“This is a Faerie ritual, not a Gancanagh rite?” I ask.
“’Tis Faerie,” he replies, continuing to work as I try not to cry and ruin what he has already done.
It takes a long time to apply all of the symbols. When Declan is finished, he holds up a mirror for me to see what he has done. My face resembles an intricate labyrinth of interconnected lines and rune-like symbols. I look textured, in a way: pagan and otherworldly. The lines trace down my neck and on my hands and arms.
“Are ye ready?” Declan asks me, and I nod, swallowing the last bit of food he had ordered for me. “Den, we should go downstairs. Dere will be a processional out ta da cliffs.”
“I said I’d wait for Molly,” I reply.
“I’ll send someone ta fetch her,” he says.
We step out in the hallway and Declan quietly speaks to one of the fellas. The rest of the fellas stare at me like I’m an alien. Fidgeting a little, I begin counting them. There are fifteen that I can see. I recognize some of them: Torin, Goban, Ninian, Faolan, Lonan, Alastar, and Cavan.
“Faolan,” I say, making eye contact with him and trying not to tear up. “Thank you,” I murmur in a half-whisper. Brennus said he helped him against the Werree, saving our lives.
Faolan nods, looking pleased.
“Where is Eion?” I ask Declan, not seeing him.
“He will guard Brennus from now on,” Declan replies gruffly, like he approves of the change. “We should go.”
I walk in the center of a swarm of fellas, following Declan to the front doors. As I step outside, the air blows crisp and damp against my cheeks. I put my coat on, tying the belt tight. Molly sidles up to me, whispering in my ear, “Nice tattoos, half-breed.”
“Jealous, vampire?” I ask with a ghost of a smile, hearing her smother a giggle.
“Hey, I picked this up for you on the way through the hall. It was delivered this morning,” she says, handing me another wrapped box.
“What is it?” I inquire, looking at the small, blood red box with a bow that resembles my angel wings.
She shrugs. “Another birthday present. They checked it. It’s not ticking,” she says, grinning.
“Who is it from?” I murmur.
Molly frowns, “I don’t know. Maybe there’s a card inside, but I’m sure it’s for you. Look at the wings,” she replies. “Open it.”
I unwrap the bow from the box and lift the lid. Reaching in it, I pull out a large, golden compact. My heart begins to pound in my chest as I feel the cold metal in my hand. On the lid of the compact, there is a set of ruby encrusted angel’s wings. It is exquisite…exquisitely evil…a Trojan horse.
“Oh, it’s make-up. That’s kind of fierce,” Molly says, seeing the gift. She takes the box from me as I hold the compact in my hand, studying it numbly. “I don’t see a card. It’s probably from Brennus. Maybe we should put it back in the box, so he can give it to you.”
“It’s not from Brennus,” I reply, putting the compact into the pocket of my coat and feeling myself growing pale. “It’s not make-up. It’s a mirror.”
“Oh, very swank,” she smiles absently, looking around for a place to set down the box. She stashes it behind a towering gargoyle.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I can feel my gifts from the angels. In my right hand, I hold my necklace from Reed. In my left hand, I can feel the smooth, gold metal of the compact from Casimir—the portal that will link me to him when I open the lid and allow him to pass through it to me.
“Mo chroí,” Brennus breathes near my ear and I jump.
As I turn to look at him, my heartbeat picks up for a different reason than being scared. Brennus looks like a pale, Greek god who has come down from Mt. Olympus to grace us with his presence. On his head is a golden crown that resembles a laurel wreath. The gold against his black hair is striking, making me want to reach out and touch it.
“Whah are ye doing here?” he asks with concern in his tone. “Ye should be resting. I’ll see ye back upstairs.”
“No,” I say, stepping back as he tries to guide me back inside. “I need to go—to say goodbye to Lachlan. Please?” I ask, feeling almost desperate. I can’t even tell him why it’s important to me. My emotions are so chaotic and taut. I feel frayed. I think he realizes this because he pulls me into his arms, hugging me tight.
