Dark circles around bloodshot eyes transformed Candace’s face from the youthful glow she typically had into the visage of someone decrepit and malnourished. She looked and acted like a drug addict going through withdrawals. Well, I’ve never seen a drug addict, except on television, but her jittery body movements, followed by periods of lethargy, gave me that impression.
“Air shield,” she barked when I walked into the living room. Ronnie squeezed his eyes shut and backed away from her when she did.
“It’s up,” I whispered.
Her voice was hoarse and strained. “I don’t blame you, not one bit, but I expect you to tell me the truth. They have my family, don’t they?”
“Yes, they have them.”
Candace bit her lip and blinked at the ceiling, trying not to cry. “They’re still in Eureka?”
I felt the breath wheeze out of my lungs, but I couldn’t stop it. “No, they’re moving them to the desert.”
“What des—oh my god, you mean their new base in Texas?”
“Yes.”
“That bitch…” she whimpered. Tears began leaking over her lower lids, despite a futile attempt to seem brave and wipe them away. “Mom and Dad have nothing to do with this. That bitch. Kevin is only twelve…he can’t help her, not with anything. What she can’t force Mom to do by intimidation, she can just compel. They are compelling them. They’re probably…”
Candace lost the fight with sobbing, her shoulders hunched, her face buried in her thin fingers. She mumbled, “I hate her, I hate her,” over and over. “You’ve got to help them,” she begged in an anguished voice. “Please help them.”
“I’ll try,” I said, fighting with my own emotions.
“You liar,” she mumbled, sobbing like a small child.
“I will do what I can—”
She wiped her nose, “Well that’s not much, is it?” You’re here, they’re there, and none of them…” she pointed out the window, “…none of them are willing to take the risk are they?”
She was right, of course, and that hurt me even more. “I’ll talk to—”
She stood and got in my face. “Oh my god, really, you’d do that for me? You’d talk to them?” She said sarcastically. “You should have just said that last night—why all the coy disguises? Talking to the Fae will fix everything.” A slight tremble in her shoulders turned more violent as she lost control of her emotions again and heaved.
Her pain killed me. The natural guilt I felt was amped up to unmitigated despair by the Aether. I just stood there at a loss for words. I wanted to say anything to make her feel better, but that would involve a lie.
“I know what you’re going through,” I said. “Let me help.”
“No, no you don’t—your family is safe.”
Anger flared in my chest. I wanted to remind her about my father—he hadn’t been dead for two months yet. I wanted to pin her against the couch and shout about Aunt May and Mitch, but what good would that do. It would just make her feel worse. Judging by the wide-eyed look on Ronnie’s face, I think he expected me to lash out. I took a deep breath and exhaled, and he gave me an approving nod.
She glared at him, then at me, and seemed to melt when she realized what she’d said. “Oh god, I didn’t mean—I…”
“I know you didn’t mean it,” I said, my temper easing. “I know the terror, the anger, and the helplessness. If I’m being honest, there is nothing I can promise you about your parents or your brother, except that if I get the chance I will try to save them.”
“I keep thinking maybe if I hadn’t come, none of this would have happened—”
“You’re just beating yourself up and there is no point in it. They got to Doug—if we’d stayed in Arkansas, they would have gotten to us, too,” Ronnie said.
She turned red and flopped back down on the couch. “I can’t stand feeling so helpless.”
“It’s the worst feeling in the world. Your imagination runs wild with thoughts of what they might be going through,” I whispered. “You pray—you beg to God to make them safe, and when you open your eyes—”
“—You get angry because you know they’re not,” she finished my sentence without looking up.
“You need to get out of this crappy little cottage,” Ronnie said. “We all do.”
I nodded. “How long have we been here?” I asked, unable to remember what day it was.
“Five days.”
“God, it feels like five years,” Candace said.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked.
She lifted her pale face. “Home.”
He nodded and whispered, “That would be nice.”
* * *
“Gavin, what are you doing?”
“No, stop arguing and close your eyes. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it—and do your best not to use your senses. I want this to be a surprise,” he said.
He’d promised to take me away from here, and I was excited to see what he had in store for me, so I agreed. One arm under my knees, one bracing my back, he lifted me off the ground. I slid against his chest and planted my face against the thick triangle of muscle between his neck and shoulder. My mind raced with ways I could lure Ozara into a trap and with daydreams of rescuing Candace’s family without casualties. He was right. I needed a break. I drew Gavin’s scent through my nose and allowed his smile to form in my mind’s eye. Then, and only then, did my mind clear.
“Keep them closed.”
“Do they know where we’re going?”
“No. You need to be away from them for a while—Caorann agreed. Ready?”
The tone of Gavin’s voice excited me. “Yes.”
We lifted off the ground and into the night sky. The wind rushed across my face. I wrapped us in Clóca, ensuring that we wouldn’t be followed. Despite the temptation to peek, I kept my eyes closed and my senses turned off. The late summer night air was cool, but Gavin generated heat around me. I felt safe.
Flying with him jogged memories of our first real conversation on the beach back when I was fifteen, when he revealed himself. I had assumed he was Air aligned, like Sara, and he chastised me when I pictured him with wings. I felt ornery.
