Children of the Veil (Aisling Chronicles)

by Colleen Halverson

  “So what?” Orin shrugged. “Phelan is covered with those filthy marks.” He blanched as he followed my gaze down to the swirling writing forever embedded on my arms. “I meant—”

  “The swan is the mark of the Children of Lir,” I said, fighting the urge to pull the cuffs of my sweater farther down my wrists. “The gang my mother belonged to.”

  Finn pulled out the original photograph and the blowup of Malachy’s tattoo Seamus printed out last night. He shoved it in Orin’s face.

  “Look at Malachy’s hand,” I said. “It’s the same tattoo I saw on Phelan that night.”

  Finn tucked the photographs back into his jacket. “Now, do you want to tell us where we can find these púcas?”

  Orin’s eyes locked onto me, the spring green halo around his irises bright as he let out a long sigh. “You can find Phelan at the Back of the Yards on Chicago’s south side.”

  “What are they doing there?” Seamus interjected.

  “Wouldn’t you love to know, Fianna,” Orin spat. “Who knows how these púcas spend their time in the mortal realm?”

  “Púcas have no reason to be in our world.” Seamus edged toward the dearg-dubh. “They don’t feed on mortal blood like your kind do.”

  “Púcas have every reason to be in your world.” Orin’s canines lengthened, and his pale face flushed. “It once belonged to them, or do you not know your history, Seamus O’Brien?”

  “We have a contract, bloodsucker.” Seamus’s eyes narrowed to two dark slits.

  “No. You have a contract,” Orin said. “The Fae just have to live with it.”

  Seamus opened his mouth but then thought better of it. He leaned against the wall, his eyes skimming the length of the dearg-dubh. “You have very strong opinions for a high counselor of the Faerie King. Does he know your objections to this contract?”

  Orin blinked and plastered a fake smile on his perfectly chiseled face. “What? Me? Object to the contract? I am merely stating a fact.”

  Finn cupped my elbow, signaling it was time to go. “We’ll be on our way now.”

  I turned toward the door, but Orin stopped me with the ghostly brush of his fingers. “Elizabeth? A word?”

  Finn made a low sound in his throat, his hand holding me tighter, but I waved him away, nodding toward the door. “Wait for me outside.”

  He surveyed me for a moment and then flashed a look at Orin that would shatter glass before turning to leave. Orin’s gaze remained level until the door clicked shut behind the two Fianna soldiers.

  “Are you insane?” Orin hissed. “How dare you bring that Fianna trash in here.”

  My palms crackled with energy. “Finn is helping me find my mother.”

  “And that Fianna soldier with him? Is he helping you, too?”

  I raised my chin. “I trust them, Orin. That should be good enough for you.”

  Orin sneered. “It’s not good enough. Amergin is manipulating you. He’s dangling Finn in front of you because he knows you will do whatever that man asks of you.”

  I clenched my fists at my sides. “Don’t talk to me about Finn. I’m doing this. I’m finding my mother. Me.”

  “Then why work with them?”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “You want me to go to the south side of Chicago by myself?”

  Orin sighed, his hand bracing himself against the windowsill. “Don’t blind yourself to love, Elizabeth.”

  “I’m not in love with Finn.” The words dangled in the air between us, hollow and empty like the lies they were.

  The dearg-dubh snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t lose sight of who he is, who he works for. You’re smarter than that.”

  I shrugged past Orin, palming the doorknob in my hand. “Finn gets results. That’s all I care about right now. If he can help me find my mother, then it doesn’t matter who he works for.”

  The dearg-dubh hovered behind me. “I’ll remind you of that when Amergin has Niamh in his filthy clutches.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. “Amergin will never have the chance. I’ll kill him first.”

  Squeezing past the heavy door, I let it close in Orin’s face with a hard thud.

  Finn and Seamus lingered in a shadowy alcove, trying to stay out of sight of occasional passing Fae.

  “You ready?” I said in a clipped voice.

  Finn registered the dark look on my face. “Are you all right?”

  “I just want to get out of here.” I closed my eyes, gathering my powers.

  “Not quite yet,” Finn said.

  I cracked open an eyelid and peered up at him.