“Ye do Lachlan a great honor by mapping his story. Ye are his queen and ’tis a sign of great respect dat ye mourn his loss,” Brennus says, rubbing my back under my wings. I have to choke back the tears again, so I just nod to what he is telling me.
“Will ye walk with me out ta da cliffs?” Brennus asks and I nod again. I look up at his face and I’m shocked to see his radiant smile. He looks completely happy and I feel confused because we are walking to a funeral.
Brennus’ arm wraps more firmly around my back as we walk together towards the cliff and the sea. Fellas surround us, strolling at a respectful distance, but forming a barrier so that we’re well protected. Machine-gun and rocket-launcher toting Gancanagh are posted at different intervals along the way to the cliffs, bringing awareness to the fact that there are lethal threats to me and anyone who shelters me.
Nearing the cliffs, I catch my first glimpse of Lachlan. He is lying on an altar of fallen stone. They dressed him in a suit of ancient, silver armor and in his hands he holds the diamond-headed spear that I had held with him in the archive room. My throat immediately closes as tears fall from my eyes.
Brennus’ arm around me tightens. “He died a good death, mo chroí. He was a warrior and he died fighting. ’Tis all any of us ask,” Brennus says, pulling me closer to his side.
I know that it’s Lachlan laying there, not my Uncle Jim, but images of my uncle enter my mind at that moment, along with flashes of his pain. How did Alfred kill him? Was it slow? Did he try to fight back with his inadequate human body? my mind asks me, seeing many of the torturous things that could’ve happened.
We stop near the fallen stone. Brennus squeezes me before letting go of me to move to the head of the stone. He begins speaking in another language; a language that sounds different than anything I’ve heard them speak before now. It must be Faerie. It sounds soft and mellow, like the gentle flow of water over stone. But I can barely listen to the sound of his voice. My thoughts are far way: in my Uncle Jim’s house the night he died.
Did Alfred go to him alone, or did he bring others to help him torture Uncle Jim? Did Alfred tell him why he was killing him—that it was because of me? Did he know that he was dying for me—in my place? Did he scream out for help—for someone to save him? I wonder, vaguely feeling tears dipping from the curve of my jaw.
Gruesome images of how Uncle Jim could’ve died continue to float in my mind, making my head pound and my stomach feel nauseous. The grief from his loss is more painful than the stabbing I recently endured. I raise a shaky hand to my face to dash away some of my tears.
Looking again at Lachlan, I know that his blood is on my hands as well. Casimir sent the Werree for me and he sent Alfred, too. Something inside of me feels broken, like there is a shadow between my heart and my soul now. It’s a dark place: a place filled with yearning and need—a place that craves revenge. I want to see Casimir suffer brutally and painfully without any mercy. None.
When Brennus finishes speaking, Finn addresses the gathering. He is brief and then he looks past Molly at his side to Faolan next to her. Faolan speaks then, and the procession continues around the rock, each Gancanagh speaking in turn. I feel disconnected from the rest of the gathering as I stand next to Brennus, not knowing what the fellas are saying, because they are still speaking in a language I don’t understand.
Soon, Declan, standing next to me, finishes speaking and everyone shifts their eyes to me. Brennus leans near my ear and asks, “Would ye like to say anyting to the gathering before we move on?”
I am quiet for a moment, looking at Lachlan’s face, remembering him as he was with us in my archive, playing cards and teaching me to c
heat with no expression on my face. Or, when he was telling us about the first time he tried a wind-charming spell and just about blew the doors off his parent’s dwelling. Or, at the strategy meetings, where he taught me alternate ways of looking at a problem. Or, when he stood by my side and tried to protect me from the vicious, shadowy creatures that covet the body parts of others. He is gone now…and he won’t be coming back.
Wiping the tears that are still coming from my eyes, I say softly, “I don’t know which is more difficult: going on alone to an unknown destination, or having to remain behind to watch the one you love leave. Those of us who have had to remain behind, we know that it’s a cut that never heals…it just continues to bleed—to burn inside of you.” A twist of pain cuts through me, thinking of my uncle.
