Echoes from the Veil (Aisling Chronicles)

by Colleen Halverson

  “Would you mind”—he gestured across his body—“fixing this up a bit?”

  “Uh…”

  “Use your mind. Think of it as nice and freshly pressed. Anything is possible here if you can dream it.”

  I cleared my throat, and I willed my mind to clean him up and polish his suit. Instantly, his appearance transformed, and he smiled, glancing down at his cufflinks.

  “Platinum,” he said. “Very nice.”

  He nodded toward the woods. “Go get your prince, Elizabeth Tanner.”

  I ran forward, calling over my shoulder, “Thanks for all your help!”

  Bel had already disappeared, the ruins empty. I raced into the trees, spying Finn lying asleep on a slab of stone. I hovered over him, studying his beautiful face for a moment. I leaned down, my lips a hairsbreadth from his when some incredible force wrenched me away, throwing me to the ground and dragging me backward.

  I twisted around to face my attacker and snarled.

  “Edward Thornton!” I screamed.

  The wizard stood before me. My nemesis. He wore black robes, his emaciated face even more waxen, as if all his human features had melted away and what remained was the barest layer of skin. Blue veins stretched across the horrible mask, and he held his skeletal arms outstretched, the tendons in his wrists straining as he drew me closer toward him.

  I dug my heels into the dirt, reaching for my own powers. I had faced Thornton in dreams before. He liked to weasel into my mind, attack me at my most vulnerable. I didn’t know why he would be there now, but I refused to let him get in the way of Finn and me. Not now. Not after everything I had done to reach him.

  “What do you want, Thornton?” I screamed. “What?”

  He smiled and two great bastes hovered behind him, giant serpents, their fangs dripping with venom, yellow eyes focused on me with malice.

  “I want you, Elizabeth Tanner,” he said.

  With all my strength, I freed myself from his grip and tapped into the fragile weave of the dream. If Thornton could control this world as a guest, I could rule it as its master. When I opened my eyes, a dozen Elizabeths appeared around me, perfect replicas of me, whirling twelve spears in perfect unison.

  “You can’t have me,” all us said at once.

  My heart raced, and I whirled my spear, on guard, my doppelgangers following suit.

  The bastes slipped to the ground, slithering, their diamond heads bobbing and weaving.

  “Come with me now, Elizabeth,” Thornton called across the clearing. “You know you’re no match for me here.”

  The bastes attacked my doppelganger on the left, and I wove through them, ducking behind a tree as the rest went after the vile beasts. An explosion burst next to me, and the tree turned to a pillar of ash and fire. I rolled to the right and sent a bolt of lightning across the clearing. It hit Thornton square in his shoulder. He slammed to the ground, his bastes winking out of sight.

  I raced toward Finn, pulling him close.

  Thornton coughed and rose to his knees, pulling something from his robes. It shone a soft violet color. I gasped, my heart jumping into my throat.

  “Do you recognize it, Elizabeth?” he said.

  It was a trick. It had to be. He had summoned the device somehow.

  Thornton shook his head and laughed. “I’m one step away from finding the Tree of Life. The Fir Bolgs think they can control me, but they know nothing. If you help me, we could control it together. Share the power. With this—” He flashed the device at me, which had changed. Three Celtic swirls twisted and turned, the violet light turning to a sickly green. “With this we can rule them all. Your power and mine.”

  “You’re mad!”

  He smiled, flashing his small, pearly teeth. “We can play them all, Elizabeth. The Fir Bolgs. Trinity. You could be free of everyone. It’s your choice.”

  “Never!” And with that, I pressed my lips against Finn’s mouth in a hard kiss.

  Blue light engulfed me, my limbs crushed and paralyzed beneath the weight of a thousand timelines. Screams overwhelmed my ears, and I rushed through the current, trying to focus on Finn, trying to find my way back to him. To home. To the moment I left him.

  My body hit the concrete with a hard thud, and all the air in my lungs vanished. I ached all over, and when I opened my eyes, my vision blurred in a riot of color. The screams still surrounded me, and as my sight focused, I gasped, my heartbeat pounding. The screams didn’t come from traveling through time.

