Focus, she told herself. You have to focus right now, on her.
‘I’m Ardat Lili,’ the demon said. ‘But you can call me Lili.’ She glanced around her, and then looked down at the uniform again.
She shrugged her shoulders and the uniform transformed into a t-shirt and jeans so stylish it would make those same Queen Bees, drooling over the autumn collections they’d never see for real, weep and rush to Dundrum Town Centre to lay siege to their beloved shops until they restocked.
Lili shimmied, getting herself comfortable in her new clothes, while all the time studying what Izzy wore, calculating every detail, and when her gaze returned to Izzy’s face, the smile was even colder.
‘We’ve been wondering what you’re up to, Izzy. I can call you Izzy, can’t I?’ She flexed her perfectly and expensively manicured nails. They were painted gold and purple, the finish as glossy and perfect as the rest of her.
‘None of your business.’
‘Oh, but I think it is. I think it might be everyone’s business. Demons have a right to be included. Otherwise we get tetchy.’
Izzy swallowed hard. The only demon she’d dealt with had been Azazel, who had a connection to her family and a positively charming demeanour in comparison. She didn’t know what to do here. Helplessly, she glanced at Jinx, who was still caught up in the whole snarling and pacing, and not being a whole lot of use.
‘This is Grigori business,’ she tried again. Whatever the way out of this was, Izzy knew she couldn’t tell the demon about the Fear, the Storyteller’s Book, or the Shining Ones. So basically, none of it. Which was sure to be a problem.
‘Grigori? Why? Do you think Azazel will leap in and pull you out of this? He has no power over me. I have no need to protect the Grigori. You lot aren’t my concern. But knowledge is power. So spill, before I have to come over there and make you spill.’ She took a step forward. ‘All sorts of things.’
Another step. ‘Secrets.’
Step. ‘Blood.’
Step. ‘Intestines.’
Izzy bristled. ‘We’re protected.’
She laughed. ‘You’ve got to learn to draw a bigger circle than that. I mean, eventually, you’re going to need to sit down. Or, you know, you could just fall over.’
Beneath their feet the ground bucked and shook, rearing up and tossing them aside. Caught off balance, Izzy and Dylan were pitched forwards and fell, sprawling on the grass outside the circle. The knife flew out of Izzy’s hands.
Shades seized them, their grip cold but dry as old parchment, dusty and cloying. They wrapped themselves around her and she choked on them. She heard Dylan trying to fight, his struggles becoming strangled coughs. There was nothing to fight. Just smoke and shadows. Izzy couldn’t see him. They were both swallowed up in darkness.
‘Let them go,’ said Jinx.
The darkness parted and Jinx was there, naked in Aes Sídhe form, holding Izzy’s knife to Lili’s throat.
Not that Lili seemed in any way concerned.
‘Oh he’s so pretty, this one,’ she cooed to Izzy. ‘And foolhardy. Do you think you’re fast enough, dog?’
‘We can always find out. What do you want, demoness?’
‘To find out what Isabel is up to, what the angels wanted. Fair’s fair, after all.’
There could be no harm in that, could there? When Izzy thought about it, she was entirely reasonable. There was no need to panic. If it was Azazel she wouldn’t hesitate to talk. But this one, this Lili … she didn’t know.
No.
Charm, that was the thing. She was charming, using a spell, one that leached away healthy fear and even common sense. She was a devious one. And Izzy had almost fallen for it.
‘Where is Azazel?’ asked Izzy.
‘My questions first,’ Lili snapped. She was desperate, wasn’t she? And maybe Izzy could use some information to defuse the situation. Just a little. What was the harm in that?
She could think of so many potentially harmful outcomes, but she pushed them to the back of her mind. She had to. She was Grigori. There had to be a way.
‘There’s an angel missing. He’s called Haniel. The angels wanted to know if I knew anything.’
Lili stared, her black eyes flicking through her options. ‘Truly?’
The shades tightened their grip. Dylan gave a gasp of real pain. Jinx pressed closer with the cold iron knife. If she had been fae, Lili would be screaming by now. But she wasn’t fae. Though she hissed at him when the blade pricked her skin, she didn’t flinch.
‘Truly,’ panted Izzy. ‘That’s all.’
