Finn took hold of the case and clicked it shut.
“Probably not wise to touch it until you get it appraised by an expert, right, Elizabeth?” he said through gritted teeth.
“Yeah…I guess?” I quirked my eyebrow, and he gave me a pointed look in return.
“So that’s it.” Bill clapped his hands together. “If the two of you don’t mind signing these forms…” He prattled on a little about a few other formalities, but after we signed all the appropriate papers, he shook our hands and left.
“Ok,” I said after closing the door on Bill, “what is up with that spear? Holy shit!”
Finn folded his arms. “Elizabeth, that is not just any spear.”
“Yeah, I know! Did you see the barbs on that thing? Let’s go play with it!” Finn grasped my arm before I could open the case again.
“No. I mean, it is a magical gift. Do you know the Cú Chulainn story?”
I nodded. “Cú Chulainn. Legendary warrior, ran with the hounds…had freaky warp spasms…”
Finn sighed. “The Gáe Bulg was Cú Chulainn’s spear, Elizabeth. A gift from Scáthach, the warrior woman who taught him to fight.”
“No way…” I whispered, eyeing the case.
“It is not a toy. We need to be careful.”
“Yeah, I get it.” I knelt down by the case. “But, whatever it is, Moiré wanted me to have it, so…” I reached inside and felt an intense pull between my hand and the spear. It flew into my hands, and I swung the spear in an arc. As if controlled by invisible strings, I danced around the room with it, swinging it in the air with a kind of balance and grace I’d never before possessed.
I laughed as the spear directed my movements. “Finn! Check it out, I’m like a ninja!”
He growled deep in his throat, leaning against the doorway and eying me with a dark stare.
I met his gaze, and my feet led me toward him. I couldn’t control my movements, the spear taking control of my whole body. With a whirl, I brandished the spear, and it made right for his neck. I screamed, trying to let go of the weapon.
Finn’s eyes grew large as saucers, and he ducked at the last moment. “Gaisced Uath!”
His sword materialized in a flash of steel.
A cold sweat broke out on my forehead as I tried to pull my hands away from the wooden shaft, but the spear worked on its own, jabbing straight for Finn’s heart.
“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted as he parried the attack.
“I don’t know!” The spear grazed his arm, and he danced backward, knocking over a lamp. Blocking another attack, he grunted against the force of the spearhead.
I circled him like a Jedi, my feet moving in an intricate series of steps before swiping at his knees. Panic gripped my chest, and I tried with all the strength I had to resist its vicious pull.
“It’s the spear! I can’t let go! I can’t control it!”
“What do you mean you can’t control it?” Finn cried, blocking the attack.
“DO I LOOK LIKE CHUCK NORRIS TO YOU?”
I spun the spear in a wide arc, Finn’s sword ringing out on impact. The force of the block threw him off balance, and he staggered back, catching his heel on the carpet. Landing flat on his ass, he recovered, bringing up his sword right before I pierced his insides. But with a quick flick of the barbed spearhead, Finn’s sword flew out of his hands.
The weapon forced me to raise it up, the sharp point gleaming before I sent it barreling toward Finn’s throat.
He shouted something in Druid and the spear disappeared.
“Jesus Christ!” Collapsing on top of Finn, I held his face in my trembling hands. “Oh my God, are you okay?” I ran my fingers down his body, searching for cuts. “Did I hurt you? Oh my God Finn, I’m so sorry, the spear—”
Finn gave me a reassuring glance, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I’m fine.” He grabbed my hands, covering them with his own. “Are you all right?”
“What the actual fuck, Moiré?” I blinked back hot tears of relief, leaning against the couch. “You couldn’t put a warning label on that thing?”
Finn let out a deep breath. “No, it’s my fault. I knew the spear had powers, I just didn’t know…” He placed his hand at the back of my head and smoothed my hair. “’Tis all right, Elizabeth. I’m fine.”
His touch sent a shiver down my spine and our eyes locked. I couldn’t believe I’d almost killed him with that crazy spear. Adrenaline pumped through me, and I gasped for air, trying to push down a wave of nausea. Swallowing hard, I broke his stare and stood up, brushing dust from my jeans.
