Dark and Stormy

by Shayne Silvers

  “But, you said—” Oberon began.

  “We lied,” another woman interjected, seemingly materializing from the light. She wore a pale blue shift to match her eyes—the color of clear skies on a summer day. Her hair was flaxen, her skin sun-kissed and freckled. She had a warm, nurturing smile, but her eyes betrayed something altogether less pleasant, less predictable—like a storm about to break on a cloudless afternoon.

  “I don’t understand,” Oberon growled. “Why would you lie to me?”

  “Times change,” the dark-haired woman said. “Allegiances shift. Ye were put in power to keep the Queens in check.”

  “But ye have forsaken your role,” the blonde admonished, continuing where the other left off. “By joinin’ together with the Queens to stop an enemy, ye have disrupted the balance of this realm.”

  Oberon’s eyes glittered with anger. “I’ve done as I must. The Tuatha de Danaan are no longer here to protect the Fae. What would you have us do? Accept our fate as slaves?”

  The dark-haired woman’s eyes narrowed, and I felt every hair on my body stand up all at once, my pulse spiking as adrenaline rushed through my body, as if being near her were enough to kick my fight-or-flight response into hyperdrive.

  I ground my teeth. “Does someone want to tell me what the fuck is goin’ on here?” I asked, no longer content to stay silent.

  The blonde shifted her attention to me and smiled, gently. “We’ll be with ye in a moment, niece.”

  I felt my heart skip a beat. Niece? What the fuck was she talking about? I opened my mouth to ask that very question when I felt the blonde’s energy wash over me. My heartbeat began to slow, the tension in my body fading. I sighed, suddenly content to wait until they wrapped up their little chat. I had all the time in the world, after all. Didn’t I?

  Wrong, a voice whispered in the back of my head.

  I shook off the various sensations warring within me and backed away from the trio, keeping all of them in sight, prepared to lash out should anyone make a move to touch me. I wasn’t sure how or why, but the two women were clearly using magic, magic which ignored my field completely. The idea that anyone could fuck with my mood—my mind—sent a shiver up my spine.

  “Tell me who ye are,” I demanded, though I sensed the ridiculousness of that; I was still shackled, after all, and hardly a threat.

  The two women exchanged glances. Oberon, meanwhile, looked tense, as if expecting a fight at any moment. Given the tone of their conversation up to this point, I wasn’t surprised; the two women certainly hadn’t sounded pleased with the Goblin King.

  “I mean it,” I said, again, glaring defiantly at them all.

  “Well, it’s nice to know stubbornness is an inherited trait,” the dark-haired woman said, smirking.

  “She looks like her ma, too, don’t ye t’ink?” the blonde added, studying my face as though it were a painting and she was trying to determine the precise pattern of the brushstrokes.

  I fought down the urge to lash out at their mention of my mother—a knee-jerk reaction I’d had ever since grade school. Instead, I took a deep, calming breath. “Seriously,” I said, “I wish ye two would stop talkin’ gibberish. I’ve had a long day.”

  “Oh, you’ve had a long day?” the dark-haired woman asked, eyebrow raised.

  “Badb,” the blonde chastised. “Don’t tease the girl. It’s not her fault we’re in this mess.”

  The dark-haired woman, Badb, heaved a sigh. “Fine, ye talk to her, Macha. Morrigan always listened to ye more, anyway.”

  Macha, the blonde, snorted. “Except when she didn’t. Remember the war with the Fir Bolg?”

  “Who the fuck are ye?!” I yelled, interrupting the two women, my frustration boiling over completely. My shoulders slumped immediately following my outburst. I was tired. Tired of being in pain. Tired of having to repeat myself. Tired of being ignored.

  Tired of fucking Fae.

  And it didn’t help that there were obvious similarities between us—the blonde’s upturned nose and her sister’s slightly lopsided smile.

  Because that only seemed to indicate that this was not, in fact, some elaborate hoax. That they really were…

  My aunts.

  I perked up a second later, however, as something rippled in the air—a veritable heat wave. The two women turned to face me at the exact same moment, like marionettes, their gazes flat and unreadable. “We are the sisters,” they said, in unison, the timbre of their voices harmonizing, echoing throughout the throne room. Frankly, it reminded me a lot of those little girls holding hands in The Shining, and I wasn’t remotely okay with it.

