Shadow Girl

by Kate Ristau

“No ‘but.’ I’m not arguing this. If you don’t want to go because you don’t want to, that’s fine. But don’t stay here just because you think you’re in the way. Or you think we don’t need you.”

  Hennessy nodded her head, as if she was going to say something, but then she gestured to the glasses. “I’m drunk,” she said. “Or at least I’m going to be.”

  “We’ll deal with that when we get there.” With a smile, Áine pulled her to her feet and laughed. “Cra, you are such a human sometimes.”

  Hennessy gave an exaggerated bow. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

  “I’m not sure if it is one.”

  Hennessy threw a couple of pieces of paper on the bar and turned toward Áine. Her cheeks were red. She ran her fingers through her ragged black hair. “Um... listen... about the car...I shouldn’t have...I didn’t mean...I know he matters to you, and I know you don’t want to be with me like that—”

  “Hennessy, stop. If we could...if this was something that we could do right now...Things would be different. Everything would be different.”

  “You deserve better than that. You deserve better than me.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re one of the best people I’ve ever known, one of the most genuine and caring. You have to stop acting like you’re not good enough, measuring yourself up to some impossible standard that the Fairy Queene herself would declare ludicrous.”

  “So, she’s real sexy then?”

  The unexpected question made Áine laugh. “You know, I couldn’t tell you. I’ve never seen her. In all the pictures, she’s real perfect. But she’s so power hungry, it’s kinda gross.”

  “You’re crazy. Power is sexy. Barack Obama. Toiréasa Ferris. You think people like Prince Harry because he’s hot? Nope. It’s because he’s powerful. And rich.”

  “I don’t know who any of those people are.”

  “Hold on. I’ll show you some pics on my iPhone.”

  Sixteen

  When they got back to the car, Ciaran was sitting in the driver’s seat, entranced.

  “You shouldn’t be reading that, you know?” Hennessy said. “Áine said it’s full of crazy stuff.”

  “It is,” Ciaran said, and tossed it to Hennessy. “Check it out.”

  “No way,” Hennessy said. “I’m driving.”

  “You need a break,” Ciaran said. “And I’m getting good at this.”

  “Just because we haven’t died yet doesn’t mean you’re getting good at this. I’ve had years of practice. And you don’t have any insurance. You should let me drive.”

  “It’s my car,” Ciaran said.

  “No,” Áine said as she slid into the front seat. “I’m pretty sure it isn’t. Where exactly did you get this car?”

  “Where exactly did your da get the stuff in that book?”

  “You’re changing the subject,” Hennessy said as she got into the backseat.

  Ciaran started the car up again. “I am. Your da was into some really weird stuff. I mean, it makes sense when he starts out; he’s looking for you, asking questions. But it slowly turns into something else. You can feel his mind breaking a little bit more with every page.”

  “I know,” Áine said. “It’s the Shadowmagic. There were wards all over his house. He was stretched so thin, and this darkness surrounded him that shouldn’t have been there. I think he tried a lot of things over the years, not knowing what it could really do to him.”

  “He was pretty far gone,” Hennessy said.

  “I don’t think it’s just the Shadowmagic,” Ciaran said as they pulled back onto the road. “There’s something more elemental here. The magic doesn’t seem to rely on words; it’s a way of thinking. Toward the end he’s not even writing down spells or the old language—he’s just drawing pictures and talking about energies and powers.”

  “Maybe that’s what Creed has been doing,” Hennessy said. “He doesn’t say any words like Áine does. And he doesn’t have creepy shadows dancing around him either. He just gestures and smiles and—kills.” She paused for a moment and then continued, “I think Ciaran’s right. I think we should use it.”

  “No!”

  “Why not?” Hennessy said. “What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is the power of Shadowmagic,” Áine said. “Think about it. It relies on energies, on pulling away the darkness from the light.”

  “Whatever,” Hennessy said. “That sounds exactly like what you’re doing.”

  “It’s nothing like the Aethernoe,” Áine said. “It’s so much more dangerous. The Aethernoe simply shifts the powers of the natural world: Nothing lost, nothing gained. When I call the Eta, the Eta have to come from somewhere. That’s the nature of the Aethernoe. We call to the Eta; we beg them to listen...”

