Portraits of the Forsaken

by E. E. Holmes

  It was dizzying—the longing, the shock, the taste of passion and salty tears, all tangled up together in this one, stolen moment in the fiery light of the dying sun.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered against my lips.

  “Don’t,” I breathed, kissing him again.

  He pulled away just enough to speak, our lips still touching. “But it was my fault. The notebook. I’m such a bloody fool,” he murmured. “How could I have been so—”

  “It’s not your fault. They found the sketch, too. The one I did of you in the Traveler wagon,” I told him. “Wasn’t it only a matter of time?”

  “I suppose. But I’m just so sorry—”

  “Don’t you dare apologize to me,” I told him, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. “Don’t you apologize for loving me. I don’t want to hear those words come out of your mouth. Ever. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

  “You? Apologize? But whatever for?” Finn asked.

  “They sent you to that príosún in the middle of nowhere!” I whispered. “Fiona saw you there, and she told me,” I added in answer to the question in his eyes. “You’re practically in exile, and here I am living in London, free to do what I want. You must despise me.”

  He grabbed my chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced it up so that I had no choice but to stare into his eyes. “I could never despise you. Never. Remove that thought from your head. It is an impossibility.”

  I gasped in relief and kissed him again. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you. So much. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t even realize how bad it would be. How consuming,” he said.

  “But how? How did you do this? How did you get here?” I asked.

  “With so many Durupinen in one place for this wedding, they needed all hands on deck for security. I volunteered, hoping there might be the slightest chance you would be here. Then I enlisted Olivia’s help.”

  “But why in the world would Olivia want to help us?” I asked. “I mean, I know she’s your sister, but…” I let the end of the sentence trail away. I didn’t know what to think anymore.

  “Olivia has been a fool, there’s no denying that. She’s been swallowing our clan’s poisonous thinking for years. Hell, I swallowed it for years, until I met you.” He paused, leaning forward to plant a gentle kiss on each of my eyelids. I shivered. “But recent events have really opened her eyes. She watched Marion’s machinations collapse, watched as it nearly destroyed everything. She was there when the Necromancers descended upon the castle. And she has had to endure the days since—our diminished status, the censure, the consequences. And while Peyton and Marion have grown bitter and entrenched, Olivia has been changed by what she’s seen.”

  “I had no idea. I half-expected to find the Elemental up here waiting for me,” I said.

  “Yes, well, she’s not likely to parade this particular change of heart. But it was enough for her to reach out to her big brother and make amends, for which I was grateful. And after today, I will owe her more than I can ever repay,” Finn said, running a finger along the length of my jaw.

  “So will I,” I admitted. “How much time do we have?”

  “Only a few minutes. I’m on a break before my shift change, and I cannot afford to draw attention to myself by being late.”

  I could feel the tears instantly beginning to well. “Hannah is already doing all she can to have the law struck down by the Council. But if it doesn’t work…”

  “Shhh,” Finn said, placing a gentle thumb against my lips, and then sealing them with another kiss. “It will work. It has to work. But there’s another reason I had to meet you, Jess, and it’s crucial that I tell you before we run out of time.”

  Something in his eyes, something behind the love and the longing, jolted me out of my self-pity. “What? What is it?”

  “Something… strange is happening at the Skye Príosún,” Finn said, glancing down at his watch.

  “What do you mean? Strange how?” I asked.

  “Well, first, you should know that all the Caomhnóir who work at the príosún have been censured in some way. It’s as much a punishment as it is an assignment, which, of course, is why I’m there.”

  “Is it horrible there?” I asked him. “This is such bullshit. I’m just living my life and you’re stuck in some hellhole.”

  But Finn waved an impatient hand. “Don’t worry about that. I can handle that place, that’s not the point. The point is, that there’s something going on with some of the Caomhnóir there… something I can’t quite put my finger on. There’s always been a bit of discord in the ranks—that’s to be expected, given the circumstances. But lately it’s gotten out of control.”

