Tales from the Gateway

by E. E. Holmes

  “What’s up?” I asked him, craning my neck to see over the heads of the crowd in front of us.

  “Off-site security detail,” West replied, eyes shining.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It happens when there’s a big Durupinen gathering somewhere. They want extra security, so they assign some of us to the job and ship us over to the mainland to help out. It doesn’t happen often. I wonder what’s going on that needs the extra manpower.”

  I pondered this as we waited for the crowd in front of us to read the notice and disperse. Of course, I’d been involved with such events before. The Airechtas alone had required dozens of extra Caomhnóir shipped in from all over the Northern Clan territories. I had never stopped to consider that some of them must have come from the various príosúns, but now that I thought about it, it made perfect sense. I could also understand why so many of the men would be excited about it; chances to leave the island were few and far between.

  “There’s no way my name will be on that list,” I muttered to West as we shuffled forward. “I haven’t been here long enough to earn a privilege like that, surely?”

  West shook his head. “It’s got nothing to do with seniority, not this time. The Council won’t care who’s been here longest. All they care about is who can provide the best protection. The most skilled, the most adept, the very best protectors—that’s who they’ll demand be sent their way.”

  My heart sped up. Was it even possible?

  At last, the men ahead of us cleared out and we could see the notice in full:

  Off-Site Security Detail

  Event: Wedding for Clan Dílseacht

  Positions: Border Details and Vehicle Inspections

  Dates: 19-21 June

  And there, on a list of approximately a dozen names: Carey, Finn.

  I stared at it in shock, reading it several times to convince myself that it was, indeed, my name. That I was, for the first time in months, going to have a chance to leave this island. My addled brain didn’t seem capable of absorbing it. A hearty clap on the back jolted me out of my shock.

  “Well done, mate!” West was saying. “See, I told you! Three days off the rock! Blimey, that’s the first one I’ve made in almost a year.”

  “Cheers,” I said dazedly. “And… well done, yourself.”

  I turned in the direction of the library, West still prattling on at my side about off-site details and what they were like, but I was barely listening. Excitement was expanding inside me like an explosion, and it was all I could do to stop myself from whooping.

  I knew whose wedding this must be. Róisín Lightfoot was the only member of Clan Dílseacht who had been engaged recently, as far as I knew. Clan Dílseacht and Clan Gonachd were thicker than thieves, everyone knew that. That meant my family was sure not only to be invited, but perhaps even to be included in the wedding party. But this was not the realization that had my heart in my throat. Clan Dílseacht was on the Council, and there was no way in hell they would hold a wedding for a member of their Gateway without inviting all of the Council clans. It would be an unforgivable breach of tradition and etiquette. It would also mean an opportunity to show off just how wealthy and well-connected they were to the rest of the Northern Clans, and Patricia Lightfoot would never squander such a chance. So, surely wedding invitations had already made their way into the hands of every Council clan, and were even now being accepted.

  And that included Clan Sassanaigh.

  Was it possible… was I kidding myself into hoping… that Jess and I might find ourselves within sight of each other for the first time since I’d been transferred? I felt like a child wishing for the moon—it was so inconceivable, so ludicrous, and yet, there it was, so close that I almost fancied I could touch it.

  I shook off West outside the library with some completely invented excuse about needing to visit the armory to have the smithy take a look at my dagger, and instead took off across the grounds and toward the cliffs, hoping the salt air would clear my head enough so that I could think.

  It was impossible that I could be in the same place as Jess and not find a way to see her. My heart could not conceive of it. And yet, I couldn’t believe I was being permitted to take a post in a place where she might be. Had Seamus overlooked this possibility? Had he perhaps not made provisions against off-site details in my file? After all, it had taken months for me just to earn the right to drive an hour up the road to a pub. Perhaps there had been a time stipulation? Perhaps I had passed some sort of test by following the rules for this long? Or, perhaps Seamus or someone else in leadership already knew that Jess wouldn’t be in attendance for some reason? I had to find out, but how could I get the information without drawing attention to the fact that I hadn’t reformed in the slightest?

  The answer came to me so suddenly, it seemed to smack me right in the face. Of course. There was one person I could call, one person who, if I begged and groveled sufficiently, might be willing to help me. I loathed the idea, but there was not an ounce of my pride I would not swallow in order to see Jess again, and so my mind was made up. Turning on my heel, I made my way back toward the castle and into the rec room, where I sent the one email I could think to send that would make any chance of a reunion possible. Then all I could do was wait and pray for an answer.

  That night, I began having nightmares—nightmares from which I would awaken suddenly, drenched in a cold sweat and shaking from head to foot. They started out just like the nightmares I had when I first arrived—I was wandering through foggy landscapes, hearing Jess calling out for help, but unable to find her. I wouldn’t have thought the dream could get worse, but my mind found a new way to torture me. In this new iteration of the dream, Jess’ cries led me right to her. I could see her ahead, calling out, wringing her hands, my name still shivering in the air between us. But as I reached her, I found I could not touch her—my hands passed right through her as though she were one of the spirits it was our duty to protect. She could not see me—her desperate eyes stared right through me as she continued to call for me, to demand why I had deserted her. What had she done, she begged, to deserve this? How could I have left her alone? And all I could do was shout pointlessly in a voice she could not hear.