‘Very well,’ Lili relented and she sounded rather satisfied, which wasn’t comforting at all. The shades loosened their grip just a little, just enough so breathing was easier. ‘Haniel, you say. I remember him. A little scut if ever there was one. Well, here’s hoping it’s something unpleasant and permanent.’
Oh, it is, thought Izzy but she said nothing. Holly could be very permanent indeed. One angel wouldn’t stand a chance.
‘Shining Ones?’ Lili drawled, tasting the words, as if she’d overheard a snippet of conversation, as if she’d reached into Izzy’s head and plucked out the thought. Izzy stared at her, horrified. ‘Didn’t I mention I could do that? Silly me. So, what’s a—?’
Jinx struck, plunging the knife for her throat, but she side-swiped him before he could connect. The blow lifted him off his feet and sent him crashing back against the nearest tree trunk.
‘No!’ Izzy yelled, but it was Dylan who moved. Light burst from his skin, shucking off the shades like discarded leaves. He glowed with Silver’s magic, every pore bright. The shades screamed and recoiled. Even Lili staggered back.
‘What are you?’ she asked, her voice a drawn-out hiss of pain.
‘Leave her alone,’ Dylan said. His voice reverberated through the air, doubling back on itself in impossible harmonies. ‘Leave them both alone.’ The shades fled to surround Lili, forming a shield, a defence of wavering smoke around her. She glared at Dylan, ignoring the other two completely, her gaze like a predatory animal at bay. For a moment Izzy thought she was looking at a double exposed image – a beautiful girl, and something else, something of scales, horns and teeth, something terrible.
Behind the dark veil, Lili drew herself up to her full height, shaking off fear and preening herself back to perfection, hiding the cracks in her image.
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I have enough for now. We’ll meet again soon. Very soon, Isabel Gregory.’
And then, the demon and her shades were gone.
Dylan sagged forward, the light blinking out. He looked dazed and appalled, staring at his hands as if they weren’t part of him at all.
‘You okay?’ Izzy whispered, not sure what to say to him. Not entirely sure what had happened.
‘I’m … yeah. I think. Where’s Jinx? Is he hurt?’
Izzy ran to Jinx, who was already trying to pick his groggy and probably concussed body off the ground.
‘Was that Dylan?’ he whispered, his voice hoarse.
‘Yes?’ She wished it didn’t sound like a question but couldn’t help herself.
‘Silver’s powers, they’re getting stronger if they’re manifesting without her touch.’
She glanced back to Dylan, who looked pale and shaken, but otherwise unhurt. He too was picking himself up, with more success than Jinx. She could breathe again, could allow herself to actually ask the question. ‘Dylan, are you sure you’re okay?’
‘Yeah.’ He tried to grin, but it looked more like a grimace. ‘Fun times.’
‘Always.’ She tried to laugh, but couldn’t quite manage it. There were no signs of the light left on her friend. Silver’s magic might be kept inside him, but it wasn’t making another appearance right now at least. He seemed good. She’d have to ask Dad to check later. He’d know for sure – or then again, better not, given how Dad felt about the Sídhe. Dylan didn’t seem hurt at all.
But he didn’t seem right either. There was somethi
ng about him that was completely different. If he could manifest Sídhe magic as well as storing it, that made him even more than a human touchstone. She wasn’t sure what it made him. He’d been pinned down by demonspawn and yet he was unhurt.
What would the Sídhe say about that? She didn’t want to think about it.
Jinx on the other hand had a gash running across his forehead that was pumping blood, bright and glossy, so very red. His eyes had that unfocused look.
‘Grab his clothes and pass them over, will you?’ she asked Dylan. It wasn’t the first time that she wondered if there was anything quite so useless as shape shifting that left him naked and vulnerable afterwards.
Then her body caught up with the thought that here he was, naked and in her arms, and that excruciating embarrassment was back again with a vengeance.
‘Get dressed,’ she told him brusquely, grabbing the clothes from Dylan and shoving them at him.
‘Here, take this,’ Jinx replied, just as mortified by their position as she was. He handed her the knife, carefully turning it hilt first towards her, equally careful not to touch the iron. He wasn’t a fool, her Jinx.
