“I know.”
He carried me across the room and lay me on the blankets. His wings unfolded, sparking a shimmering glow that reflected off the ornaments in the room. He stared down at me. “This isn’t the place.”
There was a question there, but I treated it as a statement instead. “I know. You haven’t been sleeping. I’ll keep watch.”
He yawned. “Dubh will warn us if trouble comes.”
He lay down next to me and pulled me close. Half-draped across him, I felt his breathing slow and watched him struggle to keep his eyes open. His insomnia was apparently gone because he conked out almost immediately.
While he slept, I wondered how we were going to deal with the future. He was adamant that we didn’t have one, and we were about to rescue the soul who had once shared his body, a soul I had begun developing feelings for, too. But it was hard to care about any of that stuff while I lay in his arms.
Chapter Thirteen
I woke up the next morning to a tiny paw batting at my face. I looked up at the cat through blurry vision. I closed my eyes until she spat and hissed at me.
“Fine, I’m up,” I mumbled. “What is with you?”
She darted toward the door and looked back at me.
“’Kay, Lassie.” Shaking my head, I got up and went to the front door.
Hearing voices, I opened it and looked outside. Near the end of the Watcher’s garden, Sorcha and Drake were standing close together, arguing loudly. I couldn’t make out the words, but he seemed furious. She mostly looked exasperated, but that was pretty much her default expression.
“And you thought I just had to see this, right?” I whispered to Bekind. “I know what you did last night, making sure we were alone together. What are you like?”
Bekind bit my ankle and fled back inside. I shut the door, went back, and got under the blankets, making sure my hair covered my face. Bekind sprawled out next to me.
After a moment, Sorcha stormed in, saying, “As long as you don’t forget.” She stomped up the stairs.
Forget what? I held my breath when Drake returned. He hesitated in the middle of the room before taking a seat in front of the dying fire. Bekind jumped off the blanket. I glanced up to see her perched on his lap, both of them staring at each other. I had no idea what was going on or what to do about it.
A few minutes later, the Watcher came in and told Drake, “I’ll make us some tea,” he said. “Then we’ll talk.” He and Drake went into the kitchen.
I decided to get up. It was still early, and I was exhausted, but I didn’t want to miss the conversation. When I walked in, the Watcher was at the stove, where he had put on a kettle.
Drake was sitting at the table. “Good morning.” He didn’t get up.
Bekind hissed and swiped at him then jumped off his lap. She pranced over and curled around my ankles.
I sat at the table and watched the Watcher fry some rashers and sausages. Bekind sat at my feet, her tail wrapping and unwrapping around my calves.
“Might as well eat and drink while we talk,” the Watcher remarked merrily as the fat spit in the pan.
My stomach rumbled. Drake smiled at me. For a moment, everything seemed like it could be normal.
The Watcher plonked a teapot and a plate of food on the table. Next came some buttered bread and milk.
“You see,” he said with a wink. “I can indeed look after myself. Now tuck in before the rest get up. Herself can deal with them. I know you’ll want to discuss things first.”
We obeyed willingly, making hot sandwiches that we promptly shoved into our mouths. I shared tidbits with the cat. The food tasted divine, and the tea was exactly what I needed to get warm. The marsh had left the chill inside me, but the longer we stayed in the Watcher’s cottage, the better it got.
“We raise animals out back,” the Watcher said. “Only way to be sure of fresh meat this far out. You caught us at a good time. We stocked up only last week, and I just took apart a carcass myself. Has to be done, you see. Not many pass by here, as you can probably guess, and we can only leave less than a dozen times a year. Still, we’re safer than you’d expect.” He took a sip of his tea, his eyes on Drake. “So you’re the new king. Saw the colours rise, but I wasn’t sure who they were rising for. You don’t look like… him.”
“That’s because I’m not,” Drake said. “The banshee brought his soul back from the Fade and into my body, but Brighid’s priestesses sent him back right before coronation.”
