Echoes from the Veil (Aisling Chronicles)

by Colleen Halverson

  A heavy weight dropped on my chest, and my gaze fixated on the ring in the middle of his palm, the pale gold, the round stone, smooth and a deep shade of forest green. It appeared so small and delicate, and I longed to grab it from him, place it on my finger, or at least keep it in some deep, hidden place so I could pull it out as proof. Proof that once two people gave everything to each other, proof that love had a shape and a material place in this world. Now, with Charlotte, our whole history felt so twisted, as if the path we had wandered down had suddenly ended and landed us inside the depths of a dark wilderness. I didn’t know what to do or where to go.

  He saw me staring down at the ring, and his fist clenched around it, his knuckles bright white. “It will never be the same now. There will always be the past lingering over us. And Charlotte—”

  “Fuck Charlotte, okay?” A wave of anger rose up in me, and I shook my head, cupping his face tightly with both my hands. “I have fought for you. Bartered my soul, traveled through time and multiple dimensions to be with you. I’ve been to the past, Finn. And to be honest? It kind of sucks. Let the past go and love me now. Right now. Here. It’s only us. There’s only ever been us.”

  He stared into my eyes, his gaze searing me straight to my soul. “I love you. I want to marry you. More than anything in this world.”

  “So what’s changed?” I demanded.

  “I don’t…I don’t know…” he stammered, staring down at the ring.

  I balled my hands into tight fists, the aching desire to punch him, knock some damn sense into that hulking man overpowering all the sense in my brain.

  “You want to sulk in this purgatory,” I said over my shoulder as I fled the ramparts. “Go right on ahead. Fuck you and your ring and all the promises we made to each other. If you’re going to let Charlotte come between us, then forget it. If all you want is a marriage, then maybe you should march right down to that dungeon and put that damn ring on her finger. And while you’re at it, get the plans to dismantle that goddamn bomb.”

  “Elizabeth—!”

  I slammed the door behind me, skulking blindly through the halls of Fianna headquarters. What I had said was cruel, childish even, and the words lingered in my mouth with a poisonous aftertaste. I couldn’t resent Finn for feeling confused about his wife returning from the dead, but deep down, I thought the promises he made to me were stronger than anything the universe could throw at us.

  My footsteps felt so heavy, as if fate itself clung to my heels and dragged me down. I wished Finn had followed me, but I couldn’t blame him. We were both a mess of righteous anger, regret, and rage, and as I wound my way back to the Great Hall, I became more determined to understand, to trace the origins of this mess back to the source.

  Malachy stood by the fire, a goblet in his hand, chatting animatedly to Talia, who had sprawled out across the floor, her scaly face resting on her deadly talons.

  “What happened the night of the fire?” I interrupted, marching right up to him.

  Malachy’s face contorted with confusion. “The fire?”

  “Yes, the fire,” I pressed. “When Charlotte supposedly died. What happened, and don’t lie to me.”

  Malachy sat back, stretching his long legs in front of him. “Elizabeth, the past is the past. Let’s not—”

  “Tell me!” I shouted, my voice echoing up into the rafters.

  He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “You have to understand, this was a different time. New York was at war.” He let out a long exhale. “When I saw what the Fianna had done, how they had set up the explosives, I grabbed Charlotte at the last minute and took her as my prisoner.”

  My jaw dropped, and I spluttered. “Malachy, how could you…? Why didn’t you—”

  “Tell you?” he said with a snort, shaking his head. “The heir to Tír na nÓg, daughter of my dearest friend, walks the earth? A miracle! A revelation! And not only that, her protector is the greatest warrior in an age. If I told you, both of you, what happened, Finn would have left you and gone in search of Charlotte. And you? You would have been broken. You’re a team. An insufferable team, but you’re better together.”

  I spluttered, fresh rage burning in my chest, my hands itching to throttle him. “Jesus, Malachy. I can’t believe you would hide something like this!”

  He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. So what?”

  “So what?” I blinked rapidly, my voice shrill and harsh in my ears. “You couldn’t have said, ‘Oh, hey, nice to meet you, and BY THE WAY your boyfriend’s wife is still alive’?”

