Children of the Veil (Aisling Chronicles)

by Colleen Halverson

  “Mmmmm…” I murmured, running my hand against the side of his face, trying to keep from seeing double. “Stay still.”

  He gently placed his hand over mine. “Elizabeth, your keys. It’s freezing out here.”

  I brought his palm next to my face, brushing my lips against his callused fingers. Need burned through my body, and I fell against his broad chest, covering his mouth with mine with a moan. For a moment, he kissed me back, his hands pressing firm against my shoulders. The falling snow tickled my neck, sending icy trails down my spine, and I pressed into him, seeking his warmth. He made a low sound in his throat.

  “You’re drunk,” he said.

  “I don’t care,” I whispered into his ear.

  Finn disentangled himself from my arms, and I slipped on a patch of ice, falling on my ass with a giggle. He leaned over me, patting my jeans in search for my keys. His hands strayed to my waist, tickling my side, and I laughed again, grabbing his hands.

  He hovered over me, his hair grazing the firm line of his jaw. “Elizabeth, stop. I mean it. Where are your keys?”

  He rifled through my coat pockets, and something landed on the balcony with a thud. The book of Yeats poetry lay in the snow, white powder quickly accumulating on its worn cover. Finn made to grab it, but I snatched it away, wiping it off and sticking it safely back inside my coat. He stared down at me and swallowed hard, the tinkling crystal of falling snow the only sound on the silent street.

  “Elizabeth…” His hand brushed away a wet lock of hair plastered to my cheek.

  I shrugged away, rifling through my jeans pocket for my keys, then threw them at him. A wave of dizziness washed over me and I curled up on the balcony, willing the snow to blanket me, for the winter to bury me so I could sleep for four months and reemerge whole again. Stinging numbness gripped my fingers and toes, and I shivered, burying my head against my arm.

  “Let’s get you inside.” Finn’s arm slid beneath my shoulders and under my knees, and he picked me up like I weighed nothing. He backed into the door and then gently laid me on the bed. With a tug, he pulled off my boots and dropped them to the ground. After peeling off my jacket, he wrapped the blankets around me and sat on the edge of the bed, the side of his face lined with silver light from the window.

  “Do you have courage equal to desire?” I said. Not my best pickup line, but I could have done worse in that moment, with about a gallon of whiskey in my belly and whatever date-rape drug my would-be assassin had slipped in my drink. I stared at Finn’s profile, willing him to look at me. To touch me. To do anything but sit there with that quiet, stony stare.

  Finn’s chest rose and he let out a deep exhale. “Go to sleep, Elizabeth.”

  The ceiling spun around like a pinwheel. I closed my eyes and turned over, thankful for the darkness.

  …

  My head pounded like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. I squeezed my eyes tight as a wave of nausea bubbled up through my stomach. Swallowing down a load of bile, I sat up, the room rushing around me like a tilt-a-whirl. Below the bed, Finn lay stretched out on the hardwood floor, fast asleep.

  In a rush of images, the events of last night came flooding back to me—the whiskey, Kent, the knife, his bright blue head buried in the snow, kissing Finn.

  Kissing Finn.

  Oh, God, did I kiss Finn?

  I sank back into the mattress, pulling the blankets over my head. Peeking over the covers, I stared at his face, the rise and fall of his broad chest. His long eyelashes fluttered, and his eyes shot open. With a yelp, I burrowed my head back beneath the blankets, cursing beneath my breath.

  “How’s the head?” he asked, collecting himself up off the floor.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He ignored my question, walked over to the small kitchenette on the other side of my studio apartment, and poured a glass of water. Returning to the bed, he set the water into my hands, his fingers sending a wave of electricity through my limbs. Every nerve in my body awakened to his touch, and I curled my legs beneath me, pulling the blanket closer to my chest.

  “You need to rehydrate,” he said.

  I took a swig of water, the cool liquid easing the ache in my head for a moment.

  I gave Finn a sheepish glance. “Who was that guy? The one you…you know.”