And he wasn’t her Jinx either.
She relieved him of it and shoved it deep into her backpack again. One of these days, she was certain, she was going to end up having to explain it to a cop. She’d rehearsed excuses, but none of them sounded convincing. The best she’d managed was ‘it’s an antique’, and it looked far too sharp for that. Same with ‘it’s for cosplay’ and ‘it’s a prop for the school show.’ She really wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.
Jinx pulled on his clothes in silence. He was fast, practised, but he winced with every movement.
‘She was a demon, Jinx. Not one of the fae. A full-on demon, even if she looked like a girl. Would you have tried to hold Azazel like that?’
His eyes blazed. ‘If he threatened you like that, yes I would. You know that.’
‘Yes,’ she admitted, even though she didn’t want it to be true. Azazel would destroy him without a qualm. Izzy took his hand, squeezed it tight, even though she didn’t want to. At least that was what she told herself. ‘But don’t. Please.’
He studied her face for a moment. What he was looking for, she couldn’t say, but she wished she could lean closer and kiss him, wished he’d just lean towards her.
‘Here,’ she said, rooting in her backpack for some tissues. ‘For your head. You’re bleeding.’
He took them from her, his hand brushing against hers and she pulled back sharply. Too sharply.
The look of rejection on his face made her instantly wish she hadn’t. But it was too late. What else did he expect? Forgiveness? He’d dropped out of her life, left her without any explanation. He didn’t deserve forgiveness. ‘We should get going. We need to see your father. And quickly. Before we run into any more unexpected and unwanted company.’
The house looked much the same to Jinx as it had the last time he had come here with Izzy and Dylan, but this time there were lights on, and an unmistakeable presence that set Jinx’s nerves on edge, tingling with alarm.
The Grigori himself was in there.
Jinx didn’t like to think about the sudden instinctive response to that realisation, the way his heart pounded and his throat tightened. The fear reminded him too much of what he had been – Holly’s slave, and then Izzy’s slave. But he didn’t know if it was an inbred fae respect for the Grigori, or just that this was Izzy’s father.
But at the same time, he would do anything for her if she asked. Even go into this house with her when the Grigori was there.
Izzy opened the door and the unexpected smell of freshly baked goods assaulted him, making his mouth water and his nostrils flare.
‘I’m back,’ she called. ‘Dad? Mum?’
‘I’m in the kitchen!’ her mother shouted.
David Gregory came out of the living room, already talking to his daughter without seeing her. ‘She’s stress baking, Izzy. I didn’t tell her everything but she knows enough to—’
And he stopped. Staring at Jinx. His expression turning thunderous.
‘What’s he doing here?’
Izzy closed the door behind her and Dylan shuffled his feet. Jinx didn’t know what to say or do, so he just stood there, feeling awkward. Only Holly had ever made him feel quite so much like prey as he did in that moment. The Grigori’s gaze pinned him in his place like a spear.
‘He’s hurt, Dad. Hurt defending me. There was a demon.’
Concern drained the anger from the Grigori’s voice. ‘What demon?’
‘Lili … something. Or something Lili … Ardent? Or—’
‘Ardat Lili?’ He sucked in a breath, his jaw tightening. ‘Izzy? Was it Ardat Lili?’
‘Yes. Dad, she was waiting for us. Following us, I think.’
‘Did she see where you went? Did she find out about the book?’
Izzy shook her head and David Gregory sighed in relief. His eyes flicked furtively over to Jinx.
Was he still bleeding? He couldn’t tell. Right now he just wanted to lie down and close his eyes. His head felt like it would burst open like over-ripe fruit.
Izzy was still speaking, explaining what had happened. ‘It was after that. After we left you. After the Market. Silver—’
And suddenly he remembered why he was here. Not for Izzy, not for her father. Silver had sent him for a reason, for his own people. Silver needed him to do this, and to succeed.
‘Silver begs you to help us,’ Jinx interrupted. ‘She sent me here, as a surety, an ambassador, as hostage if you will.’
‘I’m not dealing with any of your kind, Cú Sídhe. I made myself perfectly clear.’
