by Talia Vance
By the third day, I’m more restless than wary, and I set out to explore. I stick to the halls, taking in the paintings and furniture which make the house feel more like a museum than a home. Even with all the elaborate furnishings, there’s an emptiness here, one so vast even the thickest tapestry can’t wall out the drafts and echoes. It’s a house without a family. Without a soul.
It’s not until I get outside and make my way to the barn that the cold chill that’s settled around me since I fled Rancho Domingo starts to dissipate. The familiar smells of oats and leather chase away the darkness. The stable manager nods at me as I walk through the barn aisle. He looks even rougher with the half light of the sun peeking through the clouds, his face pock- marked and scarred.
I stop at every stall, taking a minute to introduce myself to each horse. A thick bay flicks his ears at the sound of my voice and walks over to lift his nose over his stall door. I stroke his cheek.
“I see you’ve met Tally.” The stable manager steps beside me. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s all charm on the ground, but he’s a handful under tack. A tiger in a horse’s body.”
“I know the type.” “Do you ride, then?” For someone who looks like a back alley thug, the man’s voice is light and friendly.
“I had a horse back home.” I hold out my hand. “I’m Brianna, by the way.”
He takes my hand. “Malcolm Miller.”
“I remember.” He was the one who stood up for me when Rhiannan called me a witch. I don’t know whether he truly disbelieved her or was just trying to score points with Mick, but I like him either way. “Can I ride?” I feel almost shy, asking.
Malcolm nods. “The horses will be glad for the company. But not Tally. Start with Panda. She knows her way around the property and she won’t give you any trouble.”
Panda turns out to be a thick black mare with three white socks and a small star in the middle of her forehead. I groom her myself, but Malcolm insists on saddling her up. He gives me a leg up and then points me in the direction of a path that disappears over a hill.
I ease Panda into a trot and then a canter. On a long stretch, I let her have her head and gallop. Everything goes by in a blur of green and gray, and my mind goes blank as it registers only the beat of Panda’s hooves on the soft earth and the cold wind on my face.
By the time I bring her back down to walk, I can no longer see the house or barn behind me. A small trail branches off to the right of the main path narrowing toward the ocean. I taste the salt on my lips, and I’m seized with longing to be closer.
I turn Panda the opposite way. I can’t afford to indulge my instincts. Not anymore.
I find a trail that disappears into rows of neatly planted trees, before twisting up a steep hillside. I ride up, looking back every now and then to admire the view of the estate below.
A small clearing sits at the top of the hill. The remnants of two stone walls meet at a right angle in the middle of the field. The stones are odd shapes, but fit together like a jigsaw puzzle, forming neat rows where the walls still stand.
I set Panda loose on a patch of fresh grass and approach the crumbled walls on foot.
The gray sky turns darker. Wisps of white mist crawl along the ground, breaking off in opposite directions when they meet the base of the wall. I recognize the style of the stacked stone, sealed with mud. It’s the same kind of wall I’d seen in the field with Danu when I tried the banishment spell for the first time, only this wall is smaller and in disrepair.
The wind is cold, and it cuts through my light sweater. As I step closer to the ruined little wall, I feel dizzy. I place my hand on a stone to regain my balance. The smooth stone is marred by deep lines cut into the rocks, carved into primitive shapes. The first is of a circle with lines pointing out, like a child’s drawing of the sun. Next to it is a crude lightning bolt. The last shape is more detailed, the silhouette of a horse, its mane and tale flowing behind it as it runs.
I know that horse.
I finger the little charm on my silver bracelet. The horse charm is cut in the identical pattern. I lift my wrist, holding the charm next to the stone cut-out, marveling at the similarities. The charm brushes the stone, and there’s a flash of bright silver light before everything disappears.
Everything.
I’m surrounded by fog, so thick, I can’t make out anything but the cloud of choked air around me. I can’t feel ground beneath my feet. It’s as if I’m floating. I close my eyes to try to orient myself, but that only makes me dizzy.