  “And sometimes they do,” Ciaran said.

  “But the Shadowmagic destroys you,” Áine said. “It kills the Eta. Hennessy, think about it. Your world. We call it the Shadowlands, right? It wasn’t always this way.” Áine gestured to the dark night as they drove under a long line of trees. “Aunt Eri says it used to be like the Aetherlands. No shadows—only light.” Áine stumbled on her words, wondering how much of what Aunt Eri said was true. After everything she had kept secret, could Áine ever really trust her again?

  Ciaran seemed to feel a bit of what she was feeling; his next words were softer. “Did you tell her about the Balor Wars, Áine? What does she know?”

  “We talked a little bit about it.”

  “Tell me everything,” Hennessy said, lifting her eyes from the book. “I want to know what I am getting myself into. You know, when I meet the really mean fairies.”

  Ciaran laughed. “Creed’s the meanest fairy I’ve met yet. Except for the kelpies.”

  “Cra,” Áine murmured. “Those kelpies are evil.”

  “Kelpies?” Hennessy asked.

  “Shapeshifters,” Ciaran replied. “Evil little devils. Let’s just say you should never accept a ride from a horse you don’t know.”

  “You know horses?” Hennessy asked. “Like personally?”

  “Very funny, Hennessy,” Ciaran said.

  “Thank you. Now shut up and let Áine finish.” Ciaran rolled his eyes at her but stayed silent. “Why can’t we use the Shadowmagic? Just a little bit? What are you so afraid of?”

  “I told you Oberon separated the worlds, but he didn’t lay all the veils at once. At first he just dropped the veil to protect the fey, creating the Shadowlands and the Aetherlands. But the early men, with their lust for greed and power, they sought to break the veil, to take each world as their own. They stole all the life, the light, and the power of the Eta here in your world. Then they tried to use their Shadowmagic to destroy the veil. Trees that used to radiate their own light began to reflect only darkness. The mountains bent down in shadows. The light—it was failing.”

  “Aunt Eri...” Ciaran paused but then pushed on, “she always said that Oberon was brave. Powerful. But above all things, he believed in balance. He knew there would always be shadows, but he also knew that there were ways to balance them with light. He thought he did that when he drew the first veil between the Shadowlands and the Aetherlands”

  “But he felt the veil lifting,” Áine said. “He sensed a rising power in the Shadowlands, and saw darkness where none was before. The veil was shifting. Even with everything he had put behind it—all of his power...I mean, it wasn’t falling—Oberon’s magic was far too great for that—but it was moving. The Shadowlands were growing larger with each passing day. And then, when Dunkirk fell...”

  “He went to war,” Ciaran finished.

  “The fey went to war,” Áine said. “They chased down those who practiced the Shadowmagic—the Illumasferá—and drained them of all their power. Sent them to the Hetherlands. But it wasn’t just humans that practiced the Shadowmagic. The fields of Raswee ran red with the blood of the Aetherlanders.

  “The war raged on for centuries, until finally, the first night fell in the Aetherl
ands. And in the darkness of that first night, Oberon made a devastating decision.

  “He chose to sacrifice himself, to give up the last of his power in order to protect and shield the Aetherlands from the encroaching darkness. Titania begged him not to. She took the Sword of Nuada from him. She begged the World Tree to let her cross into the Shadowlands to hide it—”

  “See, that’s the part I never understood,” Ciaran interrupted. “Why did she want to hide it from him? What’s her deal?”

  “She said it was because she couldn’t bear to lose him,” Áine replied, shaking her head. “But she doesn’t strike me as that sentimental. And something Creed said...maybe she didn’t want to lose Oberon’s power? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway. The tree refused her passage. She struggled with Oberon at its base. He overcame her, and cast her into a deep sleep. When she woke up, she found him hanging from the tree—he had plunged the sword into his heart. His final gift was more powerful than even he could have hoped for. The veils moved beyond mortal sight and the Shadows lifted from the Aetherlands. The borders between the worlds were permanently sealed, except for the Crossings. The last of the Illumasferá were trapped in the Hetherlands, where they kept manipulating the Shadowmagic, fighting amongst themselves, until they were consumed by darkness.”

