by Anna Hill
Righting her features, she attempted to smile at him. “Hi Owen. How’ve you been?”
“Oh, you know, cramped and bored, but alive, so not bad.”
“Cramped is right!” Aeden injected from where he sat scrunched up besides Owen on the small couch. It was the only sofa in the tiny living room, and it was really more of a loveseat than a couch, its smallness exaggerated by the boys’ extra-long frames. “I almost miss my hospital bed.” Aeden wiggled back and forth, trying to gain a little more room for himself.
“Ow!” Faolan turned around and punched Aeden roughly in the leg. “Will you quit kicking me?!” She was seated in the cramped floor space between the couch and the pint-sized TV, with Trysten awkwardly curled up next to her.
Rebecca laughed, her earlier tension momentarily forgotten. It was comical to see so many large human beings crammed into such a small space. They really did need to move out, and quickly, before the apartment burst at the seams.
“What happened at the hospital?” Trysten sat up on his knees, turning to face her. “Any word on Maverick?”
Rebecca tried not to visibly flinch at the name as she heard Liam walk quietly into the apartment behind her. “He’s awake and fine. He’ll make a full recovery.”
“Good to hear,” Faolan stood up, stretching out the kinks in her back. “Now, more importantly, when are we leaving?”
“Tomorrow,” Liam uttered brusquely as he walked around Rebecca and into the kitchen.
“Seriously?” Aeden almost leapt off of the sofa. “He’s not kidding, is he? Please tell me he isn’t kidding!” He bounded over to Rebecca, nearly jumping with joy.
“I see you’ve made a full recovery, and no, he isn’t kidding.” Rebecca took a step back from Aeden, trying to ignore the awful, empty pit in her stomach. If the others had noticed Liam’s sour mood, they were doing a good job of ignoring it.
“How can we be leaving so soon? Maverick can’t even stand. We aren’t leaving without him.” Faolan leaned back against the side of the sofa and crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“Cailleach has arranged a transport for him, and a house for us.”
Owen laughed, “She’s that sick of us, huh?”
“Can you blame her? Stuck in this tiny apartment, I’m sick of us,” Aeden grumbled.
Trysten stood up and ventured toward the small kitchen, sarcastically rolling his eyes at Rebecca as he passed.
Rebecca gave him a soft smile and then turned her attention back to the living room.
“I guess we should pack then,” Faolan got up and proceeded toward the bedroom, followed closely by Owen and Aeden. “Since you never unpacked, Rebecca, want to come help me?”
It was obvious that Faolan was giving her an excuse to get away from Liam, which Rebecca readily took.
“I’d ask you to help me too,” Owen said as Rebecca followed him into the bedroom, “but I can’t remember the last time I did laundry, so…”
Rebecca scrunched up her face in disgust, “Gross! I didn’t need to know that.”
“You’re welcome,” Owen performed a mock bow and then made a beeline to his pile of clothes in the far corner of the room.
Rebecca wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but she could have sworn she saw flies buzz away from the pile as he approached.
Turning away, she walked over to the bed and sat down next to where Faolan was taking her clothes out of a dresser drawer.
Aeden and Owen, their arms overloaded with clothes, walked out of the room together to where their suitcases sat by the front door, leaving the girls alone.
“So, you finally went in his room?” Faolan asked nonchalantly as she continued to pile her clothes on the bed.
“Yes.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“Yes.” Rebecca knew she should say more, but the horrible, hollow feeling had begun growing in her chest again.
“You haven’t really spoken to anyone since that day.”
Rebecca shook her head and sat back further on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest. Even though Faolan wasn’t looking at her, she’d understood.
“Are you feeling OK about what happened?” Faolan’s tone may have been aloof but her tense demeanor communicated otherwise.