“What did you do?” I readjusted my ponytail. “Where’s the spear now?”
“In the Druid-created anti-space the Fianna use to store our weapons.”
“Uh…what?”
Finn ignored me and looked back at the empty case splayed open on the coffee table. “So strange my spell would work to make it disappear. It’s as if Moiré knew…”
“Knew what?”
Finn shrugged. “Fianna weapons are infused with spells only the wielder of that weapon can use. The Druids gave us this magic. There is one exception, of course.”
“What’s that?”
“Your trainer can use his or her own spell to make an initiate’s weapon appear or reappear. Moiré was my trainer. She knew my spell. She was the one who taught it to me.”
My mind started putting together the pieces. “So you’re saying…?”
“Moiré placed my spell on this spear. She must have known about you…known that we would come together somehow. She must have wanted me to train you.”
“But how? How would she have known about me?”
Finn’s hands brushed across the crushed velvet inside the case. “Moiré was ex-Fianna. She knew how to look into someone’s past. Or maybe she just…knew. Moiré had a strange sixth sense about her.”
A memory flashed in my mind of me standing alone at the graduate student mixer, peeling the label off my craft beer and shyly making eye contact with a small woman with short black hair. Her brown eyes widened, and she excused herself from a group of grad students. Confident as a raven in her trim pantsuit, Moiré slinked up to me and placed a gentle hand on my pilling sweater, a warm smile spreading across her sharp features.
You must be Elizabeth.
As if she had been expecting me. Locking arms, she pulled me into the throng of people like an honored guest. I had no idea what she had seen in me, but for the first time I felt I might be someone.
A long silence settled into the room, and I ran my toe along the edge of the carpet. “So am I going to get it back?”
“You will get your spear back when you know how to use it.”
I balked at Finn. “Use it? Did you see me? I was totally kicking your ass!”
Finn’s face flushed with anger. “It’s not funny, Elizabeth. You could have killed me.”
My shoulders slumped, my heart sinking into my chest. “I’m sorry.”
Finn loomed over me. “A weapon like that requires a strong hand. Control. I shall teach you, Elizabeth. It’s what Moiré wanted.”
I knocked against his shoulder. “A strong hand, huh? You sure you can keep up with me?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I can keep up.” He pushed me back a little too hard.
“Hey!”
“That’s for almost decapitating me,” Finn said in a low voice, but the side of his mouth tilted upward.
I pushed him back. “Cut it out!”
In a flash, he slung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I screamed through a fit of giggles, the room tilting upside down.
“Or you’ll do what?” Finn whirled me around the room. “Or you’ll do what, Elizabeth?”
“Put me down!” I squealed, banging my fists against his back.
“Oh, not so tough now without your spear, are you!”
“I mean it, Finn!”
Before I could yell at him again, he dropped me gently onto the couch, his face
hovering over mine. Panting, I stared up at him, biting my lip. My sweater had gathered below my chest, and he pulled it down, his fingers grazing over my belly button. He made a low sound in his throat and stood up, then held out his hand and pulled me up from the couch. His face turned cold, and he turned away from me.
“Grab your things,” he said over his shoulder. “We should try to make Chicago before nightfall.”
Chapter Five
We sped down the highway, the enormity of the Windy City rising out of the Midwest plains in a futuristic sprawl of light and steel, the skyline shimmering in the twilight.
“So what’s Orin doing in Chicago?” I asked.
Finn and I had barely spoken a word during the whole drive, except to argue over the radio. After one raucous chorus of me singing along to “Sweet Child of Mine” at the top of my lungs, he slammed the power button, and we continued the ride in awkward silence.
“That is an excellent question.” Finn merged lanes, the car weaving in and out of traffic like a shade. “Officially, he is hunting and seeing to his legitimate business interests in the mortal world.”
“And unofficially?”
“The Fianna have reason to suspect Orin is heavily involved in black market activities in Chicago.” He narrowed his eyes on the road.
