TIED (A Fire Born Novel)

by Laney McMann

  My mother shook her head. “But, I knew it would only be a matter of time.”

  I had no idea what to say. My life had become a series of lies and betrayals thrown into a hungry lion’s cage. All my life, she could have told me.

  “Who are you?” I asked, as thoughts of Benny rattled in my head. Celtic Gods, Demon Vampyres, a race of Ancients, Fae. I knew almost nothing about any of them, but as my mother sat looking into my eyes, I realized she did. She knew everything—everything I didn’t know.

  My mother bowed her head. “I am a descendant of the Triple Goddesses of the Tuatha Dé Danaan. As are you.”

  My mouth opened and closed again. I rubbed my temples and glanced at Max, shifting off him and leaning forward.

  “Lorelei, you know I’ll continue to protect Layla with my life. I could never hurt her. My grandmother told me the Fire Born could destroy each other—if they got too close—if they weren’t careful, but I promise you, we’ll be careful. No harm will come to her. You have my word on that.”

  She glared at him, her calm demeanor dissolving. “You speak of not what you know, MacKenzie. Did you not hear what I said? Have you any idea what awaits you? Both of you? The Raven lives within Teine. Any hope I had to the contrary is gone. You are the Fire Born pairing of Legend, I have no doubt.” She buried her eyes behind her hands. “This is not a game. You have no chance.” She pushed up to her feet. “This is your fate.” A tear rolled down her face. She wiped it away. “You cannot survive what is coming. Let each other go. It is the only way.” Her gaze swept the room. “I am sorry, Teine. Truly, I am. I have done all I can. If you wish to continue on this fool’s errand … then forgive me if I do not watch you destroy one another.” She turned and walked toward the front door.

  “Ms. LaBelle.” Benny spoke in a tentative tone. My mother stopped. “You know how this works. Layla and Max are the Fire Born, just as Legend said they would be. I will continue to protect her, and she will always be under my watch, but Max is her true guardian now.” She sounded sincere but not apologetic.

  My mother gave a curt nod, without turning. “I am aware of that.” She glanced at me with a heartbroken smile and walked out the front door.

  I looked over at Max

  He stared directly back at me, eyes darkening. “I’ll be coming to school with you. The boys will keep watch over the campus—it’s only a few more days until summer break.” He grabbed my hand. “I want you to stay here. With me. You’re safe here. I don’t care what the Legend says.”

  I tried to find my voice, but all I could muster was a shaky nod of my head.

  He cupped my chin with his hand. “We will fight whatever comes at us together.”

  “Lorelei’s not going to be on board with Layla staying here,” Benny said.

  Max whipped around. “It doesn’t matter what Lorelei is on board with! She walked out.” His anger shocked me out of my stupor. “I’ll protect what’s mine!”

  Benny raised her hands palms out. “You know Layla is safe with me, too, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  Max relaxed slightly, dragging both hands roughly through his hair. “I know that. Thank you.” He glanced toward the doorway. “Tristan, Justice, I need you to watch the skies. Layla and I need to leave for a while.”

  They both took flight without hesitation.

  “Leave for where?” Benny asked Max.

  “My grandmother’s. The boundaries around her house are secure. We’ll be safe there, too.”

  What?

  Max glanced at me. “There are boundary lines around all of our houses, including yours and your school.”

  Of course there are.

  “Why your grandmother’s?” Benny scowled. “You’re safe here.”

  “My grandmother has answers—answers we need. So, unless you know everything there is to know about why Layla and I have been given a death sentence, we’re leaving.”

  When Benny didn’t respond, I glanced away, out through the window and into the sky, where I knew the Scaths had to hang like impending death, and instead of heat, chills cascaded over my shoulders.

  “We’ll be at my grandmother’s if you need us.”

  19

  I glanced out through the car window toward the sky as Max squealed the tires, leaving the garage. Scaths floated like sheer draperies thousands of feet above the ground, surrounding the house. Hundreds of them.

  “Are you sure the boundary lines will hold?” I asked, noticing a slight bluish tint encircling the car.