  “Out of control how?”

  “It’s… odd. People are trading shifts without notice, covering up for each other, taking unscheduled breaks, leaving the barracks in the middle of the night. They used to complain a lot, but they followed the rules. Now, it’s as though they just don’t care. Like they’ve collectively decided to just quietly ignore orders.”

  “That is strange,” I said. I had never met a Northern Clan Caomhnóir who didn’t adhere to rules with military rigidity. They wore their duty like a crown, every single one of them. The thought of a Caomhnóir bucking orders was just… antithetical.

  “Too right it is,” Finn said. “And then, last week, I stumbled across something I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to see. On my way back to the barracks from a late shift in the spirit cells, I saw a Caomhnóir going through a door. I wouldn’t have looked twice except that when the door opened, I could see a circle of other Caomhnóir inside, as well as some sort of Casting set up—candles had been lit around the room, and there was a smell of sage. Before I could get more than a glimpse, though, the door had shut, but even just that glimpse was enough to convince me that something wasn’t right. Then, when I got back to the barracks, there were seven bunks empty that ought to have been occupied.”

  “Couldn’t there have been a logical explanation?” I asked him.

  “I considered that,” Finn said. “Mostly because I wanted my instinct to be wrong. I checked the official schedule and the logs from the previous night when I was signing in for my next shift. There were no meetings, rituals, or gatherings of any kind in the official log book. And the Caomhnóir I saw entering the room had been officially documented as having been a shift manager in the living cells unit at the time I saw him entering that basement room.”

  “Well, why don’t you tell one of your superiors?” I said. “Report it. Surely they can do something about it.”

  “I’ve done that,” Finn said, his face twisting into a bitter grimace. “The leadership there are just as resentful as the underlings, and they… ah… don’t take kindly to criticism of the way they run things. I told them about what I saw, and they essentially said I was a liar. They insisted that all Caomhnóir were accounted for at that time. I asked if that included in the barracks, and they said yes. That was the moment I realized that someone on the supervisor’s level had to be involved, because they are the only ones allowed to take and handle such records. But I didn’t dare point that out. I was reprimanded and ignored, and then shoved unceremoniously onto the nightshift for good measure.”

  “But why wouldn’t they want to know if something bad was going on? That’s just ridiculous!”

  “Don’t you remember how the Council reacted when you warned them about the Necromancers four years ago? The Caomhnóir have the same blinders on when it comes to their own vulnerabilities,” Finn said.

  “But—”

  A sharp knock, three times on the door made us both jump.

  “That’s Olivia,” Finn said. “She’s letting us know that time’s nearly up.”

  “Already?” Even in the emotion of the moment I hated the sound of my own voice. So small. So hurt. So not the hardened survivor I determinedly told myself I was.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I thought… I just had to see y
ou. I hope… I didn’t want to hurt you more…” He passed a hand over his face, shielding me from whatever the pain was doing to his features.

  “No! Oh my God, no!” I said, pulling the hand from his eyes and placing it on my cheek. “I’d rather say goodbye a hundred times than not be able to say anything to you at all,” I said, swallowing a sob.

  His lips were pressed together, his eyes squeezed shut as he mastered himself. Then he let out a long breath he’d been holding and said, “What I just told you… about the Skye Príosún…”

  It was hard to pull my mind out of the yawning abyss of the goodbye, but I managed it. “Yes? What about it?”

  “I need you to help me. Something is not right there, I feel it in my bones. But if the Caomhnóir there won’t do anything to investigate it, then I need you to help me.”

  I blinked, pulled momentarily up out of the depths of my mourning. “Of course, I’ll do anything I can to help you, Finn, but… what is it you think I can do?”

  “Find someone amongst the Caomhnóir at Fairhaven—or one of the Trackers, maybe—who can look into it from the outside.”

  “But who?” I asked, my tone a bit frantic as he looked at his watch again. “Who can I trust? And how can I get someone to help me without admitting I’ve seen you? They’re going to want to know how I got wind of this situation.”