“Well, I know we’re flying, so tell me, do you have wings?”
The deep laugh in his chest rumbled in my ear. “No, I told you, Miss O’Shea, that I have never adorned myself with wings, and I never would. A Fae doesn’t need wings to fly—you know that.”
“I do, but all the same, I think you’d look hot—like some smoldering angel or something.”
“Or something.”
“So, even if I asked you, you wouldn’t do wings for me?”
“I love you, Maggie, love you more than anything else in my existence, but there are a few things I refuse to do. Wings, well, that’s one of them.”
“Even if I pout.”
“That would be out of character for you, and very unattractive. I’d know you were faking.”
I burst out laughing. “Do you really think you know me that well?”
“Not as well as I intend to know you.”
I tingled all over.
“Well, I think one day you’ll do wings for me.
“That will never happen.”
“So, are you taking me to a—“
“Eh, no hints,” he interrupted.
“Just a small one?”
Laugher rumbled in his chest again. “I bet you were awful at Christmas.”
I laughed. He was right, of course, at least before I got to the Weald. When I was nine, Dad caught me peeling the tape off a present. It was a gorgeous box neatly wrapped in red foil with a white ribbon and bow. Dad gave me a lecture about patience and sent me off to bed. My eyes misted as the memory played in my mind. God, I missed him. The memory was cruel. The scent of his aftershave lingered in my mind, along with the lines around his mouth, the green of his eyes, and strength of his hands. I could almost touch them.
“Did I say something to upset you?” Gavin ask
ed.
“No,” I said, sniffling and pulling myself back together. “I was just remembering a Christmas with Dad.”
“I’m sorry, Maggie.”
“No, it’s okay. The pain is always there. I just have to keep my mind on something else.”
I half expected words of wisdom or some speech about how it will get better with time, and I was bracing myself to keep from getting annoyed. I hated those speeches—they only seemed to work in movies. But like he always did, Gavin seemed to know that all I needed was contact. He leaned his cheek against the top of my head, and left me to my thoughts.
The smell of the air changed. I’d grown up going to the ocean, so I knew we were over water. I kept my eyes closed and tried to wait patiently. When we finally slowed, he dropped something out of his hand and seconds later I could hear waves gently slapping up against something solid. I didn’t realize he’d landed until he took a few steps, weaving left and then ducking slightly. Whatever we were on, it was moving.
“Keep them closed for a few more seconds.”
I didn’t look, or use my senses to poke around us, and that was difficult when he channeled energy. He sat and relaxed with me in his lap.
“Okay, open your eyes.”
What appeared pitch black at first slowly took shape as my eyes adjusted. We were on a small sailboat in the middle of the ocean, just the two of us. The sail billowed under s slight breeze.
“It’s a beautiful boat—very tranquil,” I said.
His tenor voice just above a whisper, he said, “The boat is just a platform, Maggie. I brought you here to show you something else,”
“What?” I said looking around the deck.
He chuckled softly. “Look up.”
My breath caught in my chest. Stars. More than I’d ever seen in my life. Against the dark sea, from horizon to horizon, the cloudless, moonless sky was alive with them, so thick and dense, it appeared almost like clouds of light. It was like I’d never seen a night sky before.
“You wanted to see something spectacular—something serene and peaceful. The night sky at sea, with human eyes, it’s truly something to behold.”
“I’ve never seen so many stars,” I whispered, still not believing what I was seeing.
“If we had more time, I would have taken you to a high desert—that is the best place to view the night sky, but there is something very magical about the sea that one doesn’t get on land.”
“No. This is perfect. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Gavin’s face, draped in soft blue light, relaxed into a smile. He’d never been more attractive to me than he was then, gazing into the heavens. Tears welled in my eyes and warm emotion filled my chest, tightening my throat. Dimples formed in his cheeks when he shifted he eyes to me.
“Relax.”
“Gavin, tell me another story, please?”
We laid against the deck, side-by-side, his arms around me. Like the times I visited him by astral projection when he was on the run, he whisked me away with his words. It wouldn’t last long, but I let my worries drift away in the sound of his voice, the sea lapping the hull of the boat, and the breeze gently tossing the rigging. I drifted to sleep in his arms. I hadn’t been that happy in months.
FOURTEEN
RISING TENSIONS
The happiness I felt from having nothing on my mind, except Gavin and the stars, disappeared the closer we got to Cnoc Aine. Each time I thought about Candace, images of Doug and his parents burrowed into my mind. The words of a promise I’d made were there, too. Before Gavin and I left, I gave Candace my word that we’d rescue her family. I meant them, but knew it was a mistake. The Coalition Fae would not easily risk their own lives for a few humans. They’d only do it because I had asked them to. Many were already angry that I had refused to project, but Ozara’s threat rung in my ears. I knew she’d kill Candace’s brother and father. To preserve their lives, I risked everything. The good will I’d earned would evaporate if anything went wrong—and my gut told me something bad was going to happen.