“Did they now? Leaving you to take control,” the Watcher said. “Interesting. And you’re going where exactly?”
“To the Fade,” Drake said. “To bring Brendan back again.”
“That’s an unusual tactic all right.” The Watcher looked at me. “And where does the human fit in to all of this?”
Drake hesitated. “It’s complicated.”
“Isn’t it always?” He refilled our cups. “And you made it through the marshes. Not many manage that in one piece, truth be told. You spent so long out there that I didn’t expect much from you all.”
“That was the human, too,” Drake said, smiling at me as if he were proud.
“Doesn’t surprise me overly much. Stranger things have happened out this way.”
Drake nodded. “Like you and your wife. You’re not fae.”
“Not human, either. Anyway, I’ve told you I’m the Watcher, and you’re wondering what the Hauntings are.” He sighed. “You’re not far from the Fade now. The Hauntings are all that’s in your way. Then there’s the valley, but that’s your way in, I’m thinking. I’m not a guardian of the Fade, mind. I’m here to watch the road for travellers and make sure none of ’em fall where they stand. But there are guardians of the Fade. Not just the shades. You won’t make it past them. The dead aren’t supposed to join the living.”
“He’s not dead,” I said. “He never actually died. Just his soul was sent away. And it was sent away this time to save my life. We can’t just leave him there.”
The Watcher rubbed his chin. “Hmm, a life debt? That may change things slightly. I don’t rate your chances, mind.”
“You were going to tell us about the Hauntings,” Drake said, his knee knocking against mine under the table.
“Yes, well, it’s a strange place. It’s like a town full of echoes, full of pain that seeped into the Black Marshes. It’s hard to explain.” He rubbed his face again. “I’m here to watch out for the Hauntings, to make sure nothing gets past this way. And usually it doesn’t, but if people are wandering in and out… Well, when a soul stays in the Fade too long, it loses its humanity, as it were. Isn’t it strange how we refer to it as ‘humanity’ when most of the fae think they’re so far above humans?” He shook his head with a laugh. “They’re supposed to move on to the Nether, you know. But some get trapped, and others are determined not to move on. Things are different in the Fade. So when a soul loses its sense of self, it often becomes a shade, but its memories go elsewhere because some things can’t die.”
“Where do the memories go?” I asked.
“Into the Hauntings.”
“I don’t think I understand,” Drake said, but the frown on his face said otherwise.
“The Hauntings are full of… atmospheres. The simple version would call it the reruns of the memories of the lost souls. They’re gone, in every sense of the word, but something always remains. You can never quite scrub a soul from the earth, you see. So the full of these memories and scenarios, the ones that mean the most to the souls. They’ve played over and over for so long that they feel real.”
I tried to wrap my head around that. “So we’re stepping into a person’s memories?”
“The shadows of them, but they’re often a little too real. It’s confusing to pass through, and sometimes you get stuck in a memory. Sometimes you come out of there with a memory stuck to you. That’s the danger. Passing through the marshes makes it worse.”
“Why’s that?” Drake asked.
“Because
it’s the Black Marshes,” I guessed, “because you’re already full of despair when you step into the Hauntings.”
The Watcher nodded. “This is so. The marshlands make you weak. The Hauntings make the most of weakness. And the real fear that occurs when someone steps into a memory serves to strengthen it. It’s a feeding cycle that keeps it alive.” He shrugged. “Because most of the souls who hang on are there because of the darkness of their hearts, because they’re unwilling to let go of their anger and pain, and that’s what’s ultimately left behind, even long after the soul has become a shade. Their memories are the most dangerous, the most… sticky, and I’m here to watch and advise you all not to go. Stay here or go home, but don’t pass through the Hauntings, for your own sakes. People have been driven mad by less.”
“I’m going,” I said. “I’m not giving up this close to the Fade.”