  “I’m Macha,” the blonde said, her voice bright and clear—like the plucked string of a violin. She rested a hand on her chest. “Your mother was me sister.”

  “And I’m Badb,” the dark-haired woman interjected, folding her arms over her chest, her raspy voice like autumn leaves rustling against one another. “Welcome to the family.”

  I shook my head, scowling, trying to grasp what these crazy bitches were telling me. The names rung a very distant bell. More fairy tales. Badb, Macha, and…Morrigan. The three sisters who, combined, represented the Morrigan—a deity and member of the Tuatha de Danaan. Perhaps one of the most powerful members, if the myths were true. Which meant, if what they were saying was true…

  At that precise moment, pain—sudden and vicious—tore through my body. My bracelet, no longer content to simply irritate my skin, seared my flesh. I could smell it—the scent of cooked meat. I fell to my knees in pain, but found Macha there, kneeling beside me, peering down at the shackles. She waved a hand over them and they unlatched, falling to the floor with a clang. Macha’s eyes went wide as she noticed the source of my distress.

  “What is it?” Badb asked.

  “Somethin’ dangerous,” Macha replied, guardedly, her melodic voice strained. She gritted her teeth and reached out, pressing a finger against the white-hot metal. In an instant, the pain was gone, and the bracelet had returned to normal—room temperature at most. Macha pressed her hand against my forehead as if I looked feverish, and I felt her magic wash over me once more.

  I jerked back. “Stop it.”

  Macha sighed, but nodded.

  “She always did t’ink she knew better than us,” Badb said, staring down at the bracelet.

  Macha shot her sister a look, which Badb ignored. “Not the time,” Macha said.

  Her sister shrugged.

  Macha rose, drawing me up with her. I realized she was shorter than me—they both were. And yet, now that I knew to look for it, I could see the physical similarities between us. The slope of their cheeks, the cast of their noses. I frowned. “Are ye tellin’ me that the Morrigan is…” I asked, my voice a hushed whisper.

  “Was,” Badb spat.

  “Your ma, aye.” Macha replied, glaring at Badb. “Although, technically, your ma was not the Morrigan. Morrigan represented one third of our power. She was extremely powerful in her own right, but only together are we truly unstoppable.”

  “I don’t understand.” I said, struggling with a whole host of questions, the most pressing of which loomed in my mind so large that I couldn’t even begin to answer it on my own. “If she was one of ye, then why did she die?”

  Oberon, who I’d completely forgotten about, hissed through his teeth, eyes wide. “Morrigan is dead?” The sisters, however, ignored him entirely.

  “We didn’t understand how it happened either, at first,” Macha replied, meeting my gaze. “When we first began to realize Balor had returned, we sought each other out. Badb and I reunited and then went lookin’ for your ma. We hadn’t heard from her in a long while, however, and it took time.”

  “She was always runnin’ off doin’ t’ings we could never understand,” Badb added, looking putout. “D’ye know how annoyin’ it is to have a sister who can see into the future, but never explains herself?”

  Macha grunted, clearly agreeing with her sister. “Later,” she continued,
“we learned she’d left our island for the Americas. That she’d given up her immortal form to bear a child. A girl.”

  “But, why would she do that?” I asked, struck by how ridiculous that sounded. “I mean, is that like a rule or somethin’? That to have a child, ye have to die?”

  Macha shook her head, but clearly had no answers to offer.

  “She wouldn’t tell us why,” Badb replied. “As usual.”

  “Wait, ye talked to her?” I asked. “When? How?”

  Macha glowered at her sister, but smiled at me. “We spoke to our sister, aye. But not your ma. There is a fragment of her power out there, locked away in the Otherworld. She’s nothin’ but a ghost, compared to the original.”

  Someone who looked like my mother, but wasn’t…a ghost, haunting windows. I felt a jolt of recognition. That was who I’d met. The goddess who’d given me the bracelet. The goddess who’d sealed away my power for the second time.

  “Why now?” I asked, a sneaking suspicion dawning.

