Finn kissed the edge of my ear, his body shaking. We stayed like that in the water for a few moments, and then he drew himself out of me, leaning back into the tub and drawing me into his arms.
“I do believe I have soiled you, my lady,” he said.
I smiled against his chest. “And you were so thorough.”
I listened to his beating heart growing slower and steadier under my palm.
“I love you,” I said after what felt like an eternity.
“I love you, too, Elizabeth. My wild Elizabeth, my beautiful Elizabeth.”
I twisted in the water to face him. “Are you sorry that you left the Fianna? Do you regret what has happened? Do you ever wish for your old life?”
His face clouded with confusion. “Where did this come from?”
I felt heat rise to my face, and I traced the faint trail of dark hair on his chest with my fingers. “It’s nothing, it’s just…I think of the mess we’re in and…”
Finn tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Why do you doubt me?”
“I don’t—”
“Whatever we face, we’ll face it together.”
“I know. But my Mom. The Fir Bolgs. None of this is your fight.”
Finn sighed, his eyes glancing up to the ceiling before leveling me with a hard gaze. “I belong to you, Elizabeth. Of course this is my fight.”
Silence extended between us, only broken by the sound of water lapping on the side of the tub.
“I just wonder sometimes,” I said, turning away and folding my knees to my chest. “I wonder if you might have been better off in the Fianna, if you would have been safer there.”
“Safe? Do you think I’m weak, Elizabeth?”
The edge in his voice sent prickles down my spine.
“No, I—”
“I may be an outcast, but don’t question my courage, woman.” He rose from the bathtub, the water swishing everywhere, over the sides and up against my chest.
He grabbed his shirt, dressing with strained, jerking motions. With a loud rent of cotton, a ragged rip cut through his sleeve. He cursed and threw it off his shoulders and to the floor.
“Finn, I’m sorry.” I scrambled out from the bathtub, throwing a towel around my body, water puddling at my feet. I picked up his shirt and wrung it in my hands. The tear had slit against the seam, and I rubbed the broken threads against my thumb.
“Please, don’t be angry,” I whispered.
He whirled around, brushing wet hair away from his face. “You don’t know how to let me in, let me look after you. I am your man. You are my woman. And I will love you, dammit. And you will know what that means. For once in your life you will know what that means.”
I clutched Finn’s shirt tight against my chest. “Is this because I don’t want to talk about what happened?”
He shook his head, his mouth set in a grim line. “Talk about it. Don’t talk about it. But don’t you dare push me away again.”
I looked down and studied the rent in Finn’s shirt, wrinkling my nose, trying to suppress the flood of tears pressing against my eyelids. “I…can fix this.”
“What?”
“This tear. I know how to sew.” I glanced up at Finn, blinking hard. “I can fix this.”
“Who taught you how to sew?” Finn’s voice softened, and he stepped toward me.
“My father.” I folded the seam back together, pressing it between my fingers. “He said all good soldiers should know how to sew. I don’t know why. Seems like a silly thing, you know? But I can…I can fix this.”
Finn’s heavy arms enveloped me.
“I can fix this,” I whispered in a choked voice.
“All right now.” He caressed my hair, making small shushing sounds as I sobbed into his chest. The events of the past week, the hospital, the escape, all of it came crashing down on me.
“Don’t cry now,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You’re all right, Elizabeth. You’re all right now.”
I wiped my face with the back of my hand, and the towel I had gripped across my chest fell to the floor. I went to snatch it, but Finn placed his hands on my hips and drew me to him. He kissed me deeply, and my knees weakened with the force of it. In one swift movement, he collected me into his arms, cradling me like a child. He placed me gently on the bed and walked back to the stack of towels, fumbling for a moment until he found a long frothy-white nightgown and a comb. Raising my arms, he slipped it over me, the yards of gauzy cloth billowing around me like a cloud. He sat behind me and began to comb through my wild curls, gently, painstakingly. We didn’t speak a word, the whisper of the comb the only sound in the room as he passed it through the long strands of my hair. When he was finished, he swept my hair to one side and kissed my neck, nestling me against the downy softness of the pillow, tucking me in under the soft blankets. I was already half asleep as Finn blew out the candles illuminating the room. He settled into bed behind me, drawing me closer to him, the weight of his arm over my shoulder warming me beneath the cool sheets.