“It’s not just the travellers I’m here to watch over,” the Watcher said. “At the Fade, the line between the fae realm and the human one is at its thinnest. This is a true divide, the centre of all. The way is shrouded for a reason. We cannot allow the shades to find their way into the fae realm, never mind the human one. And as much as we try, sometimes the memories make their way through the divide. Sometimes they slip past us and linger in the human world.”
“You mean like ghosts?” I asked. “Ghost stories come from fae memories?”
“Too simple,” the Watcher said, “and yet relatively accurate. This way was protected by higher beings a long time ago. Even Darksiders don’t dare come this way. That’s how it should be. The Darkside is an aberration, created by treachery and ill-judgement. It was that time, during a dark war, that Brighid herself turned her back on the fae—well deserved, if we’re honest.”
“So why are you here?” Drake asked. “Why do you know about this when I, as king, do not?”
“Kings have no power here,” the Watcher scoffed. “We took you in because that’s what we do. You’ll never return with a reward. But we wanted to get the measure of you. That’s true enough. I’m here to…” For the first time, he didn’t look cheery. “I’m here to right old wrongs. The rules are different this close to the Fade.”
“If I found a way back,” Drake asked, “is there anything I could do to help you?”
The Watcher laughed. “Not a thing. It’s not for you to interfere here, not unless the Mother herself wants you to.”
Drake glanced at me. “What if she did?”
“Then I’m sure I would know about it.”
“So if we pass through the Hauntings and bring Brendan back from the Fade, what happens then? Will you let us pass?”
“If you’re clean,” the Watcher said. “If you aren’t, you won’t be leaving. It takes time to scrub away those memories. You would be a danger to everyone in both realms if I didn’t keep you here.”
“But you can help someone who isn’t clean?” I asked.
“We can,” the Wife said, appearing in the doorway. “But it isn’t pleasant. You would have the choice of losing yourself in the Hauntings, living amongst memories that are not your own. You wouldn’t be the first. Eventually, you would forget your own name, your own life, and you wouldn’t be able to tell which memory was yours or somebody else’s. It’s a bad risk to take.”
“Entering the marshes was a risk,” Drake said, “And we made it through. Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“That you’re lucky.” The Wife crossed the room and looked in the presses. “And luck has a way of running out.”
“We won’t stop you from trying,” the Watcher said. “But anyone who comes back unclean will stay with us.”
“Or stay in the Hauntings,” the Wife added. “Most times, there’s no persuading them.”
I looked at Drake. He appeared unruffled, but under the table, his hand was tightly wrapped around mine.
“Do humans enter the Fade?” I asked. “Is that why the divide is thin here?”
“I’ve never been inside the Fade,” the Watcher said softly. “We don’t belong there.”
“Least not yet,” the Wife said with a laugh. “And maybe never at that.”
“You’ve given us a lot to think about,” Drake said. He looked at me. “We need to talk.”
“That you do,” the Watcher said. “It’s cold, but it’s nice enough of a morning to have a wander outside.”
Drake fetched my boots and wrapped his cloak around my shoulders.
“I don’t understand most of this,” I admitted as we walked. “How does it work? Why is it so cold here?”
“The thinner the divide, the more alike the realms are,” he said. “Otherwise, the weather is at the whims of others.”
“Brendan said the royals don’t command the weather, even though they claim to.”
“No,” he said hesitantly. “I don’t doubt that, but there is power, and that comes from elsewhere. The seasons are important, but for a long time now, there haven’t been proper seasons in the fae realm. The fae blamed the queens, but they’re gone, and it’s still happening, so the whispers of Brighid have begun anew.”
“Maybe Grim was right that it’s because Brighid turned her back. There are seasons in my world, so maybe she didn’t turn her back on us.”
“It’s a good theory,” he said, “but none of us know if Brighid even exists. Just because her priestesses occasionally show themselves doesn’t mean she’s around. This place feels unnatural to me. Do you feel that?”