  “Absolutely not!” Malachy’s voice boomed, his shoulders shaking. “That would have ruined everything!”

  My mouth dropped to the floor. “You are my friend, and you lied to me. All you care about is the Resistance. You never thought about the cost to me.”

  His face darkened, his canines lengthening. “I have spent centuries drenched in the blood of the Fae, crawling and scraping, fighting for every inch of ground to liberate our kind, to tear down the Veil and find freedom in the mortal world and Tír na nÓg. I have spied, double-crossed, and betrayed, and yes, I have lied. And I would lie again.”

  I stood there, stunned. All the blood drained from my face, and a wave of lightheadedness gripped me. I grasped the edge of a table, my fingernails digging into the ancient oak. I had trusted Malachy more completely than anyone else aside from Finn, and all that time, he had held this secret.

  I thought he was my friend, but I was nothing more than his ideological tool, a figurehead he could place at the helm for this operation. I glanced down at the swan tattoo on my hand, the tattoo he had so carefully placed there, point by point, the tiny ink dots creating the swirling wings, the outstretched neck. Every prick of my skin, every drop of blood another tally mark in this larger scheme.

  But wasn’t that what Maeve would say? They don’t want a piece of you. They want a piece of what you can claim. I glanced over his shoulder at the dragan Talia, now posed to strike, her emerald eyes studying me, waiting for me to attack, to scream…something. He had brought her clan here, her Fae clan and so many more.

  Maybe Malachy was right, in the end. All that mattered now was winning, resisting, getting through it. We couldn’t turn back now, and I needed fighters, regardless of the reason why they stood beside me. I straightened up, tucking my loose hair behind my ears, forcing my face to smooth over to some semblance of calm.

  “Elizabeth.” Malachy stretched out his hand, his eyes softening. “Finn said himself, whoever that woman is, she could have returned to him, but she didn’t. Why should I have said anything with so much at stake?”

  “What happened to Charlotte?” I asked in a flat voice. “You said you kept her prisoner, but she escaped. How?”

  Malachy squirmed. “Well, that’s actually the interesting bit.”

  I glowered at him. “Malachy.”

  He shrank away, steepling his fingers under his chin. “I told you. We were at war. It was a different time. And Charlotte’s family was powerful. They offered me a king’s ransom in exchange for her, even gave me a job on the inside.”

  “Her family?” I said. “Who…?”

  He scratched his head. “Some government official. An ambassador or something like that. Whoever they were, they knew of the Fae and had it out for us. They even knew about—”

  A guttural cry echoed through the Great Hall, and I whirled around just in time to see Finn leaping across the benches toward Malachy. Talia roared, smoke billowing from her nostrils.

  Malachy jumped up, shielding himself with his hands. “Finn, look, let’s talk about this…”

  Finn marched across the Great Hall, grabbing Malachy’s lapels and slamming him against the wall with such force, plaster rained down on their heads.

  “Liar!” Finn’s muscles trembled, his hands shaking with rage.

  Talia let out another roar, her ta
lons scraping across the floor. I tried to edge myself between the two men and the dragan, ready to travel Finn out of there, blast Malachy away, something, anything to stop them from killing each other. I stopped short when Finn glanced over his shoulder, his red eyes seeing right through me.

  Malachy raised a hand to Talia, who only briefly paused, her talons clicking on the floor in a quick staccato, green eyes trained on Finn.

  Malachy slumped against the wall, shaking his head. “It was for your own good. Believe me—”

  “I thought she was dead!” Finn threw Malachy to the ground. “You knew all along!”

  I stood there trembling, trying to find my voice, but all the oxygen remained trapped in my throat.

  Malachy scrambled to his feet, brushing off his suit. “Yes, I knew. When I worked as a double agent, I would sometimes see glimpses of Charlotte and her family, but in the end, she mattered little to me. None of you humans did. And then you showed up, the protector and consort of the Princess of the Fae, the one who could unite and save our people. Why would I tell you the truth? So you could run off, search for Charlotte Hayes, and break Elizabeth’s heart? Just look at her!”

