Deviate

by Tracy Clark

  His head bowed, nodded. “I should perhaps trust you for your cruel honesty,” he said, looking up at me with a wry smile.

  “I promise to always be honest with you, G. You do the same and we’re good. Deal?”

  “Deal.” A flicker of something passed over him, so quickly I might have mistaken it for a secret.

  Twenty-Four

  Finn

  “You said that my triple spiral tattoo was apropos. Now you’re saying that Brú na Bóinne is pertinent to our history? My mother took me there constantly as a lad. I loved the spirals, loved the zigzags and art all over the rocks. She used to tell me that she felt like there was a message in the spirals for our family, but that’s all she would say. Maybe it was all that she knew.”

  Saoirse lifted an auburn eyebrow. “I’d venture she knows more than that.”

  “Aye. Perhaps. She hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with information. I got the tattoo because I loved the mystery of the triple spiral and thought it was cool. Even as a child, I knew that ancient site was magic. Please tell me what you know.”

  Talking about the spiral brought Cora to mind. We’d spoken of it. Bumps flared on my skin with the thought of how she yanked open my shirt and ran her tongue over my tattoo. I clenched my jaw. My last message to Cora was my good-bye. That there was an end to the tale of the triple spiral. If she understood, then she’d believe I was dead now. It was probably for the best.

  My chest and stomach curled in with the ache of heartsickness, so much so that I bent forward with pain. I took a breath, straightened, and focused back on Saoirse.

  “You all right there?”

  “I am, thanks. Go on.”

  “My mother told Lorcan and me that it was the origin, the birthplace for our kind. Well, not just our kind. But also those others they were talking about last night.”

  “Scintilla.”

  She nodded emphatically. “Mmm-hmm. Mother says we conquered the Scintilla as we were meant to, claiming their powers and Newgrange as our own, ruling there for centuries after.” Her eyes took on a faraway glaze. “I like the sound of that, ruling, as if the Arrazi descend from nobility.”

  “I don’t call conquering noble,” I said, thinking hard about what she was telling me and feeling both irritation at the arrogance of some Arrazi families and excitement in my chest. “If we came from the same place, that means we somehow coexisted at one point. Or,” I said, my excitement deflating, “do you think the Arrazi came from someplace else?”

  “Originally? I don’t know. But there are a lot of us around here. If you placed a bull’s-eye map over top of Brú na Bóinne, you’d see that the closer in you get to it, the more concentrated are the Arrazi families.”

  It was information, but not information that was going to tell me how to cure us of our need to kill, or how to save the remaining Scintilla. I rubbed my forehead. “Your mother’s work—with the Society—what is that about? Why are they out to eradicate the Scintilla?”

  She shrugged. “I’d always thought her work with them was for the advancement of our kind. She’s always talking about research the Society is paying for. Honestly, last night was the first I’d heard of trying to find any remaining Scintilla and killing them. Listening to it was appalling if you didn’t know what we were, or that they’d always been our natural enemy.”

  “They’re defenseless. How can they be our enemy?” I scoffed.

  “My mum was right. You haven’t been told a thing about your Arrazi heritage, yet you seem to know an awful lot about the most mysterious part of that heritage. It is as if you’ve known one personally or something.” Astutely, she stopped talking and let me sit in the pause uncomfortably long.

  “They are more of the magic my mother told me about as a kid. I thought she was making up stories…” Beads of sweat rose on my upper lip. I hoped she wouldn’t notice.

  “Do you think there are any left?” Saoirse asked. “My mother says that one drop of their energy will give us extrasensory powers.”

  A nervous laugh. “Did she? Superpowers, eh? Now who’s making up stories?”

  “You don’t wonder what your sortilege would be?”

  “I only wonder how to stop us from having to take energy from others at all.”

  Brows pinched together, she looked at me. “That’s like saying you’re going to find a cure for breathing. There is no cure.”

  We finished our drinks and walked around aimlessly until I had to get going. I planned on reinserting myself into my job at the pub so I could keep an eye on Clancy. I suspected he’d not refuse me. We were watching each other, no doubt.