“Finn,” I whispered.
“Hmm?”
“You can be my man, okay?”
“Hmm.”
“There’s just one thing. One thing I ask.”
“What?”
“We sit down and listen to Sgt. Pepper’s together.”
Finn breathed an exasperated sigh into my hair.
“I mean it.”
“Go to sleep, Elizabeth.”
“‘A Day in the Life’? You can’t tell me you don’t love that song.”
“Shhh…”
“Okay,” I said. “I love you.”
But Finn was already asleep, and soon enough, I was, too.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The dazzling morning light outside strained my eyes, and across the drawbridge, the viscous swirls of a ward spanned up through the sky. Malachy swept his arm out, motioning for me to walk in front.
“They’ve warded the castle,” he said. “So I can’t travel from inside.”
I hadn’t quite mastered the art of traveling to unknown places, or places without energies I could recognize. Malachy planned to take us to London, but the thought of placing our lives in his hands made my breakfast do a flip-flop in my stomach. I looked over at Finn, his eyes narrowed on the dearg-dubh, the muscle in his jaw twitching.
I closed my eyes and threw my energy over everyone, pulling us through the ward and to the other side.
“Brilliant,” Malachy breathed behind me.
Waves of blue flowers coated the ground, a strong wind blowing their petals eastward.
Malachy clapped a hand on Eamonn’s back. “I’ll take the Druid first and check into the inn.”
“Not a chance.” Finn brushed past Eamonn and planted his feet in front of Malachy. “You’re not leaving my sight.”
He shrugged. “Very well, Fianna. Take my hand.”
Finn frowned at Malachy’s outstretched palm and, with a gruff sigh, grasped his hand. They popped out of sight, a cool wind blowing petals up to where their forms had stood seconds before.
Eamonn and I sat on the grass, staring up at the towers of Teamhair.
“So,” I said, breaking the awkward silence between us. “There’s something I wanted to ask you.”
“Yeah?” Eamonn brushed his shaggy hair out of his eyes.
“The gemel. Why is it that I can travel through wards, move objects, create portals, but I can’t get through those freaking things? It just doesn’t seem right.”
Eamonn nodded, folding his fingers in his lap. “Gemel is ancient Celtic magic created to secure and trap the Fae. To undo those spells, you would have to understand their particular weaves in more sophisticated ways. But with gemel, part of the enchantment is being able to see the weave in the first place. You can’t undo what you can’t see. That’s the brilliant part of it.”
He turned to me, grinning like a school boy, his eyes glittering. But when he saw my stony stare, his smile dropped. “Brilliant b
ut problematic, of course. It’s a difficult spell, to be sure.”
“So you mean I could potentially learn how to break through those bonds?”
Eamonn winked at me. “When it comes to magic, Elizabeth, anything is possible.”
We sat in companionable silence for a moment.
“Are you sure you want to return to the mortal world, Eamonn?” I twirled a flower between my thumb and forefinger, watching the petals spin in a blur of blue. “Aren’t you concerned about getting caught?”
He shrugged. “I heard Grainne is in London now, working out of there.”
I hugged myself, Grainne’s tinkling laugh running through my mind.
“You miss her,” I whispered.
He nodded, gritting his teeth and staring straight ahead.
Malachy appeared in front of us, his hand outstretched. “What’s with the glum faces? Come on, now. London’s calling!” His eyes sparkled, his fingers luring us forward.