  The Faerie Market was under attack.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bullets streamed across the catacombs, slicing through the air. Fae dropped like dolls, their bodies trampled beneath the stampede of huddled, screaming masses careening into each other trying to escape the onslaught. Men in black tactical gear swarmed the market, calling out orders. Smaller figures followed them. Fir Bolgs. Sweat beaded on my upper lip, the temperature rising from the flames as the men marched through the stalls setting fire to the tents. I scanned the crowd for Morven’s tent, but a wall of flames shot across the aisle, and I scrambled away, trying to keep low.

  The realization hit me— The Fir Bolgs had discovered the device. They might have been tracking it all along. I slammed my fist on the ground, cursing my stupidity for leaving it with them. A lump rose in my throat. Finn. Eammon. Morven. Slaughtered.

  Finn.

  White-hot rage surged through me, and I shot to standing, my power unleashed. The flames buckled as a rush of air blew through the catacombs. Bullets whistled toward me, but I slowed time, tapping into the delicate waves of the current, my energy riding the seconds and making them bend to me. With all my strength, I sent a surge of power toward the black figures, and they flew back into the shadows. A noise to my left alerted me, and I whirled around.

  A woman stood there, her helmet discarded, long white-blond hair blowing around her face. She had a delicate nose and big ice-blue eyes that gave her an almost ghostly appearance. Her lips parted as if she recognized me, and both of us stood stock still for a moment, the Faerie market disappearing around us. Magnetized by her presence, I didn’t notice the weapon in her hand. The bullet discharged before I had time to move a muscle.

  Something large and hairy barreled into me, and the bullet whistled near my ear as I tumbled to the ground behind a wall. I grunted, the weight of the person above me crushing my lungs. Opening my eyes, I startled at the whisky-colored eyes twinkling at me.

  “Mind your head, Princess,” a familiar voice said. “Wouldn’t want a bullet to ruin that pretty face of yours.”

  Torc Triath. The Cinn Fein of London. Leader of the London Fae underground. He grinned at me through his thick red beard. He appeared thinner than I remembered, his face haggard.

  I heaved him off. “What’s happening?”

  “It’s a goddamn raid, that’s what’s happening.” He peered around the corner. “She’s gone, but more are coming. We need to get out of here.”

  He placed two fingers in his mouth and let out a whistle. Grabbing my arm, he pulled me down a long tunnel. Members of his tribe spilled out of a side grate, their red hair unmistakable even in the dim light. We took a sharp right, and it led us to a small wooden door.

  Torc raised his hand and drew a rune on the door. It lit up bright white and the door squeaked open. Shouts echoed through the tunnel, and we tumbled inside, shutting it behind us. Torc drew another rune on the door and it disappeared, turning into blank gray stone.

  We stood in the dark tunnel, the only light emitting from a small grate high above. Our heaving breaths filled the air as we panted in the shadows.

  “Who were those guys?” I asked, gasping.

  “Who do you think?” Torc laughed bitterly. “Fir Bolgs. Americans. It’s the eighties all over again, but this time they’re better armed.”

  The eighties all over again. I closed m
y eyes and leaned against the damp stone for a moment. Apparently, the American government had worked hard to eradicate Faeries back then, moving secretly into the London Underground to take control of the city’s Fae. That was how my dad met my mom. He spied for the military, and she spied for the Fae. Star-crossed lovers and all that. Nine months later, my mother had me, sacrificing her life to keep me hidden from all things Fae and magical. Long story short, it didn’t last and there I was, in the thick of it.

  Torc nudged me, and I opened up my eyes with a quiet curse.

  He lifted the butt of his M16 with a bitter sneer. “It’s genocide. Those bastards. Can’t leave us alone.” He gestured to his crew toward a side tunnel. “Let’s get back to base.”

  “As I recall,” I called after Torc, “one of the last times I visited your headquarters, you almost sold me to those Fir Bolgs.”

  Torc turned, a lurid smile painted across his rugged face. “Aye, I did. War makes strange bedfellows, innit?”