  “Tristan and Justice will make sure they do.” Max’s jaw clenched, his color resembling parchment paper. “In the full flood of the afternoon light, the barriers are invisible.”

  Focusing back on Max, I had no idea what type of mark the Leanaan Sidhe would have left on him. Benny assured me his symptoms were only temporary, but as I looked at him, I wasn’t so sure.

  “There are only two of them up there following us,” I said, pulling my gaze from the obvious loss of blood in Max’s face and up toward where Tristan and Justice flanked the car.

  He lifted an eyebrow as if I should’ve known better. “Scaths don’t see what we see. The Fallen have a kaleidoscope-like effect in flight—what appears to us as only two gargoyles appears to them as hundreds. The boundary is sound. Scaths won’t rush in and attack.” He ground the car into third gear, skidding off his road and onto US-1, before taking a deep breath and resting his hand on my leg. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Lay. Your mother is wrong.” He shook his head. “She has to be.”

  I laid my hand over his, entwining our fingers.

  I hope so.

  • • •

  Purple wisteria draped the trellises in a tangled mass along Ms. MacLarnon’s house, the hazy morning sun throwing the vacant front porch into shade.

  “She’s probably walking around the neighborhood.” Max laid down on one of the chaises, losing more color by the minute.

  “At this hour? It’s what … six o’clock in the morning?” I glanced around the porch, the yard.

  “She always walks in the morning.” He rested his arm over his face, covering his eyes.

  I sat down beside him, eyeing the bite marks on his neck—stark red, contrasting his gold skin—and tried not to boil. “Do these still hurt?” I traced my fingers down the wounds, swallowing my anger. It took all the control I could muster.

  He flinched, knocking my hand away, an odd red gleam flashing across his grey eyes. “Sorry—I’m sorry.” He grimaced and shivered. “I’m not a good patient.”

  I laid my hand on his forehead. “You feel like ice. It’s ninety degrees outside.” I motioned toward the back door. “Will your grandmother mind if we just go in and get you something to eat?”

  He got up slowly, toppling back before self-correcting.

  I grabbed his arm. “Are you okay?”

  He rubbed his temples. “Yeah, it’s just my head. I keep getting these sharp pains.”

  “Come on.” I led him inside.

  The interior of Ms. MacLarnon’s house smelled of old wood and wax candles. Sheets of morning light cascaded through beveled window panes, creating a warped spectrum of rainbow colors that ran up and down cream colored walls and across mahogany wood floors. Random knickknacks lined unorganized, dusty shelves, anchored at various crooked angles along the walls. Ornate Victorian furniture crowded the spacious rooms, while plush rugs in mismatched patterns of reds and purples, spread over the floors.

  The kitchen stood at the back of the house overlooking the garden of roses. Off-white Formica counters stood out against oak cabinets. Above the stove, an antique copper plaque hung by a badly frayed hempen cord. The engraved letters, surely once a rich golden copper, were hued in deep dirty bronze patina. I walked to it and ran my thumb across the inset.

  Max stopped next to me, his mouth stuffed with blueberry pie. “It’s ancient Irish,” he said through crust and filling, his demeanor slightly improved.

  “Yeah, I know.” The blackened cop
per came off on my thumb. “You feel better?”

  He shrugged. “You won’t be able to read it. Do you want me to? I’ve never really paid attention to what it said.”

  I rubbed my fingers together, smearing charcoal-like soot across my palm, and peered closer clearing my throat.

  “How sweet old Eire lies-

  Seas of green and forests roam.

  Sweet cherished memories-

  Summoning the heart to lead them home.”

  Max grinned, eyes wide.

  A blast of bright light flooded the kitchen from the hallway. A tinkling of bells rang through the house.

  “What is that?” I shaded my eyes from the receding glare, peeking through parted fingers to find dancing light shivering up the walls, sparkling like minute, sun-filled crystals.

  The sound of bells drifted closer, soft and airy, like wind chimes blowing on the wind. A sheer purple light shimmied across the floor from the kitchen’s beveled glass window, the color bleeding into iridescent lavender as laced wings flickered.