  He crossed his arms around his chest. “‘That guy’ was an assassin sent to kill you, which you might have noticed if you weren’t so busy getting drunk and grinding on him.”

  “I wasn’t drunk!”

  Finn gave me a pointed stare.

  “Ok, I was.” I glanced down at my glass. “But the dude must have slipped me a roofie or something. And it did something weird to my…my powers. I shouldn’t have been that out of it.” I took another sip of water and shrugged. “As for the grinding part…”

  My face flushed remembering Kent’s hands on my hips, the way I pressed my breasts against him as he held me close. I guess Finn had seen that.

  Jesus.

  “What can I say? I’m a lovey drunk.” I pressed my palm to my forehead, massaging my throbbing temples.

  Finn’s face darkened. “I watched you. How many shots of whiskey did you have? Eight? Ten? Are you trying to kill yourself?”

  I slammed the glass of water onto the nightstand. “Don’t lecture me. You’re not my fucking father.”

  The shrillness of my voice sent the little drill in my brain probing deeper, and I pressed my arm across my face, resting my elbow on my knee.

  “There’s a hit on your life, Elizabeth!” Finn paced the tiny room, his head grazing the ceiling. “You could have died last night. If I had not been there…”

  “There’s a hit on my life?” I brushed away my ratted hair.

  “Well, obviously!” Finn threw up his hands. “Why else would you explain that Fir Bolg trying to kill you?”

  “Fir Bolg…?” I said.

  “Yes, Fir Bolg, ‘the First Men of Ireland’? What one of them wanted with you, I have no idea. I’m just glad I was there in time.”

  “What were you doing there?” I sat up straighter in bed. “Are you following me?”

  “No!” he cried. Then he started pacing again. “Well, maybe…”

  “I don’t want you stalking me, Finn. It’s over, all right!”

  Finn stopped, and his eyes flickered to my coat draped across the overstuffed armchair in the corner. My cheeks burned and I swallowed hard, the inscription in the book, beneath “No Second Troy,” branded into my brain.

  Love always, Finn.

  “I know it’s over, Elizabeth,” he said quietly. “You made that very clear in Tír na nÓg.”

  “Yes, after you lied to me.”

  “I never lied to you.”

  “Lying by omission is still lying, Finn.”

  He sighed and looked like he was going to say something, but then he shook his head and tried again. “Yes, I followed you to the club last night, but I needed to speak to you. I am here on business, actually. And…” He crossed his arms and held up his chin. “I don’t regret saving your life.”

  His eyes softened, and for a moment my steely resolve against letting Finn back into my life melted. But then I recalled the last time I saw him, how cavalier he’d been about holing me up in his tower and keeping me as his mistress. I was no kept woman, and besides…I had bigger plans. Plans that involved searching for my mother and making sure Amergin didn’t find her first.

  “Well, thanks.” I pointed to the door. “Now I wish you would leave.”

  A shadow crossed over his eyes, but he recovered with a shake of his head. “I will leave as soon as this business is settled.”

  “What business?”

  He tilted his head. “The business of Dr. Forrester’s will, or have you not been receiving my emails?”

  I hadn’t checked my email since… Well, I couldn’t actually remember. Somehow after realizing I was half-Fae with super powers made modern technology seem just a little bit pedestrian.
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br />   “We have a meeting with the lawyer this afternoon,” he said.

  “I’m in Dr. Forrester’s will?” My former professors, Moiré and Kevin Forrester, had been like family to me before they died. My heart tightened in my chest thinking of their warmth and generosity. They had given me everything when they lived, and it seemed strange to think they actually had more to provide now that they were gone.

  “The lawyer is meeting us at the main house in a couple of hours. Can you be there?”

  “I…I guess.” I hadn’t bought my bus ticket to DC yet, so I figured it could wait another day. “I can’t imagine what they would leave to me.”

  Finn shrugged and looked around at my empty apartment. “Pretty Spartan quarters you have here, Elizabeth.”

  “I got rid of everything I owned, not that it was much.” I played with a loose thread on my blanket. “I’m leaving town tomorrow.”

  “Where are you going?”

