing, and he wondered if anything would be quite the same again. But when he looked into those gray eyes, which fluttered open for a brief moment, he knew once and for all that he had found what he had lost more than twenty years ago: home.

  Epilogue

  Meraude

  Three Goblets sat on a wall: Sight, Enduring, and a regular drinking vessel. Their mistress glared at them. Her anger she reserved for injustice, not dull moments such as the present. No, this was no mere prick of irritation she felt. The mage knew herself well, and knew herself to be restless and impatient. She and her army.

  About this book

  This is a FLAME TREE PRESS BOOK

  Text copyright © 2021 Beth Overmyer

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  FLAME TREE PRESS, 6 Melbray Mews, London, SW6 3NS, UK, flametreepress.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Thanks to the Flame Tree Press team, including: Taylor Bentley, Frances Bodiam, Federica Ciaravella, Don D’Auria, Chris Herbert, Josie Karani, Molly Rosevear, Mike Spender, Cat Taylor, Maria Tissot, Nick Wells, Gillian Whitaker. The cover is created by Flame Tree Studio with thanks to Nik Keevil and Shutterstock.com.

  FLAME TREE PRESS is an imprint of Flame Tree Publishing Ltd. flametreepublishing.com. A copy of the CIP data for this book is available from the British Library and the Library of Congress.

  HB ISBN: 978-1-78758-583-6 • US PB ISBN: 978-1-78758-581-2


  UK PB ISBN: 978-1-78758-582-9 • ebook ISBN: 978-1-78758-584-3

  Created in London and New York

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  Flame Tree Press is the trade fiction imprint of Flame Tree Publishing, focusing on excellent writing in horror and the supernatural, crime and mystery, science fiction and fantasy. Our aim is to explore beyond the boundaries of the everyday, with tales from both award-winning authors and original voices.

  The First book in this series by Beth Overmyer is The Goblets Immortal

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