by Tom Mohan
The darkness surrounding the lake grew gray as a thick mist creeped in around the edges of the water. Shadows moved within as yellow and green eyes glowed through the curtain. In the center of the lake, the snake continued to rise.
“Darius!” The name slipped from Liza’s lips.
Instead of transforming as it had earlier, Darius remained in his serpent form. Still, she knew it was him. He swayed from side to side, black eyes never leaving Liza’s. His forked tongue licked the air. Liza had the distinct impression he could taste her terror—that her fear amused him. The snake smiled, if such a thing was possible, sharp fangs glowing pale in the moonlight.
Liza could take no more. She turned to run, but Jacob’s hand held her in place. “Let go of me!” she yelled as she tore her gaze from the undulating serpent. “Let go!”
She pulled harder, and the hand holding hers grew cold, clammy. She turned to Jacob, but it was not Jacob beside her. In his place stood something beyond comprehension. It was human in shape but darker than the night. Solid, yet constantly shifting, as if its bones could not quite figure out how they wanted to connect. The hand that held hers had no fingers but was a dark mass that enveloped her own. She could feel the shifting of the bones within it. Liza screamed and struggled to pull away. Two yellow eyes appeared in the middle of its face, and a deep chuckle emanated from within it.
Again, Liza screamed. Again, she pulled. This time, her hand slipped free of the thing that held her. She stumbled backward and fell to the damp ground. Around her, the mist thickened, closing in. The eyes that hid within the fog grew closer, and she could hear hissing and what sounded like giggles as the circle tightened around her. Her eyes shifted to the pond where the serpent languished on the shore. Liza struggled to clamber to her feet. The scratch on her leg radiated heat and pain. A clammy feeling covered her body.
Where’s Jacob? How could he leave me like this?
Jacob was nowhere in sight. She was surrounded on all sides by the creatures writhing in the swirling mist. Liza’s mind went into flight mode, and she sprinted for the only cover she could see—the train car. Reaching the back of the car, she grabbed the rusted rail and pulled herself onto the deck. The door was already open, and only blackness lay within. Without another thought, she plunged inside and grabbed the door to close it behind her. Vines and other growth had grown over the door and through the opening. She pushed it closed as far as it would go and pressed her back against it. She could still hear the laughing of the things outside.
Then another sound, from within the train car.
Liza jumped as something hit the door behind her. Again, she heard movement in the darkness. Again, something hit the door, this time hard enough to cause her to stumble forward. She put her hands out and came in contact with something warm and alive. She tried to scream, but nothing would come out. A light flared, and she stared into the face of the man who’d told her she needed to die—Conall Finn.
“Liza!”
Liza jumped back and slammed into the door. She had nowhere to run. Creatures from some hideous nightmare stalked the night outside, while inside she was trapped with a madman.
Conall moved toward her, and she lashed out in panic. “Stay away from me!” she shrieked.
He batted her hands away before finally catching them and spinning her around so that her own arms wrapped around her and her back was against him. She struggled but had little strength left. The terror had taken too much from her.
“Please, please let me go.”
“Liza,” said the voice from behind her. “Calm down. It’s me, Marcas.”
I can’t believe you took her out there in the middle of the night!” Marcas paced the living room floor, much as his mother had the previous day. “What were you thinking?”
Jacob sat on the edge of the couch, leaning forward with his head in his hands. That he was afraid of Marcas was obvious. Finally, he looked up, his eyes tired and bloodshot. “I’m sorry. Neither of us could sleep. I thought a drive might help. We just ended up there.” He stood. “How was I supposed to know she’d react that way? Mortals don’t ever do that. I don’t even know what she saw.”
Liza didn’t like Marcas’s tone. Jacob had done nothing but try to make her feel comfortable since she first arrived. Marcas had abandoned her without even saying goodbye.
“Jacob didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, looking from Marcas to Ana to Cullen.
“Stay out of this, Liza. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
Liza felt her anger rising. “You’re right, I don’t, no thanks to you. What were you doing hiding in that train car, anyway?”
“I wasn’t hiding. That place Jacob took you is one of the thin spots between our world and Tír na nÓg. Conall and I don’t always know where we’re going to come out when we leave the Mist. That train car is one of the more frequent places.” He gave Jacob a hard look. “All of which Jacob is very aware of. He should not have taken you there. You shouldn’t even be here.”