  I rolled over and sobbed into my pillow, the dream emotions still freshly tangled with the waking ones, so that I could hardly make sense of them. And then, all of sudden, as it began to sort itself out, I found myself laughing—actually laughing—into my pillow. At first, the impulse made no sense, but then the thought that had sparked the laughter floated its way to the surface of my mind. If Jess knew that I was imagining her wandering helpless in the woods like some damsel in distress, she would slug me right in the face.

  I laughed until my throat felt raw and my sides hurt. It was the first time I’d really laughed since I’d arrived at Skye Príosún, and I was bloody thankful for it.

  §

  I’d begun to lose hope that I’d receive a response to my email as the day of my leave in Portree approached, so when I opened my email the evening before to see the message waiting for me, I sighed with relief. All I had to do now was shake off the lads for a bit once we got there, and I’d be free to make my case.

  All of the Caomhnóir on leave that day were divided into groups and assigned to vehicles. I piled into the van with West, Knox, Wells, and Jensen, and we set off on the winding road to Portree, Jensen driving like a right lunatic, as I had been warned he would.

  “Bloody hell, Jensen, if this is how you drive before we head to the pub, the cows in the fields better run for cover on the way home,” Knox grumbled.

  “Ah, sod off, Knox, you wanker,” Jensen replied, “or you can bloody well walk to Portree.”

  The back and forth continued in this manner, culminating with Jensen stopping the car and trying to pull a hysterically laughing Knox out of the passenger seat and into the ditch on the side of the road, knocking him about the head repeatedly until Knox agreed to lay off his driving sk
ills. In spite of the tomfoolery, we managed to pull into the main street of Portree before midday. While the others argued about whether to walk the shops or see what was playing at the cinema, I pulled West aside.

  “Oi, I’ve got to meet someone down at one of the cafés, all right? I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

  West’s eyebrows rose so high, they disappeared into his shaggy red hair. “Is that so? What are you up to, Carey?”

  “Nothing you need concern yourself about,” I assured him with a genial punch on the arm. “I’ll catch up with you lot at the pub, all right?”

  West looked like he still wanted to interrogate me, but I didn’t give him the chance, turning my back on him and striding off down the street. I glanced down at my watch. If I hurried, I would get there on time.

  Portree had at one point been a fishing village, and it retained much of the nautical charm. The buildings clustered shoulder to shoulder overlooking the bay, like so many wives gathered anxiously with their eyes on the horizon, waiting for fishing boats to find their way home at the end of the day. If I hadn’t been so blasted nervous, I might have stopped a moment to enjoy the freedom and the views, but not today.

  I cut away from the water’s edge and down a narrow street which took me to another road full of shops. I’d asked her to meet me outside a café West had told me about, and she’d agreed. If she hadn’t backed down—if she hadn’t changed her mind—she should be sitting waiting for me right around the next corner…

  As I rounded the curve of the road, I spotted her, sitting outside of the little café, arms crossed truculently across her chest, picking fretfully at the edge of a scone she had no intention of eating. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of enormous sunglasses that she hardly could have thought necessary in the overcast Scottish afternoon, but I could clearly see the rest of her face, which was twisted into a perfect knot of stony aggravation.

  I’d never been so happy to see my sister, Olivia.

  So intent was she on destroying the innocent scone on the plate in front of her that she didn’t see me approaching until I had nearly reached the table. Wiping her hand hastily on a napkin, she jumped to her feet just as I stepped around the table to greet her.

  “Olivia. Thank you so much for—”

  SMACK!

  Rather than embracing me, Olivia had reared like an angry cobra and slapped me across the face as hard as she could. The blow rang through my cheekbone and rattled inside my head, making me stagger.

  “Liv! What the bloody hell did you do that for?” I gasped.

  Olivia let forth a mad cackle of incredulous laughter. “What did I do that for? You’re lucky I don’t kill you where you stand, after everything you’ve put us through over the last few months!”

  “Liv, I’m sorry, I—”

  “You’re sorry? You’re sorry?! Is that all you can say, after dragging our clan name through the absolute gutters, all because you couldn’t keep your bloody hands to yourself? How could you, Finn? And with her of all people! She and that mad sister of hers stole our family’s Council seat! They’ve destroyed our reputation and now you’ve gone and taken what’s left of it and stomped all over it, and then you had the utter gall to summon me here like some kind of—”

  “Liv, get a grip on yourself,” I snapped. “People are staring.”

  It was true. Tourists had frozen on the pavement on either side of the street, mouths hanging open, gaping at us openly. The presence of gawking strangers was just enough to bring Olivia to her senses, and she sank slowly back into her chair.