  The ride back was not unlike any other “first date,” with Saoirse telling me about her school, and cello lessons, and dreams of travel. She surprised me by talking of learning to navigate by the stars and wanting to charter a boat someday to take herself around the Caribbean.

  I pulled up to the Lennons’ home. Ultana Lennon did very well for herself. My mother said she’d never been married, that she knew of. I wondered what she did to earn the spectacle of a mansion.

  A chill fingered up my back as I opened the door for Saoirse. Her mother approached from inside the house and called out to us. “Back so soon?”

  I stuffed my hands in my pockets and tried not to tip back and forth on my feet. The woman made me bloody edgy. “Aye, work, ma’am.”

  “And where are you employed, Finn?”

  “My uncle employs me at his pub.”

  She tsked and narrowed her eyes while stepping closer. “Your family is intent to keep you small. Have you ambitions?”

  We held eye contact. I couldn’t help but feel that something depended upon my answer. “I have ambitions, Mrs. Lennon.”

  “Good.”

  I cocked my head. That was it?

  “I have a marvelous idea!” Ultana exclaimed. “There’s a party coming up. My family and I will be there along with many other distinguished families in the area. Why don’t you attend with us? You can chaperone Saoirse, and I’ll introduce you to people who might help you up a rung or twelve from that haybarn of a pub you’re working at.”

  “Mother. I’d planned on going alone to the—”

  Ultana’s head whipped back to her daughter. The look she gave was venomous. “Nonsense. What could you be thinking?” She didn’t wait for an answer but returned her gaze to me. “Join us. It’s an annual fund-raising bash. The best, most exclusive party in the city, I guarantee.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’d love to come.”

  “Of course you would.” Ultana breezed past Saoirse as if she weren’t there and entered the house.

  Saoirse crossed her arms and glared at her mother’s back. “I’ll get you a mask.” When she saw my confused look, she said, “Anonymity is preferable to many of the guests, so it’s a masquerade party. All of the Society’s parties are.”

  Twenty-Five

  Finn

  The night of the party, I was told a car would be sent to pick me up.

  The driver, gruff and looking more like a bodyguard than a chauffeur, came to the door. “I take it this isn’t your average party?” I joked, looking past him to the limousine parked in front of my house, though I had known it wasn’t an average party when I’d been instructed to wear a tuxedo. The driver gave a small smile, tight and a bit lopsided from a scar that hooked his lip up below his nose.

  The car door was opened for me and I slid in next to Saoirse, who looked very pretty in a green satin dress. Except, all I could think was that the emerald of her dress was so like Cora’s eyes. Lorcan strained the seams of his tuxedo. Ultana had on an odd black dress that reminded me of Victorian England with its poufy shoulders and lace and ruffles. “My favorite era,” she remarked, when she saw me looking her over. I was sure I couldn’t care less, but I smiled anyway.

  Everyone had elaborate masks over their faces. Saoirse handed me a simple black one to put on. Her own was made of teal and green peacock feathers. Her eyes blended eerily into th
e circles within the green feathers so that it nearly looked like multiple pairs of eyes staring at me.

  I wasted no time on my mission. “Ultana, you said this party is a fund-raiser for the Society. What does the Society use the funds for?”

  “You’re a stickybeak,” Lorcan snapped. “Mind your own business.”

  “Now Lorcan,” Ultana admonished him, “Finn is smart to ask questions. It’s only natural to be curious when one has been kept ignorant for so many years.” I fought to keep myself from reacting. “The Society has many investments and interests. It takes a great deal of money to fund some of their more philanthropic work.”

  “Philanthropic? Like killing the Scintilla?”

  “Enough,” she said, throwing the word down like a gavel. I could see she was used to being able to wield her words that way. She turned toward the window. “Excellent turnout,” she said of the long queue of people waiting to get inside Christ Church. I expected the limo to pull into the string of cars dropping masked partygoers at the entrance, but it continued west, past the church, and turned onto a narrow side street off Saint Michael’s Hill.