“Do dearg-dubh live among humans like that? I thought they just ate and ran?”
“It used to be that way, but over time the Fianna negotiated a treaty in which the dearg-dubh could participate in mortal activities to support themselves this side of the Veil. All of them are heavily monitored by the Fianna, of course. We keep track of them, their kills. We make sure they’re playing by the rules.”
I snorted. “Doesn’t that seem a little…oppressive?”
“Do you want dearg-dubh running wild through the streets of Chicago?”
“Well, no, but…it just seems a little…Orwellian. If they’re not breaking Trinity laws, why the police state?”
“I think you’re exaggerating a bit. We have a treaty that says—”
“Fuck your treaty,” I interrupted, louder than I intended. “It’s no wonder the Children of Lir rebelled.”
Finn gripped the wheel hard, his muscles tensing. “The magical world requires law and order. The Fae can be treacherous. Some of them like to mess with mortals. They need supervision.”
“And what about me?” I asked in a small voice. “Am I treacherous? Do I need supervision?”
“Elizabeth, you know what I mean—”
“No, I don’t. It sounds to me like someone’s been drinking Amergin’s Kool-Aid again.”
He let out a long sigh. “I have been fighting Fae for two hundred years. As long as they abide by the laws, there is no problem. But many refuse.”
“They refuse because the laws are stupid. Why hasn’t the Faerie King tried to renegotiate? Why all this control?”
“Bodb Dearg cares nothing for the mortal world.”
“Between the devil and the deep blue sea.”
“What?”
“Let’s just get to where we’re going,” I muttered into the window, my chin planted firmly in my hands. The buildings grew taller and taller as we made our way into the city center. My throat tightened, and I swallowed the anger welling up inside me. Trinity, the secret organization that ruled over the three secret magical races of Ireland—the Fae, the Fianna, and the Druids—appeared as a council, but Amergin of the Fianna clearly orchestrated the magical landscape to his own preferences.
Finn remained silent. We turned onto Lower Wacker Drive and rushed through a series of dark tunnels weaving beneath the city. The angular lines of the pillars looked like an underground troll kingdom, and waves of steam breathed through the cold air, creating an ethereal mist illuminated by the orange lights.
We drove up onto a ramp, and came to a row of aging Neo-Gothic buildings with arched windows and gargoyles on the balustrade. Poorly lit and eerily quiet, it was the kind of street you could find only if you knew exactly where you were going.
Finn stopped the car and looked at me, his leather jacket crackling against the strain of his shoulder muscles.
“I’m sorry. You are absolutely right.” He sighed, staring down at his hands in his lap. “I suppose I have been with the Fianna for too long. The old prejudices die hard. Will you forgive me?”
He turned to me and the thin lamplight shone through the strands of his silky dark hair. For a moment, I forgot what we were talking about, and my breath caught in my throat. I suppressed the urge to crawl over the stick shift, push his seat down, and force him into unspeakable acts. I jammed my fists into my pockets, turning away with a long exhale, watching my breath crystallize in front of my face. While Finn might have been a more open-minded member of the Fianna, a tiger didn’t change its stripes. I had to remember that.
“We’re cool,” I said.
Finn’s gaze felt like a brand searing into my shoulder, and we sat in silence, listening to the click and clack of the warm engine cooling in the arctic air.
He motioned to the street. “I know it does not look like much, but inside that second building is Orin’s club Scáth, catering specifically to dearg-dubh clientele. This is a dangerous place for anyone with mortal blood. You must stay close to me, do you understand?”
I rolled my eyes and flashed him a bored stare. “Hey, do you remember that time I made a dude’s head explode with my own mind?”
Finn gave me a dark look. “Elizabeth, the dearg-dubh are—”
“Or the time I teleported an entire army of Fomorians?”
“Don’t—”
“Or that time I used my telekinesis to mow down thousands of soldiers? My memory is a bit blurry on that part because I was too busy harnessing the entire power of the universe.”
A staring contest commenced, and finally Finn shook his head and fumbled for the door handle. “Just let me do the talking.”