  Macha frowned. “What?”

  “What is it ye want?” I asked, skirting around her towards the door.

  The sisters exchanged looks. “We need ye,” Macha said, gently. “We have an obligation to stop Balor and his army, like we did before. But we can’t without your ma’s power.”

  That made me hesitate. “But she’s dead,” I asserted.

  “Aye,” Badb replied. “But she passed the power on to ye, that much is clear. Or else we would have felt her go.”

  “But this isn’t just about power,” Macha added. “It’s also about family. It’s obvious your ma wanted ye to find us. To join us.”

  “Oh, and how is it obvious?” I asked, the gnawing suspicion growing. These two had no idea I’d spoken to my mother’s ghost—for lack of a better term. That I’d seen them before in my dreams—seen how she’d turned her sisters away, warning me in the process.

  Macha smiled. “Well, your accent, for starters.”

  “Me what?” I asked, utterly thrown.

  “Surely ye found it odd that ye talk the way ye do, given where ye were born and raised?” Badb asked.

  I nodded, scowling. Of course I’d found it odd—I’d lived my whole life in Boston, getting teased and picked on for talking differently than everyone I knew. Hell, I’d even had to defend it to my teachers, many of whom claimed it was impossible for me not to learn the language of my peers…as if I’d chosen to speak this way. Assholes. “Aye, me accent…but—”

  “It’s like she wanted ye to find your roots, to return to the Emerald Isle,” Macha interjected, eagerly, her own accent rich lilting.

  “To find us,” Badb added.

  “To take your rightful place at our sides,” Macha finished, with a flourish.

  Bullshit. Total and utter bullshit. But at least now I knew for sure; my aunts were full of it. Not about the accent—although that sounded far-fetched at best. But the idea that my mother wanted me to side with them against Balor was blatantly untrue. If she had, she would have sent them to me directly. She would have told them about the bracelet. About my cage.

  “I’m afraid I can’t help ye,” I said, finally.

  Macha’s eyes narrowed. “And why not?”

  I shrugged. “Whatever power ye t’ink I have, I don’t.” I held my arms wide. “If I did, d’ye t’ink I’d even be here? That I’d let a bunch of filthy goblins take me prisoner?”

  Macha frowned, considering that, then held out her hand, eyes closed. A moment later, she gasped, eyes fluttering, her face betraying the anger I’d always suspected was there, lurking beneath the surface.

  “What is it?” Badb asked.

  “Her power’s been sealed away. No wonder we couldn’t find her,” Macha snarled.

  “Sorry to disappoint,” I said, grinning. “But I’m guessin’ your sister wasn’t the least bit interested in me helpin’ ye, or she’d have told ye how to unlock the cage she created.”

  The two sisters stared at me, wide-eyed.

  “Aye, now ye understand where we stand, ye and I.” I glared at them both. “No one uses me. D’ye understand? No one.”

  “Oberon,” Macha snapped, the Goblin King’s name falling from her mouth like a meteor striking the earth. Oberon, who’d watched our little reunion with no small amount of interest, perked up, spine straightening like a butler who’d been caught slouching.

  He sneered, clearly displeased to be addressed so casually—and at his instinctive bodily reaction to it. “Yes?”

  “Escort Quinn to her cell. If she needs time to process, we’ll give it to her. In the meantime…” she strode towards me, forcing me to retreat. But suddenly Badb was there, hands firmly on my shoulders, locking me in place with her magic; I began to sweat, feeling feverish. Macha approached with a snake-charmer’s smile, leaned in, and planted a kiss on my cheek—her lips so cold they practically burned. “Let’s see how long it takes for those walls of yours to come crashin’ down,” she said, enigmatically.

  Badb rested her head in the nook of my shoulder from behind, delivered her own kiss—though this one actually did burn. I jerked away, but she slid closer, whispering in my ear, “Just know, every moment ye delay, Balor gets closer. He’ll ravage your city, first. Mortals will call it a storm, but it will be like no storm they could have ever imagined. His army will hit Boston like a tidal wave and drown every last soul until he finds his way into Fae. He wants his eye back, and collateral damage means nothin’ to him.”