Yes, the only time they’d ever been alone together or spoken one-to-one, Izzy’s father had made himself perfectly clear. The hair on the back of Jinx’s neck came up in hackles. He opened his mouth to reply even though he knew this was all spiralling towards disaster. But he never got a chance to speak.
‘Oh, stop it, both of you,’ Izzy interrupted. ‘Dad, about the book. Haniel’s dead. Holly killed him. She’s doing a spell. Silver …’ She glanced at Jinx, who didn’t know where to look and so stared at the floor instead. ‘Silver freaked out. Who was Míl, Dad? Why does King Eochaid of the Fear think I owe him something?’
There was probably no moment quite as awkward in Izzy’s life as sitting there in the kitchen, watching her parents and Jinx.
‘The angels,’ Izzy asked at last. ‘What did they do? How did you get away?’
‘I didn’t. I negotiated. Carefully. Sometimes talking works so much better than fighting. Really. I’m trying to stop a war. Tell me everything you discovered. What happened?’
She related everything she’d seen, every detail. Holly, the broken cairn, Haniel’s fate. And the light, the trembling deep, deep underground. The gleam in Holly’s eye as she looked across the bay. The wire she had fashioned from whatever she’d drawn out of the earth after the angel’s death. Jinx sat in the chair beside her, fidgeting while Dylan sprawled on the couch, more at home than any of them.
‘Silver said that Holly isn’t just summoning the Fear,’ he told Dad solemnly. ‘That’s a side effect. She’s after something else. The old gods.’
Dad shook his head. ‘The Shining Ones? Not even Holly would risk raising that kind of power – it took a host to put them down the first time. It took a supreme sacrifice and a … a … it doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.’
‘It also took a Grigori,’ Jinx said. He fell silent again as Dad glared at him. Instead, he averted his eyes, clearly wishing he’d never said it.
‘What Grigori?’ asked Izzy.
Jinx looked up and met her eyes. The words came hesitantly and he kept his gaze fixed on her and her alone. ‘They called him Míl, the soldier. He was the first of you.’
‘It’s a myth,’ Dad said.
Jinx lowered his gaze once more. ‘If you say so, Grigori.’
�
�Of course I say so.’
‘Dad, don’t be a bully,’ Izzy told him. Although why she felt the need to jump to Jinx’s defence, she didn’t know. But Dad wasn’t being fair. He’d never talk to Dylan that way and Dylan was right there, equally in the firing line. She knew that much and it irked her in a way she couldn’t quite describe.
‘I’m not being a bully,’ said Dad. ‘Míl is a myth, a garbled pre-Christian version of the early settlers of this island, reverse-engineered onto history. Pseudo-mythology, not even the real thing. He was an origin for the Milesians. Míl Espáine, the soldier from Spain.’
She knew her dad was stubborn. She hadn’t picked it up off the stones in the road. But he wasn’t even listening to Jinx. That didn’t seem to bother the Cú Sídhe. Jinx acted like he was used to it and just ploughed on in anyway. Maybe stubborn infected them all.
‘He’s none of these meagre things to us,’ said Jinx. If he was trying to choose his words carefully, Izzy thought, he wasn’t doing a terribly good job of it. He was angry, that was the problem. Angry, but trying to be a good emissary. She squirmed on his behalf. He didn’t want to blow it, but he was struggling. She wished it wasn’t so obvious. ‘He was the first Grigori to come here. He split the island, or it was done in his name. All that stuff about Spain and the Milesians? I don’t know that. Time twists history to stories. But I know Míl was a soldier. What do you think the Grigori are?’
‘Soldiers,’ said Dad in a grim and equally angry tone. ‘We’re a little more than soldiers.’
‘If you say so. Míl aligned himself with Eochaid, King of the Firshee and one of our most powerful warriors. They were brothers in arms, sworn to each other. And Míl promised his daughter in marriage to the king. And he broke that promise. It was the same time that Míl and his magicians cheated the Sídhe. Your ancestor promised us that you would share this island, but instead of giving us a share of the land, he split it into two planes and exiled us to Dubh Linn. We made it our own, but in the beginning, in the very beginning, it was a ghost world, an empty rock, a shadow of this island. Míl cheated us, and he cheated Eochaid.’
A Hollow in the Hills Page 13