“Go for it.” I slammed the car door behind me. “I have absolutely nothing to say to Orin.”
We walked up to a heavy oak door with a small window in the middle of it. Finn gave it a firm knock and the window slid open, the anemic face of a dearg-dubh peering through it.
“Céard atà uait?” the dearg-dubh barked in Irish. What do you want?
“Is mise Finn O’Connell an Fianna,” Finn replied to the dearg-dubh, introducing himself. He proceeded to demand to see Orin. “Ba mhaith liom a fheiceáil Orin.”
The dearg-dubh mumbled something to Finn about him being a new initiate now, and Finn’s face flushed with rage.
“Do you have any mortals in there?” Finn said in a dark voice, switching to English. “Would you like for me to come back with the entire Fianna for a raid? I am here to see Orin. Nothing more.”
The dearg-dubh muttered a curse in Irish and slammed the small window shut. The door unlocked with a click, and we stepped inside.
The air hung heavy with smoke, and it drifted in silky trails through the dim light emanating from the crystal chandeliers. Black drapery framed the room, and velvet sofas opened up to a small dance floor pulsing with dearg-dubh. The bass of techno music punched me in the gut and the high screeching guitars split through my skull. Deep in the shadows, a mortal woman lay splayed across a couch with a euphoric look in her eyes, her face contorting in orgasm as two dearg-dubh fed off her, their normally pale, translucent eyes bloodshot with hunger.
I elbowed Finn in the gut. “Check it out!” I hissed in his ear, then nodded toward the mortal woman. “Should we help her?”
“We’re here to see Orin,” he growled in my ear, marching to the back of the club.
I placed my hand on his arm. “But they’re going to kill her.”
“If the Fianna had to save every mortal stupid enough to get in the path of a dearg-dubh, then we would never have time for anything else. The dearg-dubh are strictly bottom-feeders. She’s probably a murderer herself.”
We walked down a narrow hallway until we came to a door with the si
gn No Admittance hanging on it. Finn barged in without knocking.
Orin sat before a small desk, typing away on a laptop, the blue light of the screen gleaming across his pale skin. The last time I saw him, he sat in the medieval castle of Teamhair, hunched over a piece of parchment, with a quill in hand. I had no idea how he managed to straddle these two worlds.
“So a Fae and a Fianna walk into a bar…” Orin said without looking up. He slammed his laptop closed and leaned back in his chair. “Sounds like the beginning of some terrible joke.”
Finn leaned over Orin’s desk. “We have questions for you.”
The dearg-dubh quirked an eyebrow. “I’m sure you’re not the only one.”
“And why would that be?” Finn asked.
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know…initiate.”
“I would prefer it if you didn’t call me that,” Finn said through gritted teeth.
“Believe me, Finn O’Connell, it is much preferable than the other names I could call you.”
The two men glared at each other.
“Okay, enough.” I stepped up to the desk. “Can we stop this pissing contest? I’ve got better things to do than watch you two measure your dicks all night.”
Finn flashed me a warning look, but he reached into his coat pocket and retrieved the group picture of the Children of Lir. He passed the photograph to the dearg-dubh, who gave it a cursory glance.
“Do you recognize anyone in this photograph?” Finn said.
Orin looked up at Finn and smiled, his sharp canines protruding slightly. “Perhaps.”
“Look closely, Orin.”
Orin looked again, and I could see his eyes lock onto my mother in the corner, half of her face covered in shadow.
“Niamh,” he whispered, the picture quivering in his hand. “Where did you find this?”
“Buried in the vaults of Trinity London. This is a group of Fae who lived underground there in the 1980s. The Children of Lir. Does that ring a bell for you?”
Orin’s eyes remained glued to the photograph, his white skin turning translucent.
“There are a few dearg-dubh in this picture, but this one”—Finn pointed to the Polaroid—“the one with the black hair is important to us. His name is Malachy Moray. He was a real player once in New York in the 1850s. Do you know him?”
Children of the Veil (Aisling Chronicles) Page 4