On the eastern horizon, morning light seeped over the rolling hills, lighting the Irish sky in rich golds, mauves, and blues. The Fae were still there in mass, each clan clustered in different camps—if you could call them camps. There were no fires, no tents, and nothing jovial about the atmosphere. Unlike the upbeat energy we’d left, a dim foreboding seemed to arrive with daybreak.
“What do you suppose is wrong?”
“You sense it, too?” Gavin asked.
“How can you not? They have all the happiness of a funeral party.”
“Maggie, Gavin, Please join us,” Caorann said telepathically.
“I really didn’t want to come back here,” I said. “I’m beginning to hate Ireland.”
Gavin gave me a little squeeze, and moved us toward the top of Cnoc Aine hill—it had become the makeshift meeting area of the Coalition elders. Over the past few days, the composition of the elders had taken shape. It was predictable. Bastien, Caorann, Tse-xo-be, Sinopa, Zeus, Dana, Poseidon, and Hera, who was the next oldest Olympian, were the clear leaders—the ones who did the most talking. But there were twenty-five others who were always included. I learned that they were among the first one hundred Fae. Ohanzee, Olympian, Sidhe, Kobold, Alfar, Portune, the Huldrafolk, and what remained of the Kabouter, and the Fee. The first thing I noticed was the lack of robes. None of them appeared in glowing ethereal gowns. Instead they were suited in what looked like form-fitting leather. The grim, warrior-like apparel matched the expressions on each immortal face.
“Are you rested?” Aphrodite asked, a warm and seductive tone in her voice.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“That’s good,” Caorann said.
“Gavin, if you would,” Zeus said, glancing down the hill at the cottage.
Gavin ran his hand from my shoulder to the small of my back and turned to walk away.
“Do you mind if he stays?” I asked.
“Maggie, that isn’t appropriate,” Gavin said in a whisper.
“It’s fine,” Bastien said. “Gavin may stay.”
Caorann nodded approval and so did Tse-xo-be.
“Your Air barrier, please,” Dana said.
Her request made me nervous, but I did what she asked and circled the Fae around me.
“What happened?”
“Before you projected to warn us about Ozara, we prevented a second attack against your country’s naval forces. Two Alliance Fae—Raphael, a Duede elder, and the eldest Jinn, Horus—infiltrated the military forces of another country. There was little we could do, except to destroy the vessels under their control. Those actions, of course, have triggered new ones. The Alliance controls the area, and they appear to have infiltrated many governments, as well as your own. The conflict is escalating.”
“What country? What actions?” I asked.
“Russia,” Bastien said. “It started with our intervention. We prevented a missile attack on the American Navy, but not before they detected it. They fired in retaliation. We destroyed the missiles and the drones before they could do any physical damage—but the political damage? It has been done. Last night, Iran, Syria, and Egypt fired on Israel. Israel bombed military bases in Syria and Egypt, but their largest offensive was directed toward targets in Iran.”
“So what’s happened?”
“Two American ships are lost, many lives ended. Eight Russian ships lost, and many more lives ended. The conflict is growing exponentially. The Americans repelled a missile attack and retaliated by obliterating the small Iranian Navy. They have hunted down and sunk two of three Iranian attack submarines. Poseidon destroyed the third.”
“Oh no,” I mumbled.
“We are doing what we can to prevent more from becoming involved, but the Alliance has been staging the conflict for some time. They compelled military and political leaders, and they, in turn, have enraged the populace. There are protests and random acts of violence across the region.”
Caorann raised her hand. “I know what you are going to ask, and the answer is no. Simply compelling a few leaders, if we could get to them and keep the Alliance away, will not alleviate the tensions.”
“It’s that bad?”
“Maggie, it took Sara months to correct the years of compulsion your father endured,” Tse-xo-be said. “I do not know this for sure, but the affected leaders may have undergone more extensive attacks than even he did. Beyond Fae tampering, the parties exchanging blows have long, violent, and complex histories. It is not a matter of controlling the leaders. That part of the world is replete with examples of violent overthrows and coups. There are tens of thousands of people who could individually make the situation worse. We are not prepared—there aren’t enough of us to undo what has been set in motion.”
“I don’t believe that—I know you can do something,” I said.
Tse-xo-be looked grim, his thin lips pressed into a flat line across his face. “If we were only correcting the problems, it would be possible to restore order. What makes the task infinitely more difficult is that we are not alone. The Alliance has larger numbers, and when we interfere, they resort to a backup plan. We are on the defensive.”
I felt ill. “You’re preparing me, aren’t you?” I asked.
Caorann nodded. “We cannot save everyone—we cannot prevent all of the death and destruction that is going to occur.”
Ozara’s face leered at me from memory. “Could her plan really be this intricate? Could her reach really be this far?”
Caorann nodded. “It can. It may seem impossible to you, but it is clear to me that you and Bastien are correct. She has been planning this for a very long time. Each action to this point has been carefully weighed, possible outcomes considered, and countermeasures prepared.”
“I recently learned that she had a hand in my parents’ marriage. Why? If she was determined to kill the human race off—try to assert herself as some kind of dictator, why worry about me? It doesn’t make sense. She practically guaranteed the existence of the one thing that could stop her.”
The Maebown Page 13
