by Alex Temples
Unfortunately, times were different back then and you didn’t tell just anyone you were gay. After he’d told me, we’d sat on the kitchen floor, crying together and talking. He’d come out to his parents the year before. His mother, being both Catholic and from a time and place when women listened to their husbands, had simply tried to ignore it.
His father had taken it harder, refusing to believe his son could be gay. He’d approached Tomas’s confession with anger and hostility, hence the tight rules they had imposed on the poor kid. He’d been to conversion therapy before we’d met. That was when he’d begun acting out in school.
Apparently, his parents had backed off him a little bit after we’d started spending so much time together. Tomas thought his parents were hoping we were interested in each other romantically. That was why they weren’t home when we kissed in the kitchen. Unlike most parents of middle schoolers, Tomas’s parents very much hoped their kid would get naked with a girl if given the opportunity.
I’d been disgusted when he told me. Then, after further consideration, we’d realized as long as they thought Tomas and I were dating… It made his life a lot easier. Since I hadn’t any interest in boys at that age, we’d remained attached at the hip. It was him, me and sometimes Sam, when she wasn’t playing volleyball. Tomas and I went to homecoming and prom together. We studied most days after school, went on school trips together, and shared many hobbies.
After watching us closely for six months, Tomas’s parents noticed his grades going up. He never spoke to his parents about his sexual orientation again, and simply let them assume what they would. They decided to assume we were dating. As he got older I’d covered for him when he was out with a guy. He got good at living a double life. Then, on the day of our high school graduation, he told me he was joining the military. I’d almost missed them calling my name for my diploma. I’d never have thought he’d follow in his father’s footsteps.
But, that’s what he does now, so many years later. Tomas works at the Pentagon, doing some sort of intelligence work. He spent years overseas in special forces, here and there doing things he couldn’t tell me about. He was still officially in the closet, but everything else about him had changed over the years. The skinny, awkward boy I’d known back then had transformed into a strikingly handsome man. His 6’ 3” frame finally filled out in his early twenties and he spent hours a day adding more muscle to his already sculpted frame.
He hadn’t been able to make it to Paris for Sam’s shower because of work, but he’d laughed on the phone with me for a few hours as I regaled him with tales of Sam unleashed on Paris. We both agreed that city would breathe a collective sigh of relief when she left. I’d promised to visit him this summer and hadn’t yet, so he gave me crap for that and told me if I wasn’t there before September, he was going to come find me, New York, Dublin, it didn’t matter. He’d find me.
I smiled to myself at the thought of Tomas showing up here in Dublin. Maybe when I was done here, after I had a chance to figure out what Tristan needed me, I could spend some time with my grandmother and then stop by Washington D.C. on the way back to New York. Shivering now, naked as I was standing in the middle of the drafty bathroom, I figured it was probably time to get dressed.
I’d really been looking forward to a bubble bath and a long night of sleep. Oh well. I guess the bath would have to wait. I toweled off quickly and spent a few minutes blow drying my damp hair. It was probably chilly outside and I didn’t want to catch a cold. After donning heavy black tights, a wool skirt and a silk blouse, I slid into my black pea coat, hoping it wasn’t raining too heavily. I hadn’t thought to pack anything waterproof and the umbrella wouldn’t fit into my carry on.
Even though it was still early fall, it had been drizzling and cool when I landed. The halls of the little bed and breakfast were quiet as I made my way silently to the front door. Hopefully i wouldn’t wake anyone. The front door creaked as I pushed it open and I cringed, pausing a moment to listen. The house was silent.
I glanced out at the dimly lit street to see if anyone was about, but the world outside was still asleep. The pitter patter of rain beat down on the faded cobble walkway. The streetlights glowed softly, casting shadows over the quiet, stone rowhomes lining the street. Dublin is a bit depressing when it rains, I thought, sliding the key into my pocket and risking one more glance behind me before stepping out into the night.
Fog rolled over the empty streets, licking at the ground, then swirling away before disappearing into the blackness. As I walked towards Temple Bar to meet Tristan, I feel a surety of purpose I’d rarely experienced before the whole fae mess, before I’d met Aiden. That was one good thing to come out of our brief tryst. For the most part, I’d always liked my work. I’d just felt as if I were missing something. Now that I understand the value of fully accepting who I was, I finally felt comfortable in my own skin. Aiden gave me that. I felt a flicker of sadness at the thought that I might never see him again, but I pushed it back and resolved to focus on the positive.
I glanced around, taking in the eclectic collection of shops and restaurants lining the banks of the River Liffey. This city felt right. It fit me somehow. It was a proud city, one that had experienced its share of tragedy and heartbreak, and yet had lost none of its own spirit. After all the tragedy in my life, I’ve come to realize what Aiden knew all along, that I’m the only one I can truly rely on. If I couldn’t find strength in myself, no one would ever willingly lend me any.
We worship the strong, you see. We lust after them. We follow them into battle. This is truer for the fae than anyone else. Over the last few months, I’ve tried to stop searching for answers outside myself.