  “Where are we?” I asked when the limo pulled over.

  Ultana smirked. “Hell.”

  “Don’t let her vex you,” Saoirse whispered after her mom climbed from the car. “She’s only referring to this place’s history. Used to be a seedy place known as Hell. This is where the gate was,” she said, pointing. “At the entrance, there used to be a wooden statue of the devil.”

  “Brilliant. The gates of Hell overlooked the church?” I asked, surprised I’d never heard this lore about my city before.

  Saoirse patted my cheek, mockingly. “Aye, dear Finn. Maybe the devil and God like to keep an eye on each other.”

  I followed the Lennon family up the sidewalk, under an arch, to a plain, unmarked door. Ultana pulled a key from her pocket and unlocked it, ushering us into a small entryway with a flickering square light in the ceiling. The sounds of Dublin traffic abruptly ceased when she slammed the door shut, and we began walking in single file through the narrow passageway.

  The floor descended sharply like a ramp, which led down under the streets of Dublin. The sound of rushing water ran nearby. We kept close together as we walked downward until the ramp leveled out and we arrived at another door. Ultana pushed a small button, like a doorbell, and within moments, a robed church official opened the door, ushering us into a private room within Christ Church. With a meaningful look, the man handed Ultana a folded piece of paper, which she read, saying only, “A gracious invitation, indeed. Please convey my acceptance,” before stuffing it into her skirt pocket. We were then shown to a private door leading to the party in the crypt under the church.

  I couldn’t help but wonder how she garnered such privilege.

  Twenty-Six

  Cora

  “How you gonna get in?”

  Mari’s question poured more anxiety into me, making my nervous level rise to where I thought I couldn’t hold any more. “This ring is the only key I have for getting into that party.”

  “I feel sick to my stomach,” Dun said, with a groan. “How do spies even handle this kind of stress? I think I should go in with you for protection.”

  “Dun, you’d stick out like a sore thumb, even with a mask. I keep telling you, the remarkable way you look…not a good idea, even if Clancy hadn’t already seen you and fought you in that hotel lobby.”

  Everyone stuffed belongings into our backpacks. After Clancy’s attack, we agreed that we should never be without the essentials, especially on a day like today. The plan was for them to drop me near the church and then wait for me at a nearby pub.

  When Giovanni slouched on the end of the bed next to where I was packing, I smiled to try to ease his worry, and maybe my own. It was useless. I could only think of one thing. “If anything happens to me tonight—”

  “Cora,” Giovanni said, imploring me not to finish.

  It had to be said. My tongue felt coated with ash and I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “If it does, I’m counting on you. I need you to take my mother and my family—our family—and get out of Ireland.”

  “Blimey,” Patrick said as we neared Christ Church in his cab. “There’s a long chain of swanky cars up ahead.”

  “Drop me here,” I said. “I’ll walk up to the door.” My knees felt weak after I paid him and slid out. Like Mari had practiced with me, I lifted my chin and did my best confident strut down the sidewalk, or, as confident as I could in those heels. I knew I looked like a giraffe on roller skates. Honestly, death by stilettos might be preferable to what I feared could happen if Clancy was inside that church. My plan was to stay out of sight and if Clancy somehow spotted me, to make him believe I’d been invited by the Society. My bluff had worked the night of our escape from the shack when I’d told him that people from the Society were on their way. He’d been shocked that I knew about them. Maybe it’d work again.

  I shivered and cursed Mari when the breeze hit my bare back. An Irish breeze is always cold as midnight sea spray.

  People lined the walkway to enter. I eyed the crowd, then slipped behind an elderly couple. Maybe it would be assumed I was their granddaughter. Every cell in my body flared with apprehension when people flashed their invitations to the serious-looking man at the door. He didn’t just inspect the invitations; he used a scanner and held the paper up to it. When he ran the scanner over the paper, triangles came into view. I was right! The symbol on Clancy’s ring and on the ring I unburied was the symbol for this secret society. One that Clancy had warned was an even greater enemy than he was.