“We have lost someone that we cannot replace. There is no one like Lachlan. He was unique…an original. I hope that wherever he travels next there will be someone there for him, to guide him home,” I whisper, feeling my throat getting really tight again.
Breathing in deep, I continue, “Since we are forced to let him go, to bleed inside for him…I want payment. I want retribution in the form of pain…I want revenge and I will have it. I promise you, Lachlan,” I end.
Click, click, click, click, click, click—my call for vengeance has elicited a visceral response from the fellas. I ignore them, lost to my own raging desire for revenge. I move towards Lachlan’s side and reach my hand out to touch the spear in his grasp. The weapon begins to sing its gentle lullaby. It is barely discernable over the rhythmic swaying of the sea below the cliffs, but I can hear it and those closest to Lachlan can hear it, too. After a few moments, I pull my hand back, letting go. I turn away from Lachlan and walk to Brennus’ side. His eyes are soft, like he has been given the greatest gift imaginable.
Brennus embraces me, leaning down, he whispers in my ear, “Ye really are da queen of hearts.”
I place my hand on his chest and shift to look at him, whispering, “Bring me Casimir and I will be anything you want me to be.”
Flames of desire ignite in his eyes as he replies, “Now dat is an interesting proposition.”
Finn clears his throat then, causing Brennus to straighten up slowly. With reluctance, Brennus lets go of me before going to the stone and laying his hand upon Lachlan’s head. He closes his eyes as energy in the air shifts towards him. Whispering words I don’t understand, Brennus steps back a few paces from Lachlan. A green flame ignites around Lachlan, licking at the sides of his armor and causing plumes of smoke to curl up in the air. Inhaling it, it smells like burning candy.
I turn away from the sight of Lachlan’s burning corpse and walk alone towards the edge of the cliffs and the sea far below them. The terrain is rocky and covered in a moss. When I almost reach the edge of the cliff, I feel fluttering butterflies taking flight inside of me. Pausing in my tracks, I take a deep breath, clearing the burning scent from my nose. I take another step forward, the fluttering increases. My legs grow heavy, making it difficult to take the next step towards the sea.
Reed is here somewhere, I surmise as my heart races in my chest.
The next step is nearly impossible. It feel like I am trying to trudge through quicksand. Reaching out, I use the jagged edges of the rocks to pull myself forward. Reed must be hiding beneath the cliff’s edge on one of the shelf ledges. I want to call out to him and tell him that I know he’s there, but I can’t. I can barely move now as I pull myself the last few feet to the edge of the cliff.
The butterflies inside of me are beating wildly now, comforting me with the assurance that he’s here—that he still exists. Things are blurring for me now. I can’t see the lines that were drawn so clearly before. Right and wrong aren’t making sense to me. I don’t think that I know exactly what evil is anymore. It used to be so black and white, but now it is just shades of gray. I’m so far from where I intended to be. I need Reed. I need him to pull me back from this edge of evil because I think that once I fall, there will be no going back.
I exhale, trying to say his name, hearing him whisper in return, “I’m here.” Closing my eyes, I savor the sound of his voice that reaches the raw, dark place inside of me between my heart and my soul.
Icy air radiates from behind me as Brennus says, “’Tis time we went back ta da house. Ye look so tired; ye need ta rest.”
I shove both my hands in my pockets and I clutch a gift in each of them. “If I jump, will you catch me?” I ask, looking out at the sea ahead of me I hear both Reed and Brennus answer me in my next breath, “I will.”
Reed’s answer is so low, that I don’t think that Brennus can hear him. It pulls at my heart. I want to be with Reed so much, but I’m beginning to believe that it will never happen. I have to leave now, or all I will have is the burning desire for revenge inside of me, I think.
I move forward towards the sea—towards Reed. Brennus catches me from behind before I can jump.
Shifting in his arms, I hold out the gift from Casimir for Brennus to take, saying, “Then this is for us.”
“Whah is dis?” Brennus asks, taking the compact from my left hand and running his fingers over the blood red jewels encrusted on the cold, metal lid.
“Revenge,” I breathe, looking into Brennus’ green eyes and seeing his desire for me. I allow the necklace in my other hand to slip from my grasp, hoping that Reed will catch it before it falls into the sea below.