Yet, here I was in Dublin, searching for my grandmother. I knew I didn’t want to go back to New York, back to the lab, I just didn’t have the heart to tell anyone. What I needed was a change of scenery. New York felt different now, sadder, and I finally understood why my father had decided to move us from Colorado to Manhattan after my mother died. Sometimes, it was hard to move forward when everything surrounding you reminded you of what you had lost.
To distract ourselves from our situation, Oren and I spent many weekends in the dojo sparring. When you lose a parent as young as we did, you develop a very raw understanding of the world, an awareness of your own mortality that generally escapes the young.
I remember how lost I felt, how devastated, grappling with the need for control of my world, but not being able to do anything to change it. Oren was even younger, and he didn’t really understand what had happened, but we both found comfort in martial arts because it gave us that sense of control over something and a way to fight back against the big bad world. Let’s just say my father didn’t need to pull out the shotgun on prom night. I’d been taking care of myself for long enough, I should have seen Aiden coming.
Glancing around, I realized I was only a few blocks from my destination. It was still very early for anyone to be up and about. My eyes shifted to glance across the street. My brows furrowed at the sight of a lanky figure wearing a hoodie and jeans. He’d been following me since I’d left the bed and breakfast.
I slipped my hand to my hip to feel for my dagger, a gift from Aiden, tucked neatly in its’ sheath, hidden by the fall of my black wool coat. My fingers brushed the cool ivory hilt and I sighed silently in satisfaction as I felt a tingle. The sword was enchanted with fae magic.
I glanced back across the street to see the man was looking at me. I got the briefest glimpse of his face before he vanished into an alley. I gasped in recognition. It couldn’t be. I furrowed my brow. Why would he be in Dublin? Glancing up and down the street, I didn’t see any cars coming, and jogged lightly across towards the mouth of the alley he’d disappeared into.
Fog hung thick over the ground, licking at my boots as I passed through it into the alley. I felt a nervous flutter in my gut as I rounded the corner. The dim light cast shadows over the ground and I hesitated. It could be a dark fae trying to lure
me in, but I could have sworn it was him. I stepped forward and entered the alley, hand on the hilt of my dagger.
Just as I rounded the corner, there was a pop and a crackle before the sole lamp flickered out, plunging me into darkness. Drawing my sword in one hand, I flicked my other wrist, summoning up a ball of fire. This I balanced on my palm as I cautiously explored the small space, walking along the worn brick wall until I got to the back of the alley only to find it empty besides a heap of garbage and some discarded pallets. Something among the refuse caught the light, and I knelt to examine it. There, on the ground, nestled among faded newspapers sat a small, gold jaguar figurine.
My eyes widened and I sucked in a breath as I sheathed my sword and leaned forward to scoop it up. It had been him. I stared at the delicately carved cat, transfixed. The cat’s mouth was open in a roar, eyes wide and legs splayed in an aggressive stance. Tiny spirals were carved into the front legs, from shoulders to claws, at which point there were small circles of metal where it could have been affixed to a chain and hung on a necklace or other piece of jewelry. I’d only seen a piece like this once before. There was no way it could be sitting here in my palm, because the last time I’d seen this figurine was right before Aiden threw it into the depths of Lake Guatavita as a sacrifice to the Goddess.
I was so busy considering the figure in my hand that I didn’t hear the person entering the alley behind me until he was right behind me.
“Where the devil have you been?”
Chapter Two
I spun around in shock, fire balanced on one palm, the figure gripped tightly in the other hand. Tristan stood before me, his blonde hair longer than when I’d last seen him, his clothes a bit wrinkled and his green eyes filled with concern as he glanced cautiously at the magic swirling and burning in my left hand.
Relief flooded me and I let the magic fade, spindling the energy away for later, before dropping my arm to my side with a sigh or resignation.
“Gods help us, Brin, are you alright?” Tristan said as he rushed down the alley. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He said, grasping me by the shoulders, then giving me a once over before pulling me to him.
I felt a surge of emotion as he enveloped me and suddenly I was holding back tears, face buried in his shoulder. I hadn’t realized how lonely I’d felt the last few weeks.
“What happened?” He asked.
I showed him the small figure and gave him a quick recap of the man I’d seen.
“Are you sure it was him?” He asked, examining the small jaguar closely.
I gave a short laugh. “As sure as I am about anything these days. Only Aiden would have this. Maybe he wanted to leave it to me to tell me he’s okay.”
“Leave it to my brother to leave the most cryptic message possible.” He said, shaking his head.
We both stared at the tiny figure for another minute, before I shook my head and slipped it into my coat pocket.
“Never a dull moment with you, is there?” Tristan said, his voice joking.
I snorted with laughter. “Without you and Aiden around, I’ve had to find some way to entertain myself.”
He stepped back for a moment and reached out to touch my face, his hand pulling my chin up as he stared into my eyes.
“I missed you too.” His voice was quiet and full of questions and my gut knotted with guilt as I realized I wasn’t the only one struggling with the new state of the world.
“I’m sorry for being away so long. I just didn’t know what to do. I had to get away and think.” I said, swiping away the moisture under my eyes with a finger and stepping back, willing my emotions under control once more. “Allergies.” I shrugged, embarrassed.
