by E. E. Holmes
And Lucida’s bewilderment vanished as the truth hit her in the face. She hesitated one brief, tremulous moment more, and then she gave me a tiny nod, and closed her eyes.
The moment that the two Callers began working together, it was as though every particle of energy in the air were suddenly suspended. The wind dared not blow. Not a single person in the watchful crowd twitched even a muscle. And high above us, the figures upon the battlements became as still as statues. The earth itself seemed to hold its breath as the power between the two women built and rose, and at last, burst forth.
Like a tornado of spirit force, ghost after ghost twirled and soared and shot into the air high above the castle walls, and then hung suspended, perfectly still, like pale stars. We all gazed upon them, a magnificent constellation in the late afternoon sky, and then as one they rose up like a flock of birds and, allowing the wind and the salt air and our collective exhalation to rush back in and reclaim the stillness.
A storm of activity broke out all around us. Caomhnóir on the grounds, rushing to the gates of the príosún and trying to secure the perimeter. Up above our heads on the ramparts, Caomhnóir were coming to their senses and a mess of confused fighting broke out as they turned on the Necromancers and traitors amongst whom they now found themselves. Council members were running through the throngs on the ground, shouting in confusion and attempting to gain control of the situation, still unsure who was friend and who was foe in the battle now raging above.
Hannah and Lucida both seemed completely oblivious to the chaos as they opened their eyes, and the first thing that they gazed upon was each other. An ineffable something passed between them, an understanding that no one else standing upon the castle grounds that day could ever comprehend. Then they turned from each other without a word, unshakable in their understanding that the rebellion was over, and that something that had seemed irreparably damaged between then had begun, very slowly, to heal.
20
Horizon
“SO… I WENT TO AN ACADEMIC conference in Paris for three days and you got arrested, staged a prison break, and thwarted a Necromancer coup that threatened the very existence of the Durupinen as we know it?” Tia’s voice came through the phone in an almost unintelligible squeak.
“That about sums it up, yeah,” I replied cheerfully. “Oh! And I rode in a helicopter, on purpose.”
Tia sighed. “I clearly can’t go anywhere ever again.”
“Imagine what I could have gotten myself into if you’d been gone for a week?”
“I’d rather not, actually,” Tia said dryly.
“So how was the conference? How did the presentation go? Did all the medical people love your paper? Did you do doctor things? Were you awarded a golden stethoscope?” I teased.
“You have no idea what people at medical conferences do, do you?”
“Not a clue. But please tell me. I want to hear all about it!”
“I can’t believe you want to hear about a bunch of people reading research about meningitis and the surprising new benefits of gene therapy after the weekend you had. Everything must still be in shambles over there.”
This was true enough. It had been only a day and a half since we had arrived back at Fairhaven, and the castle was in a general uproar dealing with the aftermath of the uprising at Skye Príosún. Though I knew that the challenges were far from over, it was hard to feel anything but hopeful that we would fight our way through the aftermath. The main source of that hopeful feeling was currently running his fingers through my hair and planting kisses on the top of my head.
“When will you be back?” Tia asked.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “There’s going to be a hell of a lot of Tracker paperwork on this one. Are you okay there at the flat without us?”
“I think I’m going to stay on campus for a bit, actually,” Tia said. “The work will be a good distraction, and I met some great people at the conference.”
“That’s a great idea,” I told her, glad that I didn’t have to feel guilty for abandoning her, at least for the moment. “Call me later tonight, okay?”
“Yeah, I will,” Tia said. “Think you can stay out of trouble until then?”
I looked up at Finn and grinned. “I make no promises.”
I hung up the phone. “Sorry about that. Just had to check in with Tia.”
“Apology not accepted. Your lips were otherwise occupied for entirely too long,” Finn said, and leaned forward to kiss me.
My entire body seemed to transform into a sigh of contentment. I wasn’t sure how long the euphoria of being together again would last, especially once the realities of the legality of our relationship set in, but for the moment, I could not bring myself to care. I would bask in this moment for as long as I damn well pleased.
I pulled away from him.
“I wasn’t done kissing you,” he complained.
“And I’m not done looking at you,” I replied. “I can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to open my eyes and you’re going to be gone again.”
“Not a chance,” Finn said softly. “Never again.”
There was a knock at the door, and then Hannah walked in, followed by Milo, who looked at the two of us like we were a viral YouTube video of puppies wearing sweaters.
“Are you going to gawk at us like that every time you see us together?” I asked him, amused. “Like, your face literally just morphed into a heart-eye emoji.”
Milo shrugged, completely unabashed. “Stop being so cute and I’ll stop gushing. Until then, I will haunt you with my heart-eyes.”
Hannah was quick to close the door, however, and threw a nervous look out into the hallway as she did so. “Obviously, I’m thrilled that you’re back, Finn, and nothing makes me happier than seeing the two of you together, but… aren’t you nervous that you’re going to get in trouble?”
“I don’t think you’re taking into account the theory of relativity,” Finn said.
“Relativity?” Hannah repeated, looking confused. “You mean, like, Einstein?”