When I blink my eyes open, I’m back at the ruin, solid ground under my feet. I catch my breath. Okay. I’m right here. Only everything looks different. The south wall is taller, reaching over my head nearly twelve feet or so. The mist and gray sky are gone, and bright sunshine lights the little clearing, which is filled with spring flowers. Panda is nowhere in sight.
A girl laughs from somewhere out in the distance. When I turn my head, there’s nothing, just the wind whistling through the trees, which are thinner and more sparse than I remember.
I hear the laughter again. Now I see the girl. She’s about my age, maybe a little younger, with dark hair that flows past her shoulders. Her dress is long, made of thick brown wool that brushes the ground. It’s belted at the waist with a long strip of matching wool fabric. Her neck is adorned with a thick silver chain, accented by a distinct pendant. The silver flower is a small wolfsbane blossom I recognize well.
I glance at my bracelet. The flower charm is identical except for scratches and tarnish from years of wear.
“Gwyn,” a boy with a thick Irish accent calls from behind her. “Come back.” He doesn’t speak in English, not exactly, but I understand him perfectly.
The girl’s name is Gwyn? Danu had a daughter named Gwyn. Supposedly my charm belonged to her. Is this Danu’s daughter? My ancestor?
The girl laughs again and runs toward the ruin. Toward me. She stops and turns back to the boy’s voice before she sees me. “Come on, Aaron. The grass looks soft enough to lie on.”
That gets the boy’s attention. He peeks around the trunk of a tree, a mop of brown hair covering his eyes. “Is that so?”
A squeak catches in my throat. The boy’s hair is long, brushing his collar bone, but it still falls across his forehead in a familiar, unruly way. His smile is crooked, a little imperfection that makes Austin’s otherworldly beauty feel almost human.
Impossible. It can’t be him.
Gwyn laughs again and runs toward the field of grass and flowers.
The boy starts to run after her, but stops when he sees me.
Gwyn is already across the field, darting into the trees, but he doesn’t move to follow her. He takes a tentative step in my direction.
I lean back against the wall. I reach for fire, wind, any weapon. For the first time in weeks, the elements are not there in an instant. There’s nothing but cold fear. “Austin?” My voice shakes. My eyes are playing tricks on me. She called him Aaron, not Austin. Austin is trapped in the underworld. He can’t hurt me anymore.
“Would that I were.” His eyes rake down my legs. “Do I know you?”
I’m wearing jeans, but suddenly feel like I need more clothing. “It’s me. Brianna?”
He cocks his head to the side. “Are you not from around here then?”
“Of course not.” The sunlight does little to warm the air. I shiver.
He moves closer. “Are you an angel?”
A laugh escapes before I can stop it. Does he really not know me? “Hardly.”
Gwyn calls from across the meadow. “Aaron!”
“Aaron?” I take in his clothes. The belted wool shirt that hangs almost to his knees, the coarse leggings that look almost like tights. He’s dressed like one of Robin Hood’s merry men.
He bows slightly. “Lord Lorcan.”
If that girl really is Danu’s daughter, then is this boy Austin before he was banished? One of the personas created by Mick as the current Lord Lorcan?
He doesn’t look away from me. “And you are?” “I think I’m from the future.”
“My future?”
“Don’t you know?” This is where Austin should make some crack about how we will end badly.
He smiles, the familiar crooked one. “Your ambition is admirable, but I’m not exactly on the market.”
He thinks I’m hitting on him? Please. “Get over yourself.”
“Pardon?” There’s an air of innocence to him that is unexpected. It’s hard to imagine this boy as the boy who put my friend’s life in danger and tricked me into killing Blake. But I know it’s him. It has to be.
Gwyn comes out of the trees. She moves across the meadow, dragging her skirts behind her. Austin’s eyes flit toward her.
The dizziness I felt earlier is back tenfold. I double over with nausea, falling into the wet grass. When I open my eyes, the sky is gray again. My clothes cling to me, soaked through from the ground. My teeth chatter as I push myself up.