  I felt a whisper of a premonition hit my gut; she was telling the truth. And, what’s worse, I knew it for a fact. I’d been hearing about it for weeks, after all—the storm of the century, barreling towards the coast. Which meant Balor was coming, his hate so vast he’d cultivated a storm so fierce it could wipe away the entire eastern seaboard, his power at the center like the eye of a hurricane.

  Ah, irony.

  “T’ink about it,” Macha said. “If ye want to save your city, ye will join us. Once ye do, ye can take your rightful place among the Fae. Together, we can fix this realm.” She glanced over her shoulder at Oberon, whose mouth hung partially open in disbelief.

  I frowned. I was a lot of things: morally ambiguous, a heavy drinker, a scrapper…but I wasn’t, and never had been, a team player. And I certainly wasn’t interested in a maintenance gig of that magnitude. Hell, back when I was a kid, I remember a few of my fellow classmates had insisted on becoming the next President of the United States, and even then, I’d thought they were crazy; who the fuck wanted a job with those kinds of stakes? Whether or not she realized it, of all the things Macha could have offered me, she’d picked the least appealing. “Alright, Your Majesty,” I said to Oberon, shrugging Badb off. “Lead the way. I find the company here severely lackin’.”

  I left the throne room and the lure of power.

  And I didn’t look back.

  Chapter 27

  Oberon hurried after me, pumping his little goblin legs to keep up as I descended the stairs. At the bottom, I briefly considered making a run for it—leaping overboard and swimming to freedom—but quickly realized it would be a lost cause; I’d be caught in no time and soaking wet for my trouble. So, instead, I waited for The Goblin King to catch up. Oberon stepped alongside, not the least bit winded, staring out at his fleet with a frown on his face. “Follow me,” he said, eventually.

  We moved freely across the ship, Oberon’s lackeys so committed to their tasks that they barely took notice of their king as we passed by. Either he was known for walking about the ship, I decided, or he’d trained his underlings not to bow and scrape in his presence. Regardless, I appreciated the lack of fanfare; I sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to be stared at. Frankly, I wasn’t in the mood to do anything but be left alone.

  “That was an unwise thing you did back there,” Oberon said. “Refusing to cooperate, I mean.”

  “Aye, well, there’s no Quinn in Team,” I quipped.

  “What?” he asked, glancing back up at me over his should
er.

  “Nevermind,” I replied, with a sigh.

  The Goblin King’s head swiveled back around, and we continued on in silence. At last, we came to a hatch. Oberon reached down and pried it open, lifting the massive steel door with hardly any effort, and proceeded down a ladder into the belly of the warship. “They won’t let you say no,” he said, the instant I joined him at the bottom. Above our heads, lightbulbs flickered down a narrow corridor.

  “I’m not interested in rulin’ over anyone, least of all the Fae,” I said, realizing I meant it with every fiber of my being.

  “It’s a thankless job, I’ll admit,” the Goblin King said, snorting. “But that’s not what I meant.” He waved me along, and we continued our trek.

  “What did ye mean, then?” I asked, already fed up with our conversation.

  “I meant they won’t let you keep a third of their power,” Oberon said, almost a full minute later. He halted, forcing me to stop as well. “They put on a show for you. Playing mortal. Macha, the fair Fae Lady, goddess of nature and order. And Badb, the Crow Goddess, avatar of war. What they offered you, however, was not power, but subjugation. They were your mother’s right and left hand. But she was the brain. She called the shots, and they resented her for it, even then. Why do you think she left?” He turned to face me, his grin wild and savage beneath the glistering lights. “They will take from you the power they’ve always wanted, and you will have no way to stop them. That’s why your mother kept you from them.”

  “And how would ye know?” I asked, dubiously.

  “Because, she and I were close, once,” the Goblin King replied. “You look very much like her, you know. Only taller.” He stared up at me, leering. “Tall is good. I like tall.”

  “And what is it you’re tellin’ me this for, then?” I asked, scowling. “I don’t suppose ye have an alternative in mind?”

  Oberon shrugged. “If you joined me, we could save your city. Between your power, and my fleet, we could chase Balor and his army back into the depths from whence he came.”