  I turned, as Ms. MacLarnon limped into the kitchen, leaning on her cane, her silvered hair in a neat twist at the base of her neck. Long amethyst crystal earrings hung from her sagging earlobes.

  “MacKenzie, my child, are you all right?” The expression of shock must have been obvious on both of our faces. She held her hand held out. “Did you call me?”

  “Grandmother?” Max gaped, voice breaking.

  “Yes, dear?” She pulled his head down to her eye level. A low hiss escaped her lips as her wrinkled fingers traced the bites. “Where is the creature now?”

  Max rose to his full height and backed away from her.

  “Who?” He glanced toward me, as though his grandmother had somehow missed me standing in the kitchen.

  “Not Teine, child. Where is the creature that did this to you?” Her eyes flared, deep purple tingeing the green.

  “Who are you?” His nostrils flared.

  Ms. MacLarnon leaned on her cane, and pushed herself upright, peering at him from under long purple eyelashes, each one ending in a different colored jewel at its tip. Lacy wings of sparkling lavender and cream erupted from her shoulder blades and rose to touch the soaring ceiling. Her heavily lined face morphed into a cherub-like orb, cheeks and mouth flushed rosy, fairy wings fluttering at her sides.

  Max’s pie fell on the floor, scattering blueberries across the wood.

  My jaw dropped, confusion and revelation overtaking me simultaneously. “She’s your Bean Tighe. Like Benny is mine.” My voice reflected my awe. “Your guardian.”

  Max backed up until he rammed into the counter. “What?” His voice trembled as his gaze froze in the direction of his grandmother’s changed form. She stood in silence, still tiny in her petite frame, emanating an all-knowing energy.

  I reached for Max’s hand. “She couldn’t tell you. Like you said about Benny, she must be bound by the Fae.”

  “How do you know that?” he asked, unmoving.

  I squeezed his hand. “It makes sense. We’re believed to be the Fire Born of Legend. Benny’s my guardian. Someone had to be yours. Ms. MacLarnon fits. She’s been protecting you, Max.”

  He shook his head. “But … I’ve been protecting you, Lay.” He swallowed. “The Fomore were after you … that’s what your dad … the light—I mean, I don’t need protection. You do.”

  What?

  Ms. MacLarnon ambled forward. “My child.” She patted his cheek. “I am sorry I startled you. And in your state as well.” A trace of fury flashed in her eyes again. “I did not know you were stopping by today. I heard the call and answered it.” She glanced toward me. “It is good to see you also, Teine.”

  “And you.” I inclined my head, taking in Max’s Grandmother’s astonishing transformation. Is this what Benny really looks like?

  “You read the call?” she asked, motioning toward the plaque above the stove.

  “I did. I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

  She waved her hand. “That is all right child; you had no way of knowing its power.” She hesitated. “I’ve never been called back home.”

  Max stood still as a statue.

  “I don’t understand,” I said, unsure of her meaning.

  “Only those under guardianship may call a Bean Tighe. Usually their own. I have never been called before. It was a bit of a shock.” She shook her wings. “The trip back home was quite uncomfortable, really, a bit like being pulled through a straw, I would imagine—although I’ve never been pulled through a straw …” She glanced down. “I haven’t assumed this form in many years. Forgive me for scaring you both.”

  Max’s position hadn’t shifted, his gaze glued toward his grandmother.

  A startling thud shook the back porch, followed by a rapping knock on the door. “Grandma Mac?”

  Ms. MacLarnon rolled her eyes, assuming her human form mid-step as she hobbled over to the backdoor. Tristan stood in the threshold when she opened it, peering past her. “Yes, Tristan. Is there something you need?”

  “I just … I heard … I saw … I was checking on the situation, is all.” He shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s my job, you know.” A hint of irritation seeped into his tone.

  “Don’t you take that tone with me, boy. Now get in the house and stop causing a commotion on my porch.”

  Tristan hurried inside without another word.

  “Where is your brother?” she asked him.

  “He’s … um, he’s …” Glancing over his shoulder toward the fireplace, his eyes betrayed his thoughts.