  A horrible frown distorted Finn’s face as he paused, studying me for a long time. I wondered if I appeared as alone and friendless as I felt right then, the walls of the Great Hall closing in on us, boxing us into that one moment, that one freeze frame.

  Just look at me. I longed to echo Malachy’s words, because as Finn stared me down, eyes scarlet rimmed, cheekbones sunken, his jaw a black shadow of fresh beard, I knew he didn’t see me at all. He saw Charlotte and the years he had lost without her. He saw his grief, his pain, his broken vows. But he didn’t see me. My chest tightened, my heart pounding impossibly fast as a scream welled up in my throat, and I turned away, clutching the back of my neck, my head hung low.

  Malachy stood beside me, his hand gesticulating with sharp movements. “You think for one moment I care about you or your wife? Everything I’ve done has been to protect Elizabeth. To protect the Fae. Yes, I sold your wife back to her family, and I would do it again. You think Charlotte belonged to you? To the Fianna? She was probably in the hands of the government all along.”

  Finn shook his head. “You’re saying she was a spy?”

  “How the fuck would I know?” Malachy shouted. “All I cared about was money to build our resistance. She could have been the bloody Easter Bunny for all it mattered to me.”

  Finn breathed hard through his nose. “You are unbelievable.”

  “I am as I ever was, Finn O’Connell.” Malachy looked Finn up and down. “But you’re the one I cannot believe. That you would abandon Elizabeth when she needs you the most!”

  “I am not abandoning her!” Finn bellowed.

  “You might as well be!” Malachy exclaimed. “Is your heart with her or that woman in the dungeon?”

  Finn’s mouth opened and shut several times, and he glanced at me, his fists clenched at his sides. He reached out a quivering hand and then pulled it back. Turning away, he kicked a bench, and it clattered to its side. I startled at the booming echo of the splintering wood against the flagstones. Finn rushed back to me, grabbed my shoulder, drew me close, and pressed a deep kiss against my lips. I sank into his body, relief filling me as I swallowed back a sob. His fingers clutched my shoulders with fierce intensity, one hand drifting up the back of my neck in a protective, possessive gesture.

  “I love you,” he said, breaking off the kiss with a great exhale.

  I nodded, suppressing a hot wave of tears. I still had so many questions—for Malachy, for Charlotte—but I didn’t question Finn in that moment. I didn’t doubt his kiss, his skin against mine. It was the only truth I had ever known. I leaned up, pressing my cheek against the sandpaper skin of his jaw. “We’ll get through this.”

  He cupped my chin in his large, callused hands. “And if we don’t, know that I could measure the greatest happiness of my life in the hours I spent fighting at your side.”

  My heart swelled. Perhaps all Finn and I had were mere hours, but if I died, I died knowing I wasn’t alone. I couldn’t fault Malachy for wanting to fight for justice, but I knew I would live and die for a higher cause—for love. Love. I couldn’t shout that word to my soldiers on the frontlines, make a catchy slogan with it and paste it on a bumper sticker, but my love for Finn encompassed multitudes, like the stars painted across the skies of Tír na nÓg. It was so much bigger than a war. It was everything.

  Behind us, Malachy cleared his throat. “Speaking of fighting, that black hole outside isn’t getting smaller.”

  I took a deep breath and stepped back, squeezing Finn’s hand. He gave me a tired smile, and my knees nearly buckled at the beautiful sight.

  I let him go and, squaring my shoulders, steadied myself for our next steps. “I’m going to go get Torc and his crew to bring them to Tír na nÓg. I want you to talk to Charlotte.”

  Finn opened his mouth to argue, but I raised my palm.

  “You know her better than anyone here. Maybe you don’t think you do, but she may reveal more to you, give us some clues as to how to destroy the device.” I touched his cheek. “We need you, Finn.”

  I need you.

  He nodded, taking hold of my fingers and pressing the pad of my palm to his lips, his eyes dark and full of resolution as he turned to leave the Great Hall.

  Talia, Malachy, and I stood alone in the dark chamber, and I glanced up at the dragan, taking in her great wings, her powerful scaled muscles. She had come like so many to fight for a better world in Tír na nÓg. In spite of everything, I couldn’t fail her, and as much as I wanted to scream and rail at Malachy, I needed his help.