Tristan studied me carefully, nodding hesitantly in acceptance. “We’ve all been under a lot of pressure.”
I blinked and stared at him. He stared back.
I gulped. “Yes, well, glad we covered that.”
We came to a silent agreement to leave it at that and he nodded before turning. “We must get out of here as quickly as possible, Brin. I’m not the only one who can track you when you use magic.”
I groaned at the realization I’d just revealed my position to our enemy. I had avoided using magic for the past few weeks to stay off the dark faes’ radar. It was always better to keep your enemy guessing where you were while you were plotting your next move. I screwed that up using the fire to light my way.
Tristan walked around the corner and up the alley, and I watched him. He was smoothing the creases in his sweatshirt, and I couldn’t help but notice his rather attractive - no, incredibly attractive physique. Realizing the direction my thoughts were headed, I gave myself a little shake and pushed the thought out of my mind. He was Aiden’s brother. Clearly, I was just having these thoughts because I missed Aiden.
As I readied myself to go, scooping my wild hair up into a tight ponytail I thought of nothing except how much my view of Tristan had changed over the last few months. When I’d left New York, I’d seen him in the same light as my little brother, Oren. Our relationship was simple then, friends and comrades.
Unsettled by my sudden attraction to him, I forced myself to focus on our earlier conversation. He’d said there was an urgent matter he needed to talk to me about. Sighing, I hurried to catch up to him as he set off.
As we neared the bustling Temple Bar, thoughts of Tristan were driven out of my mind by something else. We walked together past the enormous marble pillars of the Bank of Dublin, I glanced over at Tristan and gasped as I spotted a group of people in black robes hurrying down the narrow sidewalk in front of Trinity College. Tristan glanced towards the group and back at me in question and when I realized the people who’d spooked me were students and not dark fae. I shrugged, embarrassment making my cheeks flush.
I was too jumpy these days. The students passed us and I studied their clothes, taking in the short leather miniskirts and netted stockings the two girls wore under their coats, not robes, just long coats. Dublin street fashion was beyond me - these girls looked better prepared for a night at a gothic nightclub than an early morning class.
I lengthened my stride to keep up with Tristan, who had stopped at the crosswalk near the college’s entrance. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure I was still following. Thunder rumbled and without further warning the angry looking clouds began dumping rain on us. We dashed across the street, hurrying through the stone archway and into the University’s courtyard. Tall, solemn gray walls surrounded us. I stumbled on an upturned cobblestone, nearly falling as I hurried across the green after Tristan, who appeared to be in quite a hurry.
“Hold on folks, you can’t go in there,” a stern voice called out as we made their way up the short flight of stairs leading to the Trinity College Library.
I jerked my head around and took in the sight of a petite older woman with dark shoulder-length hair and pointy glasses. Tristan also turned, a charming smile spreading across his face as he did so.
“Good morning, Professor Arnold,” he said warmly, making his way down the stairs.
“Tristan, what a surprise,” she replied. “I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you. You’re usually traveling alone.” She threw a sharp, sideways glance at me.
Tristan placed his hands on the older woman’s shoulders and kissed her on the cheek, and my lips turned up in amusement as Professor Arnold flushed with pleasure.
“It’s so good to see you. I have someone I want you to meet.” He said.
I did my best to smile as Professor Arnold’s eyes shifted towards me. Grimacing, I realized how I must look in my rumpled blouse and skirt, half drowned by the rain. Acting as if I weren’t at all embarrassed by my shoddy condition, I held out my hand and shook the older woman’s hand firmly.
“Brinmar Yates. It is a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
Professor Arnold nodded politely, still looking a bit skeptical. With a raised eyebrow, she turned back to Tristan. “What brings you here to Trinity, Tristan?”
“It would be better if we were inside. Is there a quiet place we can talk?”
Professor Arnold was curious now and she too glanced around the courtyard before nodding.
“Yes. We can head up to the Long Room. It isn’t open for tours for several hours yet.”
Chapter Three
As we stepped into one of the most stunning rooms I’d ever seen I gasped, taking in the towering rows of bookcases flanking the central aisle. There was at least thirty floor-to-ceiling bookcases arranged on each side. Signs hung on the end of each row, highlighting the different genres contained within each section. Cathedral ceilings soared upwards, creating an open, airy space filled with dozens of smells my newly sensitive nose was reeling at.
Marble busts of famous authors stood guard over some of the shelves and I paused for a moment to examine a bust of Sir Francis Bacon, before following Tristan and Professor Arnold to the small table at the back of the room.
Wind whistled past me and sent a chill up my spine. A plaque next to the door dubbed the space, The Long Room. Decorating the highly polished, walnut bookcases, were thousands of handsome, multi-colored tomes no doubt bound and sewn by hand. The whole place had a feel of scholarly richness. I recalled seeing it featured in an article I’d read about the most beautiful libraries in the world. They weren’t wrong. There wasn’t a single library in my memory that could compete with this space. The bookworm in me wanted to set up a tent in the corner and live there.
“Brin, are you paying attention?”
I jumped as his hand touched my shoulder. Shaking my head and giving him a brief smile of apology, I stepped towards the chair he’d been offering me.