I gave Eamonn one last glance and both of us jumped up, brushing grass from our cloaks. Malachy smiled, and in an instant we were barreling through a suffocating mist, sheets of white clouds brushing against my face in icy tendrils. The Veil functioned differently for dearg-dubh, the whole pattern of the weave folding our bodies up into its infinite patterns with an enormous pressure. Nausea gripped my stomach, and my head felt like it was encased in freezing concrete. It didn’t want us there. I could feel its dark desire to reject us, push us back, but then the pain lessened and we moved through the mist, the world on the other side materializing in a swirl of black dots.
I stumbled as my feet found solid ground again. I blinked, still holding onto Malachy but standing in a room with cracking gray walls that might have been white once. Two queen-sized beds took up most of the room, and pilling orange bedspreads covered the sagging mattresses. Finn sat on one, his face turned down and frowning at the floor. Frayed curtains covered the windows, and the rush of traffic blared up from a busy street below. An ancient TV with a rabbit-ear antenna sat in the corner, and a cockroach ran across the bulbous screen then disappeared.
“What a shithole,” I said beneath my breath.
“It’s fair accommodations for the supernatural, Princess.” Malachy ran his finger down the nightstand, then rubbed away the dust between his fingers. “Or would you perhaps prefer the London sewers?”
“Um, no thanks.” I wandered over to the window and peered outside. A line of brownstones faced us, broken up by the occasional cheery pub sign or convenience store. A red double-decker bus turned the corner, and I let out a small gasp of excitement.
“Whoa! So those busses aren’t just in the movies?” I burst out.
“First time in London, I take it?” Malachy’s voice echoed in my ear, and I jumped.
“Best to keep out of sight.” He leaned over and yanked the curtains shut. “We don’t know who might be watching.”
“So now what?” Finn rose and paced the tiny room.
Malachy tilted his head and smiled. “The first thing I need to do is find some decent attire.” He brushed invisible dirt from his sleeves. “I need to pay a visit to an old friend, and it just won’t do for me to be looking shabby.”
Finn towered over the dearg-dubh. “What’s your plan, Malachy? Who is this old friend?”
He smiled. “Oh, don’t you worry about it. You three can hang back here, and—”
I darted forward. “Um, excuse me? This is our mission. Who are you going to see?”
Malachy raised his palms. “It would probably be best if—”
“No.” I shook my head. “You may have given us some good intel, but you’re not in charge here. I am.”
Finn snorted, and I made a mental note to punch him later.
“And that means,” I continued, “you tell us what you intend to do. All of it.”
Malachy let out a long sigh, his grimace turning to a dazzling smile as he exhaled all the air from his lungs. “Fair enough, Princess. I am going to see Torc Triath.”
“What?” Finn shouldered his way past me, a deep frown plastered on his face.
“Who’s Torc Triath?” I asked, my gaze darting between Malachy and Finn, the two of them locked in a staring contest.
Eamonn cleared his throat. “Torc is a shapeshifter. A púca. You might recall him as a mythological boar figure from the Arthurian legends.”
“Aye,” Finn said. “And he’s also a notorious, murdering thief, with his own file cabinet devoted to him at Trinity London.”
Malachy nodded. “Yes, well. He’s the cenn fine of London, and Anny pays tribute to him. He’s the only person who can get close to her.”
“You said you knew her location!” I planted my fists on my hips. “You said you could get to her.”
The dearg-dubh backed up a few steps, doing his best Kanye shrug. “Well, London is technically her location.”
I turned around with a disgusted sound, shaking my head and crossing my arms over my chest.
“And…” Malachy continued. “I can get to her…with Torc’s help.”
“Great,” I muttered under my breath. It all seemed so simple when we left. Malachy would take us to Anny Black, we would break the portal, find my mom. Easy peasy. But of course, nothing could ever be simple.
“Why should Torc help you?” Finn pressed. “Maybe he knows about the weapon smuggling. Maybe he has a stake in it.”
“Ah, no,” Malachy said. “Torc and the Fir Bolgs are sworn enemies. He’s going to be furious when he learns what that witch has been up to. All our intel pointed to the fact that Anny was doing this on the side.”