  I laughed a little underneath my breath. “I have no idea.” After throwing the sheets away and rising from my bed, I grabbed some underwear, a bra, a T-shirt, and jeans from the duffel bag containing the last of my worldly possessions. “Do you mind turning around for a second?”

  Finn’s eyes danced with barely suppressed mischief. “I know what you look like naked.”

  I thumbed the lacy edging of my bra, suppressing the shiver of desire running through me. One smoldering stare, and I was ready to hand him my panties in a gift basket.

  “Jesus, Finn,” I whispered.

  He crossed his arms and raised his chin, as if daring me to defy him.

  “Come on. Cut it out.” I sighed.

  “Very well.” He raised his hands in mock surrender and turned around.

  I stripped completely, never letting my gaze leave his back. The sound of my clothes hitting the floor felt unbearably loud, and the tension in the air tightened between us. The cold draft in the apartment hit my naked skin like a wall of ice, and my necklace with the tree of life stamped on a small silver medallion dangled between my breasts.

  “Have you been drinking like that a lot?” Finn’s voice startled me.

  “No,” I lied, pulling my jeans up over my hips. “Erika and John wanted to give me a good send off. They’re grad school friends.”

  “Have you thought about talking to someone?” Finn turned his head slightly toward me, forgetting himself. Spying me pulling on my bra, he flushed and stared back at the wall. “About, you know, what happened?”

  I choked out a laugh, pulling my sweater over my head. “Like a therapist? Are you kidding?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “And what would I say? My Fae grandparents made me marry a Dark Lord who used my superpowers to try to destroy the world? Yeah…okay. Whatever.”

  “I just worry about you.”

  The silence stretched out between us, and I stood behind him, my hands twitching to reach out and touch the back of his neck, the wide expanse of his shoulders. I could have done it. One touch and we could have fallen into bed, escaped inside each other. But then what? It would have felt good for a few moments, and then more pain. More loneliness. Buckets of it. Oceans of it.

  “Well, don’t.” Stepping into the bathroom to brush my teeth, I cringed at the sight of myself in the mirror. Dark circles hung beneath my eyes, and my long curly hair stood up from my head in defiance of all the laws of physics. After splashing some cold water on my face, I pulled the wild strands back into a ponytail. Stepping into the main living area and grabbing my coat, scarf, and hat, I turned to Finn. “I need coffee.”

  He shrugged into his coat. “I could go get some for you if you like.”

  The walls of the tiny studio closed in on me, and I wound my scarf tighter around my neck. “No, I could use some air to clear my head.” I glanced at the empty space. “You can wait here, or—”

  He shook his head, opening the front door for me and gesturing outside into the frigid February air. “I have some things to talk to you about.”

  I locked the door behind us, my cheeks burning despite the biting wind outside. Not this again. “Look, I told you…”

  “Not that,” he snapped, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s…Jaysus it’s freezing. Let’s take my car.”

  Grabbing onto the railing, I half slid down the icy steps. “Nah, the coffee shop is just a few blocks from here. Wouldn’t be worth it to find a parking space.”

  A fresh blanket of snow covered the sidewalks. Salty slush stained Finn’s gleaming dress shoes as we crossed the road, and I felt a pang of regret for not taking him up for his offer for a ride. My toes were toasty in my combat boots, but I bet his feet were freezing. We trudged through the Forrester’s neighborhood and onto a busy street lined with coffee shops, a bagel place, and an antique bookstore. Cars crunched and skidded on the snow-packed streets, and I led Finn to a rundown diner on the corner.

  “I know it’s a dive,” I said, skipping over a sheet of black ice. “But the food’s good. And cheap.”

  He held the door open for me and a bell chimed, announcing our arrival. The smell of maple syrup and bacon greeted us as we settled into a red leather booth.

  A middle-aged waitress waddled up to our table. “What can I get you?”

  “I’ll have a coffee, and whatever she wants.” Finn cocked his head toward me.

  “You’re buying me breakfast?”

  Finn drummed his fingers on the table and gave me a hooded stare. “A lady never pays.”