“In this case, I mean the severity of one crime as relative to another. When a considerable number of Caomhnóir have colluded in a plot to join forces with their most deadly enemies, it turns out that the Council doesn’t pay much attention to the Caomhnóir snogging his Durupinen girlfriend,” Finn said with a lopsided grin. “It’s like being a jaywalker in a sea of shoplifters, really. It’s all relative.”
Hannah gave an anxious chuckle. “Well, yes, I know, but even so, someone is bound to complain.”
I sighed. Despite the previous day’s conversation with Celeste, Hannah could not shake her fears that Finn and I were going to be torn apart and locked away for the crime of daring to look at each other. I knew that, for the time being, at least, this would not be the case.
I did not realize that the day prior, when I had met with Celeste. On the contrary, I was absolute weak-kneed with fear about what would face me when I entered the High Priestess’ office, Finn by my side.
“I did not summon Mr. Carey yet,” Celeste said upon watching us enter.
“I realize that. But I need him here,” I said, trying to keep the defiance in my voice to a bare minimum and failing spectacularly at doing so. “Anything you need to say to me, you can say to him.”
Celeste’s eyes lingered on our clasped hands, but she seemed to decide to ignore it, for the moment. She sat down behind her desk and clasped her hands pensively. “How are you both, then? It is my understanding that neither of you were injured in your escape?”
“We’re fine, thank you,” I said. Finn nodded once in agreement but did not speak. His fingers were like iron bands around my hand. I flexed my fingers gently and he took the hint, relaxing his grip.
“The first reason I wanted to ask you here, was to thank you, Jessica,” Celeste said. “I will forever be grateful, as will the generations of Durupinen to come, for what you risked entering that príosún. I believe that you may have foiled the single mos
t dangerous attack on the Durupinen since the Prophecy came to pass.”
“You’re welcome,” I said stiffly.
Celeste shifted in her chair. “What I’m trying to understand is why you and Catriona neglected to tell me about the situation in the first place.”
I did not answer right away, choosing instead to prolong the inevitable by asking a question in turn. “Does Catriona usually inform you before making decisions about the cases she handles as a Tracker.”
“Generally, no,” Celeste admitted. “But these were far from typical circumstances, and this was far from a standard case. I think you know that.”
“We didn’t want word to spread to the Caomhnóir of what our plan was,” I said. “We didn’t know how far or high the Necromancers had infiltrated into the ranks. We were scared of tipping them off before we could find out what was going on.”
“I am not a Caomhnóir,” Celeste said. “I am the High Priestess of the Northern Clans. Surely, you did not believe me incapable of keeping such information a secret.”
“No, of course not,” I said, a bit abashed.
“Then I can only assume that your real hesitation came from this,” Celeste said, and she reached into her desk. She extracted a piece of paper and spread it across the desk between us.
My heart skipped a beat. It was my Seer drawing. Beside me, Finn seemed to have stopped breathing.
“Where did you get that?” I asked in a strangled whisper.
“Catriona gave it to me,” she said. “She did not do so willingly, but as a last resort. She was asking me to mount an enormous attack upon the príosún. I would not do so without clear evidence that it was necessary. This was how she convinced me.”
I closed my eyes and let out a breath I’d been holding since the drawing had appeared on the table. This was it, then. The secret was out. I felt an unexpected sense of relief. Whatever happened now, the crushing weight of this secret was gone from my shoulders. I almost didn’t care what happened next.
“I need to know why you did not bring this to me right away,” Celeste said, and her voice faltered on the line between trying to assert her authority and express her motherly tendencies. The result made her sound hurt and worried, rather than angry. It was this, perhaps, that made me answer the way that I did.
“Come on, Celeste,” I said quietly. She perhaps should have bristled at the informal use of her given name, but she did not. It seemed to soften her, to tear from her shoulders for just a moment a mantle that served only to separate two women who were trying to understand each other. “You know what my family has been through at the hands of Council members who let their fear guide their actions. What would the Council have made of this? What might they have done to me, in their desperation to get to the bottom of it? What are they likely to do now, when they realize what I can do?”
Celeste sighed. “I’m not sure I can answer the first two questions, except to say that your fears are not unfounded, and that it would have been quite easy, when faced with such a dire warning, to allow fear to overwhelm reason. We have done it before, and there can be no doubt that we will do it again. As to the third question, that I can answer with complete confidence. The Council will do nothing now, because I intend to tell them nothing.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, did you… did you just say that you intend to tell them…”
“Nothing,” Celeste repeated firmly. “Not a word.” And she took the drawing from the desktop and flung it onto the fire.
“I… that was a really nice gesture, but you know I made about a hundred of those, right?” I said breathlessly, watching the familiar image burn with a thrill of relief.
“Burn them,” Celeste said. “Burn them all. No one else need ever know that they existed.”
“But—”
Celeste put up a quelling hand. “There are days when I stare down the responsibilities of this job and despair, because I feel that I no better know how to handle them than a child. In those moments, I look to those around me for guidance, and I look to the past for wisdom. Sometimes, they yield little. Today, they yield me everything I could possibly need to know. We cannot move forward if we are stuck in the past. We cannot progress if the foundation upon which we stand is crumbling away, and we cannot allow fear to continue to mold and shape what we become in the future.”