“Intel can be wrong,” Finn said. “And regardless, he might kill you all just for talking to a Fianna warrior.”
“Ex-Fianna,” I said flatly.
Malachy shrugged again, buttoning up his tattered coat and sauntered toward the door. “Anyway, if I’m going to see Torc, I need to clean up a bit. I should be back in about an hour.”
I squeezed between the dearg-dubh and the exit. “No. We stick together.”
Finn hovered beside me. “Right. I still don’t trust you, Malachy.”
The dearg-dubh turned, clutching at his chest. “Oh, Finn, you’re breaking my heart.”
Finn glared at the vampire.
Malachy threw his hands in the air. “Fine. Let’s all go shopping. We’ll have to take the back way out of here.”
Malachy open the door and waved us through. We walked down a long hallway covered in a ragged red carpet, and at the end stood a soda machine with a yellowed Out of Order sign taped to it. Malachy reached into his pocket and pulled out two gold coins, and they flashed between his fingertips before he slipped them into the machine. A loud click sounded behind the plastic frame of the machine and it swung open, revealing a set of stairs descending into darkness.
“Welcome to the London Underground,” Malachy said with a slight bow. “The other one. A little light, Druid?”
Eamonn held out his hand and whispered a few indecipherable words. A small ball of blue light formed in the middle of his palm.
“After you,” he said to Malachy, raising his hand like a beacon.
Malachy took off down the steps with Eamonn close behind. Finn gestured to the stairs, and I started my descent with him at my heels. He closed the soda machine door, and the sound echoed through the large chamber. Water dripped all around us, the edge of the wall cold and slimy with algae. Finally, we came to a large tunnel, and a small trickle of water ran down the middle. Finn and I shared an uneasy glance. Malachy appeared entirely unperturbed, humming a little beneath his breath, but I still couldn’t help but wonder if he was leading us into a trap.
“Come.” He pointed down the tunnel. “To the right here.”
The muffled sounds of the city rained down from above, and thin rays of pale light filtered through grates and sewer drains. Something large and furry scampered across my foot, and I shrieked, clutching Finn.
“It’s just a rat, Elizabeth.” He chuck
led.
I gave him a small shove. “It startled me.” I leaned toward Finn and whispered in his ear. “Do you think this is safe?” I tilted my head toward Malachy’s silhouette.
Finn frowned and shook his head. “We’re in this now. He is the only link to stopping the Fir Bolgs and finding your mother.”
“Try to keep up,” Malachy called to us from far ahead.
The tunnel narrowed, and we arrived at a spindly metal spiral staircase. Way at the top, a tiny pinprick of light shone through the darkness.
“Time to climb.” Malachy bounded up the rusty stairs, and they let out a metallic groan with each step. “We’ll be there soon.”
I took a tentative step and swallowed the rise of panic in my chest as the staircase swayed beneath us. The pinprick of light became the opening to a tiny drain about the size of a fist.
“How are we going to fit inside there?” I said.
Malachy ignored me and fitted his fingers within the holes of the drain. He turned it to the left a few clicks, then to the right, and then to the left again.
“It’s a combination,” Finn whispered to himself, no doubt filing Malachy’s movements away for future reference.
Malachy pushed the drain, and with a whoosh of cold air, a trapdoor opened up and fluorescent light streamed through, blinding me for a moment.
I climbed up into the narrow opening and found myself inside a large cooler, its shelves lined with meat, oversized mayonnaise containers, and various bowls of fruit salad.
“What is this?” I turned to Malachy.
“Are we in a restaurant?” Finn said.
The dearg-dubh nodded. “Mark & Spencer’s.”
I wrapped my cloak around me, the frigid air cutting through the thin silk of my gown, the only thing I could find in the castle this morning. “What do we do now?”
Malachy shrugged. “We wait until someone opens the locker, of course.”
Children of the Veil (Aisling Chronicles) Page 25