  “I don’t know, Jess. But I’m counting on you to figure it out,” Finn said.

  Another sharp rap on the door.

  “Please. Please just promise me you’ll try,” he said urgently.

  “I will,” I said hastily, prompted by an unprecedented note of hysteria in his voice. “I promise. I’ll find a way.”

  “Thank you,” he said. Then he wrapped his arms around me and enveloped me in a kiss that seemed to empty the entire room of air. I reeled as he pulled away and breathed the next words against my cheek. “I don’t know how, but we will get through this.”

  “Of course, we will,” I gasped, the tears coming now, try as I may to stop them. I faked an offhanded chuckle. “You think a little thing like a few hundred miles, an ancient law, and the entire clan power structure will stop us? Oh, ye of little faith.”

  He didn’t even pretend to smile. What was the point? “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you, too.”

  “Keep fighting.”

  “Always.”

  He kissed me one last time, a kiss that tasted like the brine of bitter tears, and then he turned for the door. I don’t know whether he looked back or not. I didn’t watch him go. I stood in the deepening darkness of the room, eyes closed, burning the feeling of his lips on mine into my memory, carving the details afresh, greedily hoarding away the sensations like the treasures they were.

  After a few moments, having given me all the time she could stand to waste, Olivia said, sharply, “Jessica. We need to get back downstairs before anyone notices we’ve gone.”

  I opened my eyes. “Yes. I’m coming.”

  15

  Flight or Fight

  OLIVIA AND I HAD TO WAIT at the bottom of the servant staircase for several long, tense minutes before the bathroom beyond was quiet and empty. Then we slipped through the door, shutting it behind us and heaving identical sighs of relief. We looked up at each other. It was a strange moment.

  “Thank you,” I said softly. “You could have gotten in a lot of trouble for doing that. I know you didn’t do it for me, but thank you.”

  Olivia nodded brusquely. She walked past me, then stopped and turned back to me abruptly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for… well, I’m sorry for a lot of things, but mostly I’m sorry this happened. It’s not right.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “My brother and I haven’t always gotten along, but if I know him like I think I do, this won’t stand. He’ll find a way, somehow. He’ll find a way back to you.”

  I fought back a fresh round of tears. I opened my mouth to reply, but no words would come out.

  Olivia sniffed and peered into a nearby mirror, dabbing at the corners of her eyes and ensuring her makeup remained flawlessly intact. “This never happened. If you tell anyone, I will deny it. We have not spoken tonight,” she said curtly.

  “Right,” I said hoarsely.

  “You’d best see to your eye makeup or people will know you’ve been crying,” she advised before flouncing out the door. Within seconds, I heard her in the entrance hall beyond, greeting someone in a loud, laughing voice.

  Back in the reception, the waiters were clearing salads and soup bowls away from the tables and bringing plates of roasted duck.

  “There you are!” Hannah exclaimed as I sat back down. “I almost went in after you. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I got a little distracted, checking out the paintings and stuff.”

  “Oh,” Hannah said with a shrug. “Here. I let them take your salad, but I saved the soup for you, because it is delicious! I thought you’d want to—Jess, are you okay?” She was looking into my face now for the first time, and reading it as only she could.

  “I’m good,” I said. She showed every indication of arguing with me, so I fixed her with a direct, quelling sort of look and said, “We’ll talk about it when we get home, okay?”

  She bit her lip, but nodded. “We’ll get out of here as soon as the dancing starts,” she whispered.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Good idea.”

  As the intensified emotions seeped through the connection, Milo looked up from across the room where he was chatting with a young gaggle of Durupinen.

  “Later.” I shot the word through the connection like a projectile and watched him as he flinched, nodded, and returned to his conversation.

  I spent the rest of dinner trying to respond normally to questions, swallow food that tasted like nothing, and fighting off a near constant urge to cross the room and flip the wedding cake table.