“Honestly, I don’t know.” Rebecca answered honestly. She’d bottled up her fear and anxiety for too long and, at this point, she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to hold them back much longer. Faolan had always been there to protect her. Perhaps, she could offer some comfort now, when Rebecca truly needed it. “I don’t regret what I did to those Elites. In my opinion, they deserved to die. But I think that’s actually making me feel worse about everything. I feel like I should feel bad about what I did--about killing all those Aillil. But I don’t. I think--I think I’d do it again if I was given the chance.”
The words sounded so evil as she finally uttered them aloud. How could she speak so callously about wasting other’s lives? But it was the truth, well, most of it. What she hadn’t told her friend is what had happened within her mind that day. The energy that had consumed her, the power that had coursed through her body, fulfilling a desperate desire to kill that sprung from her very core. She’d felt the same way when she’d killed the General, only this time it was far more intense. She was utterly terrified of the sensation now, and yet her craving of it still overpowered her fear. The need to feel that strength again was insatiable. What she couldn’t admit to Faolan was that she wasn’t sure whether her willingness to kill those Elites all over again stemmed from her desire to protect the crew, or from her desire to once more be consumed by the intoxicating power.
“As you should,” Faolan tersely stated. “They were going to kill us. In fact, they almost did. The giant scar I’ll have on my leg for the rest of my life proves it!”
She sat down next to Rebecca, abandoning her packing. “You did the right thing, as hard as it is to see that now. If it weren’t for you, I’d have a lot more than a giant scar. We all owe you our lives.”
“Thanks, but--”
“Now,” Faolan cut off Rebecca, adopting an austere tone as her eyes narrowed into angry slits, “the next time you decide you’re going to run off and abandon everyone, do me a favor, and don’t.”
“How did you know? I mean, I didn’t even know if--”
“I’m not an idiot, Rebecca. You never unpacked. You’re never here. You’re pulling yourself away from everyone in the crew. I bet you even said goodbye to Maverick today.”
“Yes, but--”
“We’re all in this together. We all chose to stick by you, now you need to make the same choice about us.”
The room fell silent. Faolan’s gaze was so severe that Rebecca struggled to maintain it. And yet, as much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew Faolan spoke the truth. The crew had made their choice, but she hadn’t. She’d never been able to accept the idea that anyone would knowingly risk their life for her; that anyone would care enough about her well-being to try to help her; that she wouldn’t, yet again, be abandoned and forgotten by those in whom she’d placed her trust.
But she hadn’t been discarded. The crew had willingly fought against the Elites for her. Even when faced with certain death, they’d stood by her. They’d all been wounded and nearly killed in that fight, and still they remained by her side, ready to do it again. If the crew could do this for her, how could she not do the same for them?
“I won’t leave, I promise.”
Faolan gave a curt nod and stood up, her stern mood quickly forgotten. “Good. Now, are you going to help me pack or what? Go into the closet and pull out Maverick’s bag. We’ll have to bring him something to wear other than a hospital gown.”
Chapter Four
“Holy shit! That’s not a house, that’s a freaking palace!” Aeden’s eyes had gone as wide as saucers as both he and Owen lunged toward the side windows of the SUV.
“Let me see! Let me see!” Trysten called out, struggling to cl
imb over them and get a peek at the monstrosity of a house they were driving toward. As the driveway curved and the building came into view of the windshield, Trysten became immobile, his jaw dropping nearly to the floor. The entire vehicle fell into silent disbelief.
Aeden hadn’t been exaggerating. The mansion looked more like a hotel than a house. Perched on the top of a small incline, the giant grand center section of the building, with its immense double-door entryway, could have fit Rebecca’s entire Cle Elum home inside of it. On either side, vast two-story wings extended out further than the eye could take in at once and, all along the front, massive windows reflected the fiery orange of the setting sun.
They pulled up in front of the mansion, parking behind the ambulance they’d been following since Portland. Everyone’s gaze craned upward as they stepped out of the vehicle and into the deep snow that surrounded the house. The vaulted ceiling of the entryway towered overhead, its v-shaped beams created by a split trunk that had come from the largest tree Rebecca had ever seen.