  Still tensed in case she struck again, I lowered myself into the chair across from her. When she did not speak first, I took the chance to get a word in. “I didn’t summon you here. If I recall from our email exchange, I begged fairly shamelessly. That said, I know I had no right to expect you to come, so thank you.”

  “Don’t you dare thank me,” Olivia grumbled. “I’m not here for you. No one in our family has had the chance to speak with you since this all happened, and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to make sure you knew just how angry we all are.”

  “Message received,” I said, rubbing ruefully at my still throbbing cheek.

  Olivia’s face crumpled, and I knew that tears had sprung up behind those oversized sunglasses. “Oh, Finn, how could you?” she whispered. “Is it… is it even true?”

  “Yes. It’s true,” I replied.

  She dropped her head into her hands with a groan.

  “Liv, listen to me. This wasn’t some stupid fling. I would never risk everything for a dalliance. I’m in love with her, Liv.” The words did not come easily—my sister was not a person in whom I’d ever confided much, and perhaps it was this that pulled her up short.

  “In love? In love with Jess Ballard? You can’t be serious, Finn.”

  “I am. I am serious. As serious as I’ve ever been in my life. Come on, Liv, you know me. We haven’t always gotten along, but you’re my sister and you know who I am. You know how seriously I take my calling—how badly I wanted to prove myself, to rise in the ranks of the Caomhnóir. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. It’s what I’ve worked toward my whole life. Do you honestly think I’d throw all of that away for nothing?”

  “Haven’t you?” she snapped.

  “No. She’s everything to me, Liv. I’m nothing without her.”

  Olivia pulled her sunglasses down over the bridge of her nose, staring into my eyes as though searching for something there. When she found it, her eyes went wide, and her lip started to tremble.

  “Oh my God. You really are in love with her, aren’t you?” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “You idiot,” she whispered, the tears escaping down her cheeks now. She flung off her sunglasses at last so that she could brush and bat the moisture from her face. “You fool, Finn Carey! How could you have fallen in love with her?”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose, I assure you,” I said. “If love was the kind of thing you could overpower with reason, I’d have shaken it long ago, believe me. But there’s nothing I can do, Liv. My fate was sealed from the moment I saw her.”

  Olivia was looking at me with a strange combination of dawning horror and pity, as though she’d only just this moment realized that her brother was capable of such a thing as falling in love.

  “And I know our clans have clashed, Liv, but be reasonable. Jess is as much a victim of circumstances as we are. You don’t have to like her, but you haven’t got anything against her, not really. Marion is the reason everything’s gone to hell for Clan Gonachd and you know it. She’s always been too ambitious, too ruthless, and the only thing she’s ever managed to earn for our family is a long list of enemies and a damn good case for treason.”

  Olivia folded her arms and glared at me but did not argue. Bless her, she was stubborn, but she wasn’t stupid. Our mother and Marion had had more than one row in recent years over Marion’s continued attempts to claw her way into higher positions of power. I had tried to steer well clear of it all, but word still got back to me. Peyton may have been undyingly loyal to her mother, but the rest of us knew that Marion was more of a liability than an asset these days. The truth was that we’d all be better off if Marion simply faded into obscurity and let Clan Gonachd lick its wounds and try to recover what dignity it could. But of course, we all knew her better than that.

  “And I am sorry,” I added, sensing her weakening just a bit. “I never meant to hurt you or anyone else in our clan. But surely you can see how ludicrous it is for all of us to have to keep living like this? The Prophecy is over. There’s no more reason to fear Caomhnóir and Durupinen relationships! Why should Jess and I be punished for—”

  “Because we have rules, Finn! Because we have laws, and they’re supposed to apply to everyone! If you think I’m going to agree that we should throw out every tradition we have just so you can carry on with Jess Ballard—” Olivia began, firing up again.

  “Okay, okay,” I said, raising my hands
in surrender. “Look, I didn’t ask you here to argue. I just… I wanted to apologize. And I also wanted to ask you a favor.”

  Olivia’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What kind of favor?”

  “Are you going to Róisín Lightfoot’s wedding?” I asked.

  Olivia blinked, clearly confused at the sudden turn the conversation had taken.

  “Of course, I am. She’s one of my best friends, you know that. She’s asked both Peyton and me to be bridesmaids,” she replied.

  “And do you know if Jess or her sister Hannah will be there, too?” I pressed.

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately, yes, they both will. I was helping Róisín with the seating chart only last week. She had no choice but to invite them, I suppose, though she certainly seems much keener on them than I am. But all the Council clans will be represented.” She narrowed her eyes again. “Why do you ask?”

  “I’m going to be there, too, Liv. At the wedding. The Lightfoots have enlisted additional security from the ranks at Skye and I’ve been selected for the detail.”

  Olivia stood up, looking angry again. “Finn Carey, if you are asking me to help you desert your post and run off with—”

  “Of course not, now sit down, Olivia!” I hissed through clenched teeth. “I would never ask you to do something like that. Deserting my post would be a crime, and I would never involve you in something like that. I only want to see her, Liv. Five minutes, that’s all I ask. I never… I never got to say goodbye.”