I watched her face, so tired and strained of late, transformed with a calm that can only come from absolute peace and confidence in her own decision. I could feel the calmness radiating from her, slowing my own pulse and relaxing the tenseness that had my body tied up in knots since the moment I’d entered her office.
Celeste went on, “Your gift as a Seer is useless to us if we abuse it. It is also useless to us if you are so terrified that you hide it from us. Therefore, I make one simple request of you.”
“Which is?” I asked hesitantly.
“To use your discretion. When you feel that a vision places any of us in clear, imminent, or preventable danger, that you will bring it to me, and me alone,” Celeste said. “Otherwise, I trust you to interpret and act upon your visions as you see fit.”
“I… I can do that,” I managed after stumbling and stuttering for several seconds.
“Thank you. I know that the trust between us has been broken as of late, and I know that it cannot be easy for you to put that trust in me now. And so, on that note, I would like to apologize to you,” Celeste said, and then she looked directly at Finn. “To you both.”
Finn and I glanced at each other, breath held, unsure of what was coming.
“Our laws, while well-intentioned, are tearing apart the very people they are trying to protect, and that has never been clearer to me than today. The laws have forced boys into roles for which they are ill-suited, broken hearts of those who would only seek to love one another, and driven a deep and damaging wedge between the Durupinen and Caomhnóir. It must change.”
Finn’s hand tightened around mine. I felt that I could have heard his heart pounding, if my own had not been making such a racket.
“Your sister is working on a piece of legislation that could change all of that,” Celeste said. “And while I cannot single-handedly decree that it shall pass, I want you to know that I intend to throw my full weight behind it.”
“Thank you,” I told her. “Thank you so much.”
“I am glad this new law could lift an undue burden from the two of you, but its effects will be much more far-reaching. It will mean a great upheaval to our system. It will be met with great resistance on all sides, but I believe, after the events of yesterday, we all must surely see that it is time for change. The Durupinen and the Caomhnóir cannot work together to protect the spirit world with such animosity bubbling between us. We must find a new way forward.”
I looked at Finn, who smiled at me. “We agree,” I said. “And we will help in the fight.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Celeste said. “And to that end, Mr. Carey, I would like to offer you a new posting.”
Finn sat up straighter in his chair. “What’s that, High Priestess?”
“I have asked Seamus to temporarily oversee the investigation at the príosún. It is an enormous job, and one that needs to be handled by our most trustworthy leaders. He has graciously accepted, and that leaves us with a gaping hole in our leadership here at Fairhaven. For that reason, I would like to ask you to oversee the training of our Novitiates.”
Finn’s jaw dropped. I had never seen him so lost for words. After a few stunned seconds, he shook his head and cleared his throat. “I would be honored, High Priestess, and will do my utmost to live up to the expectations of such a crucial role.”
“I know you will,” Celeste said, and she smiled at him. “Seamus saw great promise in you when you were in training, and I know he would approve. You have certainly proven your deep commitment to your duty, especially in light of your bravery yesterday. I know our Novitiates will be in capable hands.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Finn m
uttered, inclining his head.
“Thank you both,” Celeste said. “We’ve quite the challenge ahead of us, forging a new path. I am glad we shall be working together.”
§
“Oi, you lot,” Savvy cried out, busting into our room without knocking.
“Hey, Sav,” I said. “I’d tell you to come in, but…”
“Oh,” Savvy said sheepishly. “Right, yeah. Sorry. Got a little carried away. I was looking for Finn. Thought he might be in here.”
Finn raised a hand in greeting. “And so, he is,” he replied.
“Yeah, from now on I’m pretty sure you’re just going to find him permanently glued to Jess at the mouth,” Milo teased. I threw a pillow at him, which of course sailed right through him and onto the floor.
“Wondered if I might have a word with you, mate,” Savvy said, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “In private, like.”
Finn raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Of course,” he said, looking puzzled, but jumping up from the bed anyway. “Let’s talk in the hallway, shall we?”
“Yeah, cheers, mate,” Savvy said, and gestured for him to follow her.
I watched the door close behind them, and turned to Hannah. “What’s that about, I wonder?”
Hannah shrugged. “Who knows? I’m just glad to see her out and about. I feel like she’s been doing nothing but moping in her room. Not that I blame her.”
“No changes in Phoebe, then?” I asked.
Milo shook his head sadly. “I’ve been visiting every day, sometimes twice. No Gateway.”
“I’ll check on her again when I head down to see Fiona,” I said.
“Have you been able to find out anything about her condition?” Hannah asked, her voice anxious. “Those burns… they looked so bad.”
I shivered, the sounds of Fiona’s screams echoing in my ears. “All I know is that she’s stable. That’s all Mrs. Mistlemoore would tell me.”
“I have to admit that when we found out we were Durupinen, I didn’t think we’d be spending quite so much time in hospital wards,” Hannah said.