  I returned his grin with a hard stare. I had warned Torc, but he hadn’t listened, and now he found himself right smack inside a battle zone.

  “Have you seen Finn?” I asked, trying to keep the shaking out of my voice. “And two Druids with him?”

  The púca spit out the side of his mouth and shook his head.

  A cold sweat swept over my skin, and my chest tightened thinking of the flames consuming the catacombs. There was a chance they were still alive— I would have to go back when it was safe. Perhaps the Fir Bolgs captured them, but that was impossible. My mind wandered to the dreamworld, where I had confronted Thornton. He held the device in his hands. It was what they wanted, after all. I patted the canteen, still snug at my side. I didn’t have much at that moment, but a bottle of goddess blood could still turn the tide in our favor. Somehow.

  We didn’t walk far. Torc led us to a secret door hidden in the brick of the tunnel. He made a quick movement across the surface and the bricks slid away, revealing a perfect circle for us to climb through. As soon as my boot hit the glass tile floor, I gasped, glancing around in surprise.

  “Welcome to the Children of Lir’s headquarters,” Torc bellowed, raising his hands to the ceiling. “Where the past is prologue.”

  I took in the mosaics on the floor and the marble pillars holding up the tiled ceiling. The last time I walked through the abandoned train station, layers of dust covered the turnstiles and benches. Now the station sparkled, a series of desks lining the platform, púcas from Torc’s tribe clicking away on laptops, rummaging through papers. Even more púcas shuffled back and forth, gathering weapons and disappearing into back rooms. No one looked up as we hurried through the bustling throng, intense conversations buzzing around us about various missions. The occasional burner phone rang out in a metallic, tinny call before someone snapped it to life, ducking into corners for a secret conference. The sound of resistance.

  “Elizabeth!” a voice boomed through the station.

  Tears erupted in my eyes and my shoulders trembled as Finn barreled toward me. He smothered me against his chest, his arms like iron clamped around my back. I sank into him, choking back a sob of relief. I hadn’t lost him to time, and I had returned with the blood I had promised. I pulled away and looked up at his face, touching his jaw, his neck.

  “Oh, my God,” I said in a strained voice. “You’re alive.”

  He swallowed hard, his face white.

  “What is it?” I said.

  Eamonn appeared behind Finn’s shoulder, his eyes red and his fingers trembling.

  “What happened?” My voice came out low and shaking.

  Finn released me, his eyes locked onto mine. “It’s Morven. He’s dead.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  We sat in a back room, old boxes and debris littering the tiny space. My spear lay across my legs, humming with energy. It had refused to follow me into the past, and Finn had luckily grabbed it before the raid. Morven lay stretched out across the floor, his face a dull gray color, a tiny bullet hole in the middle of his long, scarred forehead.

  “They came as soon as you left,” Finn said beside me. “Somehow broke through Morven’s wards. He died instantly.”

  “How did you escape?” I asked in a soft voice.

  Finn nodded at Eamonn, who sat mournfully beside Morven, the Red Druid’s hand in his. “Eamonn shot a blast of Druid fire at them, and we managed to get away. But the device…”

  “Is gone,” I whispered.

  “How did you know?” Finn asked.

  “I saw Thornton with it. In a dream.”

  We sat there in stony silence, and after a while I pulled out the canteen with the Morrígan essence. “I did get the blood, though.” I glanced at Eamonn. “Do you think you could find a way to…”

  I trailed off as Eamonn shook his head. “I don’t know. Like Finn said, the attack came as soon as you left. We didn’t have time to delve into the spell.” His voiced cracked, and he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he studied Morven. “All that knowledge. Gone.”

  “I know, Eamonn, but we have to fix this. That black hole isn’t going away.”

  “What does it matter when we don’t have the device?” he said in a low voice.

  “We need to get it back.” I slammed my hand into my fist. “And we need to act quickly.”

  I stood up and Finn grabbed my hand. “Where are you going?”