CHAPTER 20
The Gifts
Curiosity registers on Brennus’ face as he holds the shiny, metal compact I have given him. He turns it over, studying it. I don’t need to hold it to know that it’s from Casimir. The jeweled red wings encrusted on the lid have a way of making my extremities go numb, just like Casimir had when I met him.
“Where did ye get dis?” Brennus asks.
“I think that Casimir sent it to me,” I reply, surprised that I sound so calm. “Don’t open it. It’s a very clever little trap,” I warn him.
Butterflies are still fluttering around in my stomach, denoting Reed’s presence, but I can’t be positive that he is there, so my reasoning must be enough to allow me to still operate within the realm of the magical contract. I pray that he is there and was able to catch the necklace that I just dropped down to him. I hope, too, that he is still listening to what I’m telling Brennus.
“How does dis trap work?” Brennus asks as his arm tightens around me protectively.
“It’s a portal—a link between two places. This mirror has a mate. When they are both opened, they connect like a hallway to one another, allowing an angel or other being to shapeshift and pass through the hallway to the other side,” I explain.
“You tink dis is from Casimir?” he asks for clarification.
“I’d say that it’s a good thing that it’s metal, otherwise it would smell like rotten garbage,” I reply. I quickly tell Brennus about the portal I unexpectedly opened, given to me on my last birthday by Alfred. I explain the shadow man who had popped out of it and tried to strangle me. “Casimir must not know that Alfred already tried this. Old boy needs a new bag of tricks.”
“’Tis a perfect trap because I’ve never heard of it,” he says. His eyes rove over my face lovingly and I just realize I must look like a frightening mess. I’m covered in inky tattoos that have probably smeared and run because I have been crying over the loss of Lachlan…and my uncle. I self-consciously touch my cheek, seeing the inky lines on my fingers when I draw them away.
“I think it’s an angel thing. They don’t broadcast their escape routes. I had to open one to find out about it,” I reply, looking away because Brennus is so handsome with the crown of laurel in his thick, black hair. My wings flutter a little and a rumbling laugh comes from Brennus.
“I do desire ye, mo chroí,” he says thickly with a possessive smile. “Ye have no idea how much, do ye? Ye have never looked more beautiful ta me dan ye do right at dis moment. Ye look Fay—like a Faerie wi’ da ritual mapping on yer body. Ye look like ye
belong in dat time, long ago, when I was a lad. I would’ve fought for ye den, too. In dis world or dat one. Heaven could be here. We could make it here, together.”
“Casimir is standing in the way of that,” I point out, feeling an intense pull towards Brennus. My desire for him is growing every day. “He will be back for me.”
Brennus holds up the compact for me to see. “I see so many ways ta send him a message wi’ dis. Let us go back ta da house and we will explore dem,” he says, guiding me away from the edge of the cliff and away from my angel.
I lean against Brennus on the way back to the house. We don’t discuss the compact. I still feel as if I’ve just been in some sort of horrible accident. I’m sore and shaken and the dreadful consequences of the attack have left me filled with sorrow and grief.
Brennus holds me close to him, trying to comfort me, and he does, much to my surprise. When we enter the house, Brennus pauses near Finn, saying, “Genevieve has received someting very intriguing. Can ye meet me in me office in a few minutes, I would like ta discuss it wi’ ye.”
Finn nods, looking past Brennus to me. His eyes soften as he says, “Ye look grand, Genevieve. Jus like a Faerie.”
“Tanks, Finn,” I smile, using his accent. “Take a good look, because I’m going upstairs to wash it off now.”
“Ye did us proud today.” Finn replies, smiling as I blush at his compliment, ducking my head.
“Don’t get used to it,” I advise, seeing him smile and shake his head.
“I’ll walk ye upstairs, mo chroí,” Brennus says, guiding me to the stairs. My entourage follows us up. Declan checks my rooms before winking at me and leaving to wait in the hall.
When we are alone, Brennus says, “Ye go and take yer shower now. I have someting I want to discuss wi’ ye when ye’re finished.”
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