  “I have to go,” I said to him in a soft voice over my shoulder. “In the meantime, I need you to work out a plan.”

  “A plan for what?”

  “To take back Teamhair.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I traveled back to London, to the underground headquarters of the Fae Resistance. I winced as Torc barked orders to the púcas gathering sparkling weapons on the platform to hurry it up.

  “Almost ready?” I said to Torc’s back.

  He startled, whirling around and letting out a snarl. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

  “Like what?” I said raising an eyebrow.

  He waved his hand at me. “That Aisling thing. Your mother was the same. Always blipping in and out.”

  My mother. Her gentle face flashed in my mind. What would she think of our mission? Was this the world she dreamed for us? She had fought once, too, planned and plotted in this same station amongst the Fae living mortal-side, dreaming of a new world where they could live free amongst humans. When I first came to know these Fae, I had no idea how many of them lived in secret and in hiding, fearful the Fianna would snatch them up, imprison them…torture them. That game of cat and mouse seemed almost quaint, given the obstacles we now faced—the end of all magic, the severing of an entire dimension, a treacherous goddess destroying the world. We needed to work together, or we would all die.

  Torc glanced at his watch. “Give us a few more minutes. There are two more crates we need to bring up.”

  I nodded, wandering across the platform and into a back room no one had entered for a long time. I brushed away the dust and cobwebs, my fingertips dancing over the mural my mother had once painted so long ago. She knew about time. The entire history of the Fae emerged from those swirling lines. The Fir Bolgs, the Fomorians, the Tuatha Dé Danann, the Celts. The line spun out to her death, the witch who had imprisoned her lurking in the corner, several floating cages floating in a murky blue background. She had seen it all. Another dark figure caught my eye, and I wiped away more dust with my sleeve. The wispy detail of black feathers emerged, wings outstretched. I had mistaken them for more swirling lines, but as the grime fell away, the distinct design of a raven stretc
hing around the circle my mother had created shone through the dust, the awen symbol drawn on her breast in bright red. I rubbed vigorously, trying to uncover more of the mural. How had I missed this before? I stepped back, my breath short.

  On the left side of the circle was the Tree of Life symbol. On the right side, a blazing sun. Danu and Bel. The gods separated by the chaos of the Morrígan. Around Danu’s symbol, my mother had painted a luscious garden of flowers, but around Bel’s sun, she had drawn lines, lines I had mistaken for decoration, randomness, but the lines were a series of roads, endless roads leading nowhere, symbolizing exile. The history of the Fae was predicated on this exile, this break. Long before anyone else, they fought this war against the Morrígan alone, and in this chaos, she thrived. I rested my palm on the cool stone, right in the circle of the sun. What if I brought Bel back to Danu? What if I were the person with the only power to do so? Perhaps I could end this war forever.

  I closed my eyes and thought again of Danu waiting in her garden for her exiled lover. I’m sure she was beautiful. What goddess wouldn’t be? My mother had asked for her help once, and she had answered. I never went to church growing up and didn’t see myself as particularly religious, but in that moment, I prayed.

  Danu, come to my aid. Help me bring Bel back to you.

  I repeated these words over and over in my mind, desperate for an answer. Out of the quiet came the faint hum of a song, and it startled me back to the present. Yet, when I opened my eyes again, only the silence of the platform greeted me, the symbols on the wall still flat, dimmed with grime, and two-dimensional.

  Bel. I needed to find him. I needed to find him and take him back to the garden, to Mag Mell. United, he and Danu could turn the tide, destroy the device, bring peace. How? I had no idea, but there were larger forces at work, and I refused to give up.

  “You in there, Princess?” Torc’s voice echoed across the empty chamber.

  “Coming,” I replied, taking one last look at the mural before jogging back to the main platform of headquarters. Torc’s people mingled, talking in nervous tones. As I walked amongst them, a hush passed through the chamber, and I stood in front of Torc, staring into his whiskey-colored eyes. My gaze swept across the púcas.