  “So it’s never dark in the Aetherlands?” Hennessy asked. “It’s always bright and sunny, like you guys?”

  Áine smiled. “Yeah—it’s mostly bright and sunny. Except for one night a year, when the Aetherlands are plunged into darkness.”

  “Yeah, baby!” Ciaran said. “Midsummer Night! Craaaazy!”

  Áine waved him off, smiling. “On that night we drive the darkness away. We light up our fires and dance in the moonlight until the sun returns.” Áine stared out the window at the pale orb casting light on the dark streets of the city. “Oberon’s eye.”

  “That’s what Aunt Eri always calls it,” Ciaran said. “She says the moon used to shine so bright, even during the day, that the darkness was nothing but a deep twilight. Now, it waxes and wanes.”

  “There are some Midsummers where I feel like everything is so dark,” Áine said, staring out at the small houses flying by. “Like here. The moon barely pierces the night. But Aunt Eri always told me, when the night is darkest, when all hope is gone, the light returns, lifting the Shadows, to remind us that hope remains.”

  Hennessy patted the book in her hands. “So, we shouldn’t use Shadowmagic then?” Áine groaned in frustration, throwing one hand in the air and reaching over to smack her, but Hennessy cut her short. “Just messing with you, Áine. I get it. Shadows. Dark magic. Bad stuff.”

  Áine sighed. “Understatement of the century. But whatever. Now at least you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  “Yeah,” she replied. “Sounds like lots of fun.”

  Hennessy dropped it, but Ciaran refused to move on. “But shouldn’t we know how to use it, how to protect ourselves from it? Won’t Creed use it against us?”

  Áine shook his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think that’s what he’s using. I think he just understands the Eta more than we do. Like he’s been working with it for centuries. But there is something I’m not getting. The Eta aren’t as strong here. They barely respond—”

  “Except for that last time,” Hennessy said.

  “That’s not that different from the Aetherlands, though,” Ciaran said. “The Eta never listen to you.”

  “But I don’t think it’s just me. Stop for a second and really focus. Can you feel them inside you?”

  Ciaran took his hand and placed it against his head, humming softly; then he said, “Through the mists and darkness—”

  “Stop messing around, you grungen. Really focus.”

  He stared ahead for a long moment, and then he cocked his head to the side. “You’re right. They’re not as strong.”

  “That’s what I’m saying! That’s the whole deal with the Shadowlands, right? But Creed can still control them. He must have had some sort of training, or be working with them in ways we just don’t understand.”

  “Maybe it’s because he’s a fire fairy,” Ciaran added.

  “Maybe,” Áine said.

  The conversation fizzled, and Hennessy’s eyes fell back on the book. Áine stared at her for a moment, then let it drop and looked out the window. They were just entering the city. The night was so dark, and all the streets were empty. A river wound its way beside the street and the streetlamps held back the darkness. But the lamps did nothing against the rain. Áine watched as the first drops hit the window, then began to fall in earnest.

  “Rain,” Ciaran said.

  “It’s Ireland,” Hennessy mumbled.

  “Hey!” Ciaran said. “At least that will help with the fire problem.”

  “Yeah, but it won’t help with the Guardian problem,” Áine said.

  The dark, closed-in neighborhood gave way to a line of trees and a well-lit building. If she had not known better, Áine would have judged it a parliament building or a grand museum. With its imposing edifices and stone façades, Dublin Central was nothing like she imagined. She had expected a dark old building perched high on a cliff, far away from the ears of the sane who might be tainted by the ramblings of a few lost souls. She didn’t think she’d see a well-kept hedgerow lit by street lamps. Beautiful trees and flowers. Clearly, they treated the insane much better than she supposed...or dreamed.

  Áine thought about how the dreams had moved in and out of the past. Maybe she had dreamed of a different place or a different time? She wished she knew. She had no idea how old Keva was. One moment she was a fragile girl, the next she was a tired old woman.