As she stared up in awe, a strong shiver passed over her. It was below freezing outside and, as remarkable as the house was, they would have to get inside quickly as the already frigid temperature was swiftly dropping with the setting sun.
The back doors of the ambulance swung open and Cailleach jumped out, marching straight up to the giant, wooden front doors. She produced a key from her pocket, unlocked one of the doors, and headed inside.
“We’ll have to carry him in, ‘cuz of the snow.” A man in his early twenties had sprung from the back of the ambulance and was working to pull the doors out of the way of the stretcher that stood inside. “Can you guys give us a hand?”
Rebecca had met him at the hospital. His name was John--a nice guy with a sweet smile. He’d told her he’d only been working as an EMT for two months now, which had made her feel slightly guilty about his involvement in their situation. She knew Cailleach would use her ability to ensure that there were no repercussions for John’s absence (or that of his driver, David), but it still felt as though they were taking advantage of these poor, unsuspecting men.
Liam, Owen, and Aeden stepped forward and helped the two EMTs extract the stretcher and carry it toward the house. Maverick was unconscious, a breathing apparatus secured to his mouth and an IV connected to his arm. Cailleach had told them that the bumpy ride would be too painful for him to face while conscious, so she’d administered enough anesthesia to knock out a horse. Judging by the way the men were struggling to carry his large frame into the house, it looked as though he weighed as much as one.
Rebecca, Faolan, and Trysten grabbed the bags from the SUV, loading themselves up with as much as they could carry, and followed inside. Once everyone was through the door, Cailleach closed it and quickly began leading the boys to a room she’d prepared for Maverick, down the western wing.
Rebecca dropped her bags and allowed her gaze to travel up to the soaring ceiling of the giant entryway, which appeared to climb higher than the tallest point of the forest before reaching its peak. Four colossal chandeliers made of antlers hung from the rafters, projecting a soft yellow-orange glow onto the stained wood that surrounded the room. The rustic décor imbued the grand room with a comfy, cabin vibe that made Rebecca feel immediately cozy. In fact, the whole house felt warm, and not just inviting, but a comfortable temperature.
“Nice place, isn’t it?” Cailleach remarked as she walked back into the entryway, followed by the boys. She smiled as she saw Rebecca removing her jacket and scarf. “I had my boss turn on the heating remotely so you guys didn’t have to sit in an icebox forever, waiting for this enormous place to heat up.”
“Oh, how fancy,” Owen proclaimed in a mock British accent behind Cailleach, as he too removed his extra layers.
“Maverick is situated,” Cailleach continued, ignoring his sarcasm. “He’ll probably be out for at least another few hours, but someone should keep an eye on him anyway.”
“I’m going out to do a perimeter check with Liam, as long as he’s up for it,” Faolan stated. She was the only one not taking off her coat and, after she turned to address Liam, he abruptly stopped and began refastening his jacket. “The boys will be in charge of moving into the house and preparing dinner. So that leaves you, Rebecca,” she said as she spun toward where Rebecca was standing against the far wall.
Without even glancing over, Rebecca could feel Liam’s angry glare fall upon her, waiting for her to respond. She wanted to say no, that she could help the boys move in; that Trysten, or Liam, or Aeden--anyone--would be better suited to watch Maverick. She’d rather volunteer to go back out into the freezing cold to do a perimeter check than go sit with Maverick. But she couldn’t. Faolan was in charge, and it was not Rebecca’s place to question her authority.
Rebecca nodded silently, lowering her distraught gaze to the floor.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Liam clench his hands into tense, angry fists and her heart sank. She’d done it again. She’d pushed him further away.
“Brilliant! Then I believe my work here is done,” Cailleach smiled. No matter how close she was to the group, it was clear she was ready to be rid of them and return to her freedom.
“We can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done,” Faolan professed, walking forward and, in a rare moment of affection, giving Cailleach a hug. “Someday, we’ll repay you.”