  “There’s something I want to do first.” Casting a sideways glance across the corridor, Finn ducked down another passage, Seamus quick on his heels.

  “Where are we going?” I whispered, trying to keep up.

  “To visit an old friend,” Finn replied.

  We found Eamonn in a quiet part of the castle poring over an oversized manuscript. His pensive face broke into a wide smile when Finn walked through the door, and he bolted across the room, pulling him in for a manly hug.

  “What brings you all here? And Elizabeth, too?” Eamonn’s eyes glittered, and he brushed his shaggy hair away from his forehead, trying to suppress his surprise.

  Finn met Eamonn’s question with a blank stare, the two of them locked in an intense, wordless exchange. After a pause, the Druid nodded, gesturing back to the room.

  “Please, please…have a seat. Let me make some tea…” He shoved a pile of books aside, in search of a kettle.

  “Don’t bother with that, Eamonn. We can’t stay too long.” Finn moved a stack of manuscripts to the floor and gestured for me to sit down. We crammed together on the small bench while Seamus perched on a side table.

  Eamonn collected some cups from a cabinet, stacking them against his chest.

  “How are things in Teamhair?” I asked.

  “As good as can be expected, I suppose.” Eamonn poured water into a teapot and crumpled a handful of herbs inside. With a few muffled words, the water began to boil and steam rose out of the spout.

  “I wish I could do something so practical,” I said, grinning at the Druid. “I can barely boil water in real life.”

  He gave me a warm nod, pouring the tea for us, the bright green liquid emanating a citrusy, flowery scent. “Well, it’s no breaking wards, but it’s easier than running down to the kitchens each time I need a cup.”

  Giving me a wide smile, he passed the tea into my palm. His eyes flitted to Finn for a moment with a look of worry, but he quickly erased it and placed a cup in Finn’s hands.

  “They have me doing some odd magical jobs around the castle,” Eamonn continued. “Teaching some of the younger Fae simple spells, that sort of thing.”

  “Michael Loren lets you teach the Fae?” Finn said over the brim of his cup.

  My skin bristled at the sound of the Archdruid’s name. He had betrayed me at the last Trinity council and cast the deciding vote that forced me into marriage with Lord Bres of the Fomorians.

  Eamonn handed Seamus a cup of tea and waved his hand, settling back into his chair. “It’s different on the other side. The Fae couldn’t care less about Trinity law. Birog’s encouraged me quite a bit, and I have learned so many things here. The Fae have their own magic. Very old.”

  Finn stared down into his steaming cup. “I’m glad you’re settling in, all things considered.”

  “Oh, it’s good, sure. It’s fine.” Eamonn nodded vigorously and swallowed a little too much tea. His face reddened and he fingered a stack of parchment on his desk. “It’s fine. I’m happy here. Learning so much, you know. It’s grand.”

  Silence settled into the room, and I swung my feet back and forth against the side of the bench, very aware of how Finn’s shoulders tensed at his friend’s attempt to put a positive spin on being in exile.

  “So…” Eamonn cleared his throat. “Have you heard from Grainne?”

  He asked it in an offhand way, but his eyes narrowed on th
e spine of a manuscript on the edge of the desk, his hands gripping the handle of his cup a little too hard.

  Seamus leaned forward. “Grainne’s on her initiate quest. Well, her second one anyway. The last I heard, she was in New York somewhere.”

  “New York?” Eamonn nodded, opening and closing a book. He grabbed a quill, tapped it on the desk, and then set it down again.

  “Aye. Top secret.” Seamus let out a heavy sigh and turned to Finn. “With all due respect to Amergin, it’s ridiculous to have the two of you out on these stupid quests when there’s been so much activity in the mortal world. Did you know, Eamonn, that a veritable army of púcas bombed Orin’s pub in Chicago last night?”

  “Púcas in Chicago, you say?” Eamonn’s hazel eyes darkened to a deep brown.

  “Aye, and we’ve been deporting unregistered dearg-dubh left and right.” Seamus finished his tea and set down his cup with a clatter.

  The Druid looked up from his book, his gaze sharpening. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  Setting my teacup in my palm, I sat up and leaned forward. “Why do you say that?”