Panda still grazes in the patch of grass. The wall is smaller, five feet at its highest point.
What did I just see? It was Austin, I’m sure of it. He had been here with Danu’s daughter.
I force myself to my feet and make my way to Panda. “You okay, girl?”
Panda continues chewing on the grass. So it’s just me then.
I swing into the saddle and glance back at the ruin, half expecting to see a ghost. But there’s nothing.
I’ve traveled to places I couldn’t understand before. I’ve met Danu and even Killian in the spirit realm. But this feels different somehow. I wasn’t trying to hold back my power or attempting a magic spell. And Gwyn and Austin didn’t seem to know who I was. They weren’t part of my present. I’m pretty sure I intruded into their past.
FOUR
I should leave this place. The last thing I need is the ghost of Austin’s past haunting me from across the centuries. As if it’s not bad enough that the ghost of Blake Williams keeps invading my dreams.
I could go back home to California. I could fight. It’s not like I’m afraid. I’m not alone either. There’s another bandia. Sherri Miliken is out there somewhere. God knows she’s up for a fight. But I’ve never wanted a war with the Sons. I never wanted any of this. I just wanted a normal life. To have a normal boyfriend. One who trusts me. Was that too much to ask?
Apparently, if Blake is any indication.
I didn’t want to go to his little sister’s fifteenth birthday party, but Blake had been so adamant that I come. I get that he wanted me to be part of his whole life, not just some girl he kept hidden away, and I wanted that too. Still, it was one thing to want it, and another thing to try to make conversation with the backs of his parents’ shoulders. I’d only met Mallory once, and I was pretty sure she hated me as much as the rest of them. After three months, I was ready to fold, but Blake kept insisting we go all in.
It wasn’t just Blake’s family either. The Sons only allowed me to be in their ranks because they thought I could lead them to Sherri. Because they thought I was under Blake’s thumb. And maybe on some level I was. I thought I loved him anyway. I thought he loved me.
I’d only been at the party for a few minutes. Blake hadn’t even seen me yet. He was talking to a group of breeders next to a built-in barbecue with stacked stone that matched the exterior of the McMansion that Blake’s parents called a house. I couldn’t feel him anymore, so it was impossible to tell if his dimpled smile was real or a mask.
Sierra Woodbridge, the self-proclaimed leader of the Brianna Paxton Not-a-Fan Club, flipped her cherry-striped hair away from her face and curled her lip as I walked toward her and her boyfriend, Jonah. I would’ve kept my distance, but they blocked the narrow path that cut across the yard, and I had no intention of engaging the crowd by the pool.
Jonah Timken tightened his arm around Sierra’s waist, pulling her closer. She curled into him, completely oblivious to the fact that the squeeze was not a sign of affection. Jonah succeeded in distracting Sierra as his gaze followed the line of my floral skirt where it draped along the curve of my hip.
He winked from over Sierra’s shoulder.
Gross.
“Keep walking, witch,” Sierra said. “No one wants you here.”
The comments used to be murmurs, malicious whispers I wasn’t meant to actually hear, but in the weeks leading up to Mallory’s party, the breeders had become more confrontational. I tried to ignore her. Sierra and I would never be friends, even if we weren’t on different sides of the war on magic. It was better to keep walking.
“That’s right,” Sierra said. “Run to your boyfriend. He’s the only reason you’re still alive. Might as well enjoy it while you can.”
Jonah’s grin got bigger.
My fingers tingled with a fiery itch, desperate to unleash a torrent of flame, to wipe that smile off of Jonah’s face. To wipe Jonah off the face of the planet. I should’ve been used to these flashes of power after a few months of hanging out with my mortal enemy, but they seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. Impulses that became harder to control. I ducked behind a large palm tree and started counting.
Six. Thirty six. Two hundred and four. Twelve hundred and twenty four. Better. By the time I got to the seventh exponent of six, I was sure the itch was snuffed out.
I should’ve known better.