  “To talk to Torc.” Grabbing my spear, I marched out of the room with Finn in my wake. A haggard-looking púca pointed me to Torc’s office, and I burst inside, interrupting a meeting. Amber-eyed púcas glared at me as I forced my way to face him. Blood splattered across his grimy cheeks, and despite the lines of exhaustion on his face, his eyes glittered with mischief.

  I ground my knuckles on the surface of his desk. “I need your help,” I said in a firm voice.

  He shook his head. “No, Princess. I told you. I have problems of my own. I want no part in your bloody civil war.”

  “I can make it worth your while, Torc.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  The púca smirked, glancing up at Finn. “You gonna let him watch?”

  Finn stomped across the room, but I stretched out my arm, blocking his path.

  I gazed at Torc. “You talk to me like that again, and I’ll cut your balls off. And yes, I’ll be sure to let Finn watch as I castrate you.”

  Torc gave me a hard stare and then threw his head back in laughter. “Very nice, Princess. I always did admire your pluck.” He lifted his legs and crossed them on the desk. “So what do you propose?”

  “Fight with me against the Fir Bolgs. Give us your weapons—”

  He let out a belting laugh.

  I raised my hand. “And in return, I will help you defeat these soldiers and give you a portion of the arsenal we confiscate from the Fir Bolgs.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “How much?”

  “It’s difficult to say, but I can provide you with aid.”

  Torc snorted. “The Fir Bolgs are heavily armed. They’ve taken control of Tír na nÓg. We have weapons, but it’s not enough to defeat them.”

  “I am enough to defeat them,” I said in a firm voice.

  Torc studied me for a long time, his head cocked to the side. I let the coldness take over me, hardening my heart so I could focus on his wide amber eyes, his grizzled beard, his turned-up nose.

  I straightened my shoulders. “I once asked you to join our cause and you said no.”

  He shook his head. “Like I said, I have problems of my own, Princess. I’m not going to get embroiled in your civil war.”

  “The civil war is here.” I pointed to the ceiling. “A black hole is consuming the sky because the universe is out of balance. Meanwhile, men and Fir Bolgs are burning your people alive. How many more of the London Fae have to die until you join the cause?”

  Torc s
neered, his face turned a violent shade of red. “You find yourself a spear and a couple of M16s, you dress up in your armor, get yourself a tattoo, and you think you’re ready to lead an army? I wouldn’t follow you into a sideshow petting zoo, Princess, much less into battle.”

  The sting of his words hit me like a slap, but I forced my face to remain impassive. “Then fight with me. Alongside me. Your people are yours to lead.”

  Torc roared and his features melted away, his body transforming. Tusks emerged from his face, auburn bristle covering his entire body. The giant boar filled the room, and he thrashed, smashing the desk against the wall. I backed away, my heart pounding. Finn unsheathed his sword, and I grabbed my spear. I had always wondered about Torc’s animal form, but nothing could have prepared me for this wild boar the size of a baby elephant and then some.

  “We are not people,” he said in a guttural voice, his hazel eyes boring into me. “We are púcas. Now get the fuck out of my headquarters and take your Druids with you before I ransom you back to the Fir Bolgs.”

  Finn emitted a low growl from deep in his throat, but I grabbed his shoulder and exhaled, all the oxygen leaving my lungs, hollowing me out. I planted my feet, my fists clenched at my sides. “You’re right, Torc. I’m not ready to lead. But how long are you going to hide in the shadows here until the Fir Bolgs and their allies pick you all off? Maybe I am a little girl playing dress up, but at least I’m fighting. What are you doing? Scavenging? How long do you think this will last?”

  Torc let out a low grunt, and his face returned to human form, his tusks receding. He walked toward me, his broad shoulders hovering close to mine. Finn bristled with rage beside me, but I stood my ground, my gaze boring into him.

  “Why should I?” Torc said, his face so close to mine, his breath brushed my hair from my face.

  “Fight with me, and we will return to London and defeat the ones who are massacring your people,” I said. “Fight with me, and I will fight for you. Together, we will win.”

  He backed away and waved to his soldiers. “Leave us,” he barked.