  “Far from me to insult the man who saved my life, but…” Eamonn lowered his voice, leveling me with his eyes. “All is not well in Bodb Dearg’s kingdom. This long war with the Fomorians has wiped out his coffers. Taxes are up. The Fae are unhappy, especially those who aren’t represented in his council. There are rumors of rebellion in the west. The Fir Bolgs—”

  “What about the Fir Bolgs?” My grip tightened around my cup.

  Eamonn let out a long exhale. “The Fir Bolgs have basically declared an all out war. That’s where the King is now, trying to squash the rebellion. But…”

  “But what, Eamonn?” I pressed.

  The Druid took a deep breath and lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “The Fir Bolgs have weapons. Modern weapons. They’re somehow enchanting them with magic. No one knows how they’re doing it.”

  Finn sat back on the bench and folded his arms, deep in thought.

  “What do you mean by modern weapons?” I asked.

  Eamonn looked around the room and bit his lip.

  “Can the three of you keep a secret?” he whispered.

  I glanced at Finn and Seamus, who leaned forward, perching on the edge of their seats.

  Without waiting for a reply, Eamonn reached under his desk and pulled out an M4 assault rifle. All of us jumped to standing, hovering around the weapon he gingerly placed on top of his desk.

  “Whoa,” I breathed.

  The rifle was a typical, standard issue weapon, but tiny gears littered the receiver group and small tubes containing a faintly glowing yellow liquid looped tightly around it. Without thinking, I picked it up and all the men in the room backed off, hands raised.

  “Relax, guys. I’ve had weapons training from my dad.”

  Finn placed a firm hand on my elbow. “That’s not just any weapon, Elizabeth.”

  “Yeah, no shit Sherlock.”

  I peered through the thermal sight and the world came into distinct focus. Pointed at a series of potion vials on the wall of Eamonn’s study, the sight detected a sparkly golden glow from the shelf.

  “It seeks out magic.” I placed the weapon back on the desk. “But that sight is American-made. It’s like someone hacked it to make it…special.”

  Finn studied the rifle. “Modern weapons aren’t supposed to work in Tir na nÓg. Any technology backfires. Regina’s pistol barely functions on this side of the Veil. How did they do it?”

  Eamonn sighed, sinking into his chair. He fingered the delicate tubing containing the glowing golden substance. “I have no idea. But someone got a hold of Bel’s cauldron and is using the elixir to manufacture these weapons.”

  “Wait,” I said, eyebrows rising. “Bel’s cauldron?”

  Eamonn ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry, Bel the Druid God. Centuries ago, he blessed his children with a cauldron filled with an elixir that destroys the blessing of immortality. The Druids immerse all Fianna weapons into the cauldron to give them defense from the Dark Fae.”

  “Or the Good Fae, or the not-so-great Fae,” Seamus piped up wryly. “But let’s not split hairs.”

  Finn gave him a pointed look.

  “But a Fae can still die from decapitation, right?” I asked. “A quick knife to the heart?”

  Eamonn nodded. “Yes, but sometimes, it depends on the age of the Fae, of course.”

  “Your kind is unfortunately very hard to kill.” Seamus gazed down his thin nose at me.

  “Watch it, Seamus.” Finn glowered at him, then sighed and rested his head against the wall. “Modern weapons among the Fir Bolgs, an army of púcas in Chicago…” He tilted his head toward Eamonn. “Do you think there might be a rift in the weave?”

  “It makes sense. The Druid shrugged. “But it doesn’t explain how the Fir Bolgs are getting hold of this sophisticated weaponry.”

  “There’s something else,” Finn said. “A Fir Bolg attacked Elizabeth the other night. He was an assassin.”

  “He said something, too,” I piped up. “‘The First Men forever.’”

  “What would the Fir Bolgs want with you?” Eamonn studied me.

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Finn said.

  We all looked at him. It didn’t seem so obvious to me.

  “If the Fir Bolg are collecting and enchanting sophisticated artillery, Elizabeth here is perhaps the best weapon King Bodb Dearg has.” Finn narrowed his shoulders and frowned. “They want to take her out so Bodb Dearg is vulnerable.”