  “Especially when that lady is flat-ass broke,” I countered. Smiling, I turned to the waitress. “I’ll have a Western omelet with cheddar cheese and hash browns. Oh, and add bacon. Could I also get a small side of blueberry pancakes and a fruit cup? And some coffee, please.” A deep, gnawing hunger for anything deep fried and covered in grease had replaced my nausea, and since Finn was buying, I settled for nothing less than the best hangover helper.

  The waitress brought our coffee and sauntered to the kitchen to place our order.

  Finn pinched three sugar packets between his fingers and shook them before tearing them all open and unloading them into his cup.

  I chuckled. “You like a little coffee with your sugar?”

  His spoon clattered on the edge of his cup. “Sorry?”

  “Nothing.” I took a sip and stole a glance at him over the rim of my mug. So the rough and tough alpha Irish warrior had a sweet tooth. Never would have guessed it. It occurred to me how little I actually knew about Finn. About his daily life, how he moves through the world. Stupid shit like his favorite color, his favorite movies. Do Fianna warriors even go to the movies?

  God, who cares?

  I needed to change the subject. Fast. “So Amergin let you out of your cage, huh?”

  “He does not keep me locked in a cage, but yes, I was granted permission to travel here to meet with Kevin’s lawyer.” His eyes shifted to the table. “But…there is something else.”

  “Yeah?” I gulped down another sip of coffee, the caffeine doing little to abate the pounding in my ears. My stomach rumbled audibly, and heat bloomed in my face.

  Finn shook his head. “You should eat first.”

  “No. Tell me.”

  The muscle in his jaw flickered. “You need breakfast.”

  I leaned back with a heavy sigh. “Oh my God, just tell me.”

  “You haven’t been eating.” Finn’s eyes softened, his fingers lingering on the stem of his spoon.

  I rolled up my fists inside my sweater and curled my arms around me. “I’ve been eating.”

  “You look like a ghost.”

  “Jesus, Finn. I know you didn’t drive all the way up here to tell me to eat a sandwich.” I folded my knees up under me, his hard gaze making me feel like a bug at the end of a pin.

  His mouth tightened and he averted his eyes, studying the pattern on the Formica table. “Since Amergin stripped me of my rank, I’ve been demoted to initiate. In the Fianna, all initiates are given a ques
t of sorts. In recent years, it’s just been a formality, but…Amergin decided to raise the stakes with me this time.”

  “So what’s your quest?” I took another sip of coffee. “Destroy the one ring?”

  He looked up and pegged me with a solemn stare. “He wants me to find your mother.”

  An instinctual, protective rage boiled up inside me, and I released the sleeves of my sweater and slammed my palms on the table. “What does Amergin want with my mother?”

  Finn raised a hand. “I don’t know. She is the daughter of the Fae King. That alone is enough.”

  I gritted my teeth. “No, it’s not. It’s never enough for Amergin.”

  “What does it matter? Look, I know you are setting out to look for her. We could join forces—”

  “No!” I shouted, and other diners looked over at us.

  “No,” I began again in a harsh whisper. “I don’t trust you, and I definitely don’t trust Amergin. There’s no way I’m helping the Fianna—not after…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence as memories of being married to Bres the Beautiful and tortured by the monk Lorcan flashed in my mind.

  Finn leaned forward, the leather seams on his trench coat creaking. “I can help you. I have connections, access to places you do not know about.”

  Fingers tingling, I sent the salt shaker zooming across the table and into my hands. “I have access to places, too, Finn.”

  “That is not what I mean.” Finn’s hand slipped into his jacket. “I found something.”

  He set a photograph down on the table. It was a group photo of some sort, but I could tell immediately that there was something different about the people in the picture. They weren’t people at all.

  “A bunch of Fae. So what?” I said, handing the photograph back to Finn.

  “Look closely, Elizabeth.”

  Bringing it closer, I studied the faces in the old Polaroid, the edges of it mottled and browning. The bar of a pub stretched out behind them, and in the far corner, half hidden in shadow, stood my mother.