  The car rolled to a stop. When she looked out the window, she realized it had stopped raining.

  “No rain now,” she said quietly.

  “Of course it stopped raining,” Hennessy said, her words jumbling together. “It never rains in Ireland when you actually want it to.”

  Áine turned toward Hennessy. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” Hennessy said, then shut the book. “It was just a few drinks.”

  “Wait a minute, she’s drunk?” Ciaran asked.

  “I’m not drunk!” Hennessy slurred.

  “Great,” he said. “She’s drunk. Stupid Shadows. Now what?”

  “Shut up, Ciaran,” Áine said, focusing on Hennessy. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay,” Áine said. “Let’s do this.” She opened the car door, but Hennessy grabbed her arm before she could get out.

  “Slow down. We need to be strategic here.”

  “Strategic?” Ciaran asked. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

  Hennessy ignored him. “We can’t just go charging in there. We need to have a plan—or something—right? And I’ve been thinking—”

  “Wait, you’ve been thinking?” Ciaran asked. “How’s that been going? Would you say you’re pretty clear-headed?”

  “Shut up, fairyboy,” Hennessy said. “If we all go in at once, we could all die at once. Then Keva doesn’t stand a chance.”

  Áine could see where Hennessy was going with her plan, and Ciaran read right through it too. “Oh, I get it,” Ciaran said. “You want me to stay out here, right? Wait in the car?” He opened his door. “Not gonna happen.” Ciaran jumped out of the car and slammed the door behind him.

  “Just wait a second,” Hennessy said, as she and Áine got out of the car. She turned around and faced Ciaran. “If this is a real hospital, we don’t just get to walk in and see her. It’s four in the morning. You ever heard of visiting hours? This place is probably locked down. We’ll have to convince them she should get some visitors.”

  “So what are we supposed to do?” Ciaran asked, his face inches away from Hennessy’s. “Charm our way in there?”

  “I’m not sure you are even capable of being charming—”

  “You could just breathe on them,” Ciaran said.
“You’d knock them right out—”

  “Let it go, guys,” Áine said, sliding between the two of them. “We need to figure this out. Hennessy, just finish explaining what you’re thinking.”

  A small smile slid onto Hennessy’s face, and Ciaran gritted his teeth. Áine glared at Hennessy, and she rolled her eyes. “Anyway,” she continued. “From what I saw on my phone in the pub, it looks like the patient rooms are all on the first floor.”

  “Wait, you saw that on what?” Ciaran asked.

  Hennessy pulled out her phone and waved it in front of him. “My phone. Technology, idiot. It’s like magic—only it runs out of battery. Now, see that row of windows?” Hennessy pointed toward the building, and Áine and Ciaran nodded. “Those must be their rooms. Áine, I figure you and I go inside and ask to see her. Ciaran sneaks around back and uses some of his magic to break in the back door, or one of the windows. Wait...you can do what Áine can do, right?”

  “I can do everything she can do,” Ciaran said. “Only better.” Áine turned to shove him, and he jumped out of the way. “Esoweminé Eta!”

  The grass beneath them shot up to their knees, and then shrunk back down.

  “You and your grass,” Áine said.

  “I don’t see how that’s gonna help,” Hennessy said.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Ciaran said. “It was cool, right?”

  Hennessy smiled and conceded the point. “It was.”

  “I can do other stuff too,” Ciaran said. “Which is why I don’t really like your plan. I’m not just going to leave Áine while you guys walk inside. She needs my help more than yours.”

  “What, you think us girls can’t handle ourselves? That we need a big strong man to come and...” She wiped her hand across her mouth, her words disappearing in a slur, and Áine sighed.

  “Oberon, you are drunk,” Ciaran said.

  “And you are annoying,” Hennessy replied, her face reddening. “I don’t see you handing out any great suggestions.”

  “I wanted to let you finish with your ‘strategy.’“

  “Just quit it,” Áine interrupted. “Hennessy, he’s right. You’re not really being yourself. And even though your plan does make some sense, I have to agree with Ciaran. I don’t like the idea of splitting up.”