  Ms. MacLarnon made her way into the living room, mumbling under her breath. “Boy, you get out of there, or I’ll be in there to get you out!”

  Justice appeared by her side moments later, covered in soot and ash. “Sorry, Grandma Mac, we heard something odd, and it crashed through the boundary. Everyone here’s safe, then?”

  “Do we look safe to you?” Ms. MacLarnon shook her head and turned away from him. “That was me you saw crashing through the boundary. Teine”—she waved her hand in my direction—”called me back home. I scared them both to death.”

  “You knew?” Max erupted from his dazed state, lashing out at the brothers and moving out of his frozen position against the counter. “You both know what she is?”

  Tristan bowed his head, while Justice seemed intent on inspecting one of the knickknacks closest to him. “We gave our word,” Tristan said. “Sorry, man.”

  “Sorry?” Max’s face drained of the color it had left. “As if hearing Layla and I were cursed to kill each other wasn’t enough.” His glare swept toward his friends. “Now, you’ve been lying to me?”

  I touched his shoulder. “Take it easy. They probably couldn’t tell you, and your grandmother is elderly.”

  He yanked away, rounding on me. “Elderly?” His eyes went wild, like someone else’s eyes. “Layla, she’s a Bean Tighe. She’s not elderly at all. She’s young eternal. A shape-shifter, remember? This is the form she assumes!” He stomped toward the front door.

  “MacKenzie!” Ms. MacLarnon’s yell stopped him, but he didn’t turn to face her. “Enough with this behavior. We have more concerning matters than my appearance or the Legend.” She sat down and tapped the empty space beside her on the couch. “Sit.”

  I stood helplessly as Max’s shoulders slumped, and he spun back, sinking down next to her.

  “Teine, please have a seat.” She motioned to the empty chair across from her.

  I did as she asked, feeling like an intruder listening in on a private matter.

  “Boys, go eat a snack or something.” She swatted her hand at them.

  Max bowed his head, rubbing his temples.

  She patted his back. “I apologize for deceiving you. I have made choices to ensure your safety as well as Teine’s. Now …” She sighed. “I am here. Perhaps not exactly as you expected, but here, nonetheless. You are a son to me. That will never change.” She exhaled. “We can discuss this at fu
rther length later if you wish, but at this time we have more pressing matters that need tending.” She scooted closer toward him and placed her hand on his neck. “Boys! One of you bring me my potions.”

  Max wrenched from her grasp. “Potions?”

  “Yes, and you should have come to me straight away. The curse a Leanaan Sidhe leaves can be fatal.”

  A gasp escaped my lips.

  “Had you not come here, you could have died within days, perhaps hours.”

  Tristan hurried in, holding a wooden box engraved with strange carvings. Most of them I’d never seen before, but one I recognized: a miniature version of The Tree of Life carved in perfect detail, its reaching limbs and root systems encasing the entire box in intricate brown lines.

  The lid creaked as Max’s grandmother opened it and removed various vials of strange colored liquids, pouring them into a tiny glass bowl. The stink of spoiled raw meat wafted through the air.

  Max wrinkled his nose. “You’re not pouring that on my neck.”

  “Of course I am. Now, sit still.” She tugged his head to the side, exposing the bites.

  Max closed his eyes, his forehead scrunching up as if he were expecting some type of torture.

  His grandmother took a thin glass rod, dipped into the liquid, and dabbed the wounds. A layer of what looked like ice crystals formed across the surface of his skin, leaving an opaque film.

  He jerked away. “Ow!”

  “You leave that alone.” She batted his raised hand down. “We need to withdraw the poison she implanted.”

  “Poison?”

  Ms. MacLarnon nodded. “And other things.”

  Other things?

  She reached for another potion-filled vile, cautiously uncorked it, and dripped a single drop of purple liquid onto each of the bites. Smoke rose as an acid foam ate the skin away. Max writhed, muffling a scream with his hand.

  I sprang to my feet. “Stop!”

  Justice ran from the kitchen, Tristan at his side. “What are you doing?”

  Ms. MacLarnon gave them none of her attention as Max’s body convulsed, jumping in spasms.