“Well, you can start repaying me right now by promising that none of you are going to nearly die on me again anytime soon,” Cailleach laughed as she handed Faolan the key and walked over to give each of the boys a hug.
When she reached Rebecca, she paused. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened that day.” She spoke softly, so the others couldn’t hear. “Maverick is alive--the whole crew is alive--because of what you did. Don’t forget that.” She leaned forward and pulled Rebecca into a tight hug.
“I’ll try not to,” Rebecca responded half-heartedly as Cailleach loosened her hold.
Just as Cailleach was about to walk away, she locked eyes with Rebecca. Her voice fell to a harsh, warning whisper, “If the Aillil attack again, it’s you who’ll have to save the crew. Only you have the ability to keep them alive. I hope you realize that.” Then, without waiting for a response, Cailleach turned and headed for the door, followed by the others. They called out goodbyes as she and the two EMTs climbed into the ambulance and drove away down the long driveway.
Left with a horrible foreboding building within her stomach, Rebecca walked out of the main entryway toward Maverick’s room, avoiding further contact with the crew.
Cailleach’s ominous words frightened her, even though Rebecca knew, deep down, they were true. If the Aillil attacked it would be up to her to defend the crew. She would have to unleash the dark power that haunted her subconscious, feel its intoxicating evil fill her body once again, quenching the desperate yearning that permeated through her, the primal urge to kill.
Terror gripped Rebecca at the realization of the evil thoughts swirling within her tainted mind. How could she think such terrible things? How could she long for such horrible actions?
Disgusted with herself, Rebecca crept into the room where Maverick lay unconscious. She stared at him for a moment, watching his breath fog up the breathing apparatus that was situated over his mouth, following his chest as it slowly rose and fell. He looked so calm, so happy.
A sudden urge came over her. Walking forward, she pulled the small, upholstered chair close to the side of the bed and sat down. Careful not to disturb him, she slipped her hand into his, interlacing his fingers with her own. His touch felt warm and comforting, like a blanket of serenity was slowly being wrapped around her. She gave his hand a soft squeeze as she leaned into the chair, holding on tightly as if she would never let go.
* * *
“Pack up, quickly!”
“Why? Why are we packing again? Where are we going?”
The man ran frantically through the small, dimly lit motel roo
m, gathering everything he could find and throwing it into the duffle bag that sat open on the bed.
“I don’t have time to explain. We need to leave, now.”
“No!” The young boy stomped his foot loudly, anger lighting up his bright green eyes. “Tell me what’s going on. Why are you so scared? Why are we always running?” His voice shook as he spoke, fear brimming behind his fury.
Finally, the man stood still, sighing heavily as defeat fell across his forlorn face. “Come, sit next to me.” The man took a seat at the edge of the nearest bed and gestured for the boy to join him.
The boy approached slowly, his anger rapidly replaced by a sense of dread.
“I’m sorry.” The man leaned forward and kissed the boy’s head, then pulled him into a soothing hug. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was trying to make all of this easier on you. I was trying to protect you from the truth, but it seems it was wrong of me to do so.”
The man pulled away, holding the boy out at arms length, their identical, emerald green eyes locked on each other. “I’ve told you what you are and about the people who you’re descended from.” The boy nodded. “What I haven’t told you is why I lost you, why you were raised without a family.”
“That doesn’t matter anymore. You’re here now. We’ve found each other and I won’t ever have to be alone again.”
The man’s shoulders slumped forward, his chest caving in with despair. He shook his head slowly, sorrow filling his longing eyes. “Unfortunately, it does matter. You see, the Aillil took you from me, from your mother, as soon as you were born. Because your mother was a human, she was deemed inferior, and therefore you were tainted.” The man paused momentarily, struggling to find the strength to continue.
When he spoke again, his voice was laced with anger and grief for what had happened to him, to his son, to the family that was stolen from him. “Aillil law states that a tainted child must never know their parents, or the truth of what they are. The rule is clear. If the Aillil parent seeks out the child, they must be killed.”