  At long last, the tables were cleared and the dance floor filled with people. We managed to extract Savvy from a loud knot of men at the bar, all cursing and cheering at a football match that someone was streaming on their phone.

  “Get stuffed, you wanker!” she called over her shoulder as we pulled her away from the bar. “Oi, I can’t go yet, I’ve got a bet on that match!”

  “You can send him a check in the mail,” I said, tugging her toward the door.

  “Like hell I will. The way West Ham is playing, I’m going to bleed him dry!” Savvy said. “Come on, I never get to have a flutter on a game anymore, the boys at home all know better!”

  “Come on, Savvy,” I said. “Please.”

  She stopped and squinted at me, and even a few drinks in, I saw that keen nosiness light up in her eyes as she interpreted whatever she saw in my face and heard in my voice. “Yeah, all right, then. You okay? I mean… you seem… yeah, let’s be off.”

  “Let’s go,” I said, turning for the doors. Savvy offered no more resistance.

  I don’t remember much about the ride back to London, except for the almost oppressive silence and the hypnotic way the lights flashed past the car on the highway. I knew they were all staring at me, silently asking each other what was wrong with me, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

  “Ambrose, can you drop us at Savvy’s place?” I asked suddenly.

  “What?” Ambrose grunted.

  “Huh?” Savvy and Milo asked simultaneously.

  “Savvy’s place,” I said in an exaggeratedly slow voice. “We’re crashing there tonight.”

  Ambrose just stared at me in the rearview.

  “We aren’t done partying,” I told him. “We’re still hungry, and we haven’t been food shopping yet.”

  “You’re hungry? But didn’t you just eat a whole—” Ambrose began.

  “Starving,” I insisted. “There’s nothing in the house. Savvy’s got food and booze, right, Sav?”

  “Uh… yeah,” Savvy said, frowning at me, but going right along with me like a champ. “Yeah, me mum’s do
ne a whole roast, and there’s all sorts in the fridge.”

  “Great,” I told her. “She won’t mind if we crash, will she?”

  “The more the merrier at Chez Todd, you know that,” Savvy said with a nod.

  “Excellent,” I said, clapping my hands together. “Let’s keep the party going!”

  Everyone was looking at me like I was insane, not least because I’d stared out the car window in silence the entire ride—not exactly like someone who wanted to party all night long. I didn’t care, though. All I wanted was to get somewhere away from Ambrose, somewhere where I could get the terrible weight of my encounter with Finn off my chest.

  At last, after thirty minutes of Ambrose quietly cursing the “character” of the neighborhood, the car pulled along the curb in front of Savvy’s apartment building. We all piled out. Ambrose made to get out of the car, but Savvy pushed his door closed with her foot.

  “No worries, mate,” she said, grinning broadly. “We’ve got our own Caomhnóir on the premises, remember? So, you go have yourself a little fun, eh? You’re off duty tonight.”

  And with a salacious wink, she turned and pointed to the front door. “We ride!”

  We all followed her in. I was relieved to watch the SUV pull away as Hannah tugged the door shut behind us.

  We trudged up three flights of stairs, too breathless even to curse the lack of elevator. At last, we stumbled through the door and into Savvy’s tiny sitting room.

  We had been to Savvy’s flat several times now. I still remembered how I’d felt the first time I’d seen it, amazed that so many people could live crammed into such a tiny, dingy space: six people in a two-bedroom flat. Savvy had three half-sisters. The elder two, Emma and Lottie, who were both eleven, shared a room with her. Somehow, they had managed to cram a set of bunkbeds and a single bed, along with a single dresser, into a space not much bigger than the average bathroom. The youngest sister, Maisie, slept on a mattress on the floor in Savvy’s mother’s room, which Savvy’s stepfather also occupied on the rare occasion that he felt the need to make a cameo in their lives. A chronic gambler and con man, Savvy had zero patience for him, and roared him out of the house any time she saw him, which was why he had taken to only returning in the dead of night when everyone was asleep.