  “Bodb Dearg is vulnerable,” I snorted. “I’m done with Faerie politics.”

  “Well, Faerie politics is not done with you,” Finn replied bitterly. “And right now the Faeries may be the best protection you have.”

  He stood up and paced the floor. “You should stay here in Teamhair. You would be safe here in the castle. We’ll explain what happened with the assassin. The King and Queen will provide you sanctuary.”

  My mouth gaped open. “Are you fucking out of your mind? Give the King five minutes and he’ll marry me off to a leprechaun. No way. I have business to take care of. I need to find my mom.”

  “I will find her,” Finn growled, his hands clenched at his sides.

  Echoes of my chat with Orin flooded my mind, and I stood up, planting my feet. “And give her over to Amergin? Hell no. We may be on the same path Finn, but we have very different destinations.”

  My words rang through the room, and Seamus and Eamonn stared at us, eyes wide.

  Finally, Eamonn stood up. “It is dangerous out there for you, Elizabeth. Maybe…”

  I swiveled my head to face the Druid. “I’m not afraid, Eamonn.”

  He gave me a sad smile and raised his hand. “I know. If you need my help, please tell me what I can do.”

  I wandered over to the table and ran my hands across the clockwork gears on the rifle, and the golden light flooded through the tubing, glittering beneath my touch. “We need to figure out how these things work. If the Fir Bolgs are after me, I’ll need to know what’s in their arsenal.”

  Eamonn brightened, and he clutched a stack of parchment to his chest. “I’ve already started.”

  “Good.”

  Finn gave me a fleeting glance, and then he shook his head, staring down at the floor.

  “What?” I snapped.

  He lifted his gaze and his grey eyes bore into me. “Nothing.”

  “We should probably be going,” Seamus said, hopping down from the desk to the floor.

  We said our good-byes to Eamonn and traveled back to Fianna headquarters. Finn barely acknowledged me as he walked down the hall with Seamus, already discussing strategy for tonight’s raid on Phelan’s compound. I stared at his retreating form until he turned the corner, and then I backed against a wall, inhaling deeply.

  I had no desire to get involved in Bodb Dearg’s war, but the Fir Bolgs had left me no choice. And while I knew Finn wanted me to be safe, the truth was I
wasn’t safe anywhere. And having my own arsenal of sparkly assault rifles wouldn’t hurt my odds of survival. At that point, though, I didn’t know which war was going to kill me first—the war with the First Men or the war in my head every time Finn stood next to me.

  Chapter Eight

  “I can see about seven of them.” Seamus dropped the binoculars from his face and turned to Finn. “Two men patrolling the main door, one on the roof. The others are making their rounds every ten minutes.”

  “Where are the rest?” I said from the back seat.

  Finn ignored me, grabbing the binoculars from Seamus.

  I had begged Finn to take me with them on the Fianna’s raid on the púca’s hideout in the Back of the Yards. He had insisted it was too dangerous, but I was adamant. The goal was to sneak in and take Phelan for questioning, leaving the rest of the púcas for the other Fianna to sort out. Taisha certainly didn’t want me coming along on this mission, but she didn’t necessarily want me sitting alone at Trinity house, either. In the end, she relented, but on the condition I remain in the SUV.

  Steam rose from the grates, creating a thick mist in the coal-choked air, and a car tore through the haze then parked in front of the púca’s warehouse. Phelan and two other púcas stepped out of the vehicle and made their way inside the boarded-up building.

  Finn spoke into a walky-talky. “Phelan is going in. Seamus can take out the man on the roof and the two by the door, but someone will have to cover the patrols.”

  The walky-talky crackled to life. “Copy that,” Taisha clipped. “We’ll be right behind you. Over.”

  “Copy.” Finn turned to me. “You stay here. Do not move. The SUV is bulletproof. Keep the doors locked.”

  “Sure,” I said, picking off an invisible piece of lint from my coat.

  “I mean it.” Finn sighed, trying to make eye contact. “Stay in the car until we nab Phelan.”

  I turned to him. “Stay in the car. Do not move. Got it.”

  “And no traveling, either.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” I smiled sweetly at him, but my fingers tingled, the excitement surrounding the raid triggering my powers.