“Honestly? It’s feels real. Everywhere else feels… fake, as if somebody drew some scenery and let us wander around in the picture. Nothing ever feels… right. But here, it’s dark and gritty and grim, and there’s nothing fake about it.”
“It feels like something terrible overcame this place at one time. I’ve never been this deep before.” He shrugged. “Then again, since I’ve been crowned, everything is different.”
“Like what? What happened at the coronation?”
He stared at the ground and kicked a rock. “I already had the power. I was brimming with it. I could taste it in my throat, felt like it would explode through my skin. The priestesses did that. When we came back to Sorcha’s attack, I acted on instinct, but I had no idea how to control the power. I didn’t like it at first. It’s overwhelming. But I got used to it. Now I can’t imagine existing without it. During the coronation, as soon as they branded me, everything changed again. I saw everything differently, felt things I had never felt before.”
“Sounds kind of terrifying.”
“It is a little. I can sense the fae in this realm, feel the threads connecting me to them. I don’t understand what to do with that. Whenever another fae swears fealty to me, the weight of the power increases, but I can’t direct it, can’t control it. I can’t focus the power properly. Sorcha promised to help, but—”
“Is that the deal you made?” I asked. “For her help?”
He avoided my eyes. “Perhaps Brendan will help me if he returns. He was born with this kind of power. He wears it better than I do.”
“So what can you do?”
“I’m not sure. I know I can hurt people. I haven’t tried to do that yet, but I’ve come close. Something like that would leave a massive trace behind, but I can make people do what I want them to for a time.”
“Like what?”
He smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Here.”
He handed me a bloom that came out of nowhere. It lay in my hands, purple and full and fragrant.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.
He ran his hand across the flower. It became a rock, dirty and rough.
I dropped it. “Why did you do that to the flower?”
“It was never a flower. That’s the point. I made you see the flower, then you saw it for what it was truly. Glamours and illusions, Cara. Now I’m the king of them.” He turned and walked away.
I followed and grabbed his arm. “What’s with you?”
“I should have taken you to the coronati
on, should have made you stay by my side and then…” He shook his head. “You’re not coming into the Fade with us.”
“You can’t stop me. That’s ridiculous. I could help.”
“You can’t—”
“I’m not just a useless human! I got us through the marshes. I made it far enough without you and Arlen. I’ve lived this long and survived the fae, Drake. I’m more than what you all make of me!”
“I know you’re not useless,” he said. “But we’re going to suffer for what we’re planning on doing. We’re going to pay. You’re a distraction. You’re the one who’s going to get us killed.”
I shoved him, enraged by his attitude. “Screw you! You can’t just use me then ditch me. I’m going, and you can’t stop me. You’re not my bloody king. We’re all going through the Hauntings, and we’re all going to the Fade, and we’re going to rip Brendan out of there and get home in one piece. Do you understand?”
He laughed.
I pushed him again. “Do not laugh at me, faery king!”
He grabbed my hands. “Please stop hitting me, human. You’re destroying the reputation I’m trying to build.” He cupped my cheek, his eyes soft again. “I don’t want to see you harmed. Can’t you understand that?”
“Nobody owns me. Nobody tells me what to do. I’m not your subject or your slave, Drake. Not now or ever.”
“I know. But I had to try.” His hand fell away. “Fine, I won’t leave you behind, but remember what the Watcher said. If you come back unclean, he’s keeping you with him. Are you sure you can handle that? I can’t wait around and babysit you afterward. I have a kingdom to rule.”
“What do you think will happen when you go back?” I asked, suddenly scared. “Will the daoine sídhe really handle things for you until you return?”
“They’ll do whatever they can. I don’t know what will happen, but I can’t imagine it will be easy or pleasant. I’ve chosen a hard path, but it’s the one I’m on, so I’m going to make the best of it. No matter what happens, I’d advise you to do the same.”
“This is me. Making the best of things,” I said wryly.
“We should get back inside. We need to let the others know the dangers we’ll face.”
Fade (Chaos) Page 12