Mick walks into the kitchen where I’m fumbling with a complicated piece of machinery that’s supposed to be a coffee maker. If a degree in mechanical engineering is a prerequisite to making a cup of coffee, it’s no wonder everyone here drinks tea.
Mick wears a dark gray suit today, with pinstripes and pants that taper in at the ankle. He looks like an nineteenth century hipster. All that’s missing are a pair of nerdy glasses. “You settling in?” he asks.
“Define settling in.” Holing up in a castle on the far coast of Ireland would’ve sounded like a dream vacation a week ago. Now it just feels lonely. And cold.
Mick takes the coffee grounds from me and presses them into a small metal cup. “I’ve been wondering if Joe was wise to send you here.”
“Why?” As far as I can tell no one knows where I am. I checked in with my parents online, but even they knew better than to ask where I went.
Mick adds more grounds to the cup and slides it into the contraption, in no hurry to answer my question. He places a small glass underneath the spout before he presses a button and looks up. “You saw how Rhiannon reacted when you arrived. The people here know well enough the destruction that a single bandia can bring. They’re at least as a much of a danger to you as the Sons.”
“You mean the locals? But they’re humans.” “You shouldn’t underestimate them. Humans were responsible for defeating the gods the first time.”
“But I’m on their side.”
Mick arches a brow. “Are you sure you’re a bandia?” “I wish I wasn’t.”
Mick focuses on the dark liquid as it finishes pouring into the little cup, but he has a curious look in his eyes. “You are an enigma.”
“An enigma?”
“An enigma inside a mystery and wrapped in magic that you’re afraid to use.”
“I’m not afraid to use it.” That’s the problem. I can’t seem to stop myself.
Mick hands me the tiny cup of black sludge. “It’s probably best if you don’t go into town. There will be rumors. We can’t stop them, but there’s no need to fuel them either.”
“So I’m trapped here? Like some girl in an ivory tower?”
“It’s just a suggestion.”
“Of course it is.” I add two cubes of sugar to the tiny cup of coffee. It won’t be enough to mask the bitter taste, but Mick doesn’t keep vanilla syrup on hand, and the odds of my getting some steamed milk are less than zero. “Can I take the car?”
“I think there might be a bit of the bandia in you after all. I suppose you won’t listen when I say you should stay in one place for a while.”
I can’t stay cooped up h
ere forever. I stride toward the door, but stop halfway. “Who was Aaron Montgomery?”
“Ah.” Mick leans against the stone countertop.
“He was Austin, wasn’t he?”
He tilts his head. “The last incarnation before the thousand years he was locked away in the underworld.”
How did I see Austin from over a thousand years ago? Why? I shouldn’t be here. “If you won’t give me the keys, will you at least take me into town?”
“It’s not a good idea.”
“I won’t stay here.”
He almost smiles. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t take you.”
FIVE
The town is even more magical up close. It looks the same as I imagine it did centuries ago, with stone streets and stone buildings and wood facades painted in bright colors. We stop at the bakery with the little cakes, and I eat three of them while Mick sips a cup of raspberry tea.
No one pays any attention to us. “I don’t know what you were worried about,” I say as I bite into another little cake. It’s sweet without being sugary.
“No sense taking risks if you don’t have to.” “The Sons don’t know where I am, do they?” Mick shakes his head. “I told you the Sons aren’t your
only concern. The Milesians are every bit as dangerous.” “The Milesians?” The Sons descended from the human
warriors tasked with ridding Ireland of the last vestiges of
magic. “But the Sons are the Milesians.”
“Were. Killian became something more after he bonded with Danu. Cursed with the dark powers of a god,
he became the very thing the Milesians sought to destroy.” “I get that, but Killian went on killing the descendants
of the gods.” His powers made him very successful. He
eradicated all the remaining demigod lines except Danu’s.
And, while the bandia descended from Danu believed that
Killian killed Danu, I knew the truth. Austin killed Danu
to spark a war between Killian’s heirs and the bandia. Mick stirs a cube of sugar into his tea. “Killian wasn’t
the only human warrior. The Milesians still exist, Brianna.