  How crazy was I, to march straight into the enemy’s camp? I saw no alternative. In order to disarm one’s enemy, sometimes it was necessary to head to the front lines.

  My chest rose and fell unnaturally fast as the guard nodded his approval and the couple passed him and went inside. I had no invitation. This wasn’t going to work. My palms and pits were soaked. His eyes roamed from my studded silver heels, past my wobbling ankles, and settled on my eyes. “Miss, I cannot possibly—”

  Desperate, I flipped my palm over in a dramatic gesture of fake confidence and showed him the gold ring with the symbol. He paused, pulled my hand toward him, and scrutinized it.

  I sighed impatiently, trying to affect the bored, entitled stance that spoiled celebrities give. Finally, he gave me a reverential bow and ushered me through the door.

  I thought I was going to faint before I even got through it.

  A series of turning stairs led me down into the primeval crypt of the church. People going up the stairs passed me and nodded in greeting. Thank God for the mask to hide behind. Too bad that anonymity went both ways. I wouldn’t clearly see the faces of my enemies.

  Color surrounded me and I turned awkwardly on my heels, scrutinizing the crowd. The partygoers couldn’t hide their spirits behind a mask. Auras wafted around people’s bodies as they mingled, drank, and danced. I had to be careful not to get caught up in the kaleidoscopic beauty of it. The air above the party was like the aurora borealis. I scanned the room for pure white auras. No one glowed with the conspicuous all-white of an Arrazi, but that could be misleading as they only glowed white when they had recently killed or taken from a Scintilla.

  When I asked my mother why they turned all white when they killed, she said she didn’t know for sure, but she always believed that it was the absorption of all wavelengths of color from another’s aura that temporarily illuminated them to white. It seemed a cruel joke that the color most often associated with innocence and purity was actually the consuming black hole of a human killer.

  I did as my mom instructed and took deep, calming breaths. As I blew out, I imagined a pole from the crown of my head, down the middle of my body, and out my feet. This was supposed to root me. The more grounded I was within myself, the more I’d be able to feel the energy of others. If I couldn’t see the danger of an Arrazi, perhaps I’d feel it, sense it.

&
nbsp; Arches of stone blocks curved around the twelfth-century crypt. I hid behind one. It was cold to the touch, and I whipped my hand away when a wisp of indiscriminate history bubbled from the surface toward my hand. It was the first time I felt it coming. The last thing I needed was to get hit with a memory, become a woozy spectacle with spontaneously erupting tattoos, and draw everyone’s attention. Apparently, this place had once been everything from a city market to a tavern. There was history here so palpable, I felt it within a foot of the walls, strong enough to raise goose bumps. I slunk around the arches for cover but stayed wary of them as well.

  Conversations I overheard were mundane for the most part, limited to surface party chatter and pretentious egotisms. An influx of guests arrived. My toes tapped to a Nat King Cole tune as I hid and watched, then I froze completely as an aura of white came into view. A throng of people blocked the Arrazi so that I couldn’t get a good look. They pressed in like adoring fans, auras blending into one collective mound of insistence for the Arrazi’s attention.

  I moved away from the wall to the other side of a vaulted archway. From the center of the colorful group, like she was the wick and her white aura the burning flame of a candle, stood an older woman. I studied her from behind the stones and from behind my mask.

  Most of the women, I’d noticed, had elaborate, feathered masks like a flock of birds. Her mask was fashioned out of something that looked like black chain mail that curved down her cheekbones. She wasn’t young, but her presence was demanding. Everyone seemed to treat her like royalty. I studied her odd Victorian dress and her necklace made of dozens of tiny locks. It had to be heavy. It made my hand instinctively fly up to the key beneath my sheath dress. How strange; an Arrazi with locks—a Scintilla with a key.

  This woman looked like she’d stepped out of another time. Her blinding white aura was alarmingly strong, as if she lived off a steady diet of murder. The only weakness in her aura appeared near her left hand, where it was more of a chalky smudge. I realized there was a phantom aura of a hand—like the spirit knew only her wholeness—but her arm hung limply at her side, stationary and unanimated.