Liza pulled the blanket tighter around her body and stood. “Your sister called me here. Your family has made it clear that I am somehow involved in everything going on. I’ve been driven almost crazy by things I don’t understand. Where have you been all this time? Now you have the nerve to tell me to stay out of it? Screw you!”
“Liza, calm down, please,” Ana said. “Yelling isn’t going to help anything.”
Makes me feel better, Liza thought. She kept her mouth shut and plopped back down into the chair. Finding Marcas in the train car had left her so drained that she had fallen into his arms sobbing like a baby. When she stepped outside, only Jacob was there. It had been him pounding on the door. He hadn’t seen or experienced any of what she had.
“She’s right, though,” Ana continued. “We dragged her into this. Well, Brianna did, but we all accepted it.”
“That was a mistake.” Marcas’s gaze bored through Liza.
Ana shrugged. “Brianna said it was necessary. You know we don’t question the Seer.”
“Well, maybe we should.” Marcas sighed, and some of the agitation seemed to fall from his shoulders. “Things have gotten so out of control. I don’t even know what’s going on anymore.”
“Is Conall killing the Old Ones?” Cullen asked. He looked up at his son. “Is he?”
Marcas shook his head. “I don’t know, Dad. I’ve lost all connection with him. Have you ever heard of the Twins losing their connection? Ever?”
Cullen looked up at his wife. “Only when one dies.”
“But we saw Conall yesterday,” Fallon said as she came into the room with a fresh cup of coffee. She handed the mug to Liza, who took it in still-shaking hands.
Marcas ran his fingers through his hair. “Why can’t I feel him? It’s like half of myself has been amputated and thrown away. Nothing feels right without Conall.”
“You said Conall spoke to you, Liza?” Jacob said.
“He said this is all my fault and I have to die,” Liza blurted.
They all looked at her.
“Well, maybe not all my fault, but that I’m making it worse by being here. And that I have to die. Did I mention that part?”
“Yes, dear, you did,” Cullen said.
Liza looked up at the man and was surprised to see him smiling at her. “I don’t know how you can be so calm through all of this.”
“Oh, I’m anything but calm,” Cullen said. “My family and all I’ve ever known is unraveling around me. Trust me, I am not calm. However, running around jumping to conclusions isn’t going to help at all. My wife and offspring tend to be rather high-strung. Brianna and I have to keep things on an even keel.”
Ana patted her husband’s hand. “And you do a wonderful job of it. Now, what are you going to do about finding my son?”
Cullen smiled up at her. “We do what we were created to do—we search Tír na nÓg for answers.”
“Tír na nÓg?” Liza said. “The place outside Brianna’s hous
e?”
“Sort of,” Cullen said. “We can’t go in physically, of course, but Ana and I have the ability to enter the land of the fae in spirit.”
“Only together,” Ana continued. “And only as one. To become separated would be to be lost forever.” She saw the confused look on Liza’s face. “Best if we show you. The rest of you wait here. Liza, come with us, please.”
Liza hesitated only a moment before rising from the chair and following the couple. They passed through the kitchen, where Ana asked Ruth Yoder to join them, before continuing down a hallway to a comfortable master bedroom. The room was simple, with a matching dressing table and chest of drawers, a small closet, and another door Liza assumed led to a bathroom. Liza did not know what she expected to happen. Cullen and Ana sat each on one side of the bed, removed their shoes, and lay down with shoulders touching. They smiled at one another and grasped hands, fingers interlocking in a single fist.
“Ruth, please bring us back in three hours, and explain to Liza what we’re doing,” Ana said. “Just give her the basics. I’m afraid we’ve already confused her enough.”
“Of course, Mrs. Finn. Three hours it is.”
Liza watched as the couple each closed their eyes and, to all appearances, went to sleep.
“Well, that was eventful,” Liza muttered. “I understand everything now.”
Ruth laughed. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but the Finns are not napping. They’re traveling the land of the fae. That is their task.”
“So, Ana said they travel in spirit. Do these fae see them? Hurt them?”
“They can’t see them, but they can sure enough feel them. The fae know when a Finn is around, and they hate it. The Finns are like light in a dark world. Brianna is the brightest of them. They are attracted to her house but not because they desire the light. They want to extinguish it. If Brianna were to take one step outside . . .” The woman shuddered at her unfinished thought.
Liza looked at Cullen and Ana. “They look so peaceful. It makes it hard to believe people’s lives depend on them right now.”
“Not just people, dear. The world depends on them right now. Things that have remained unchanged for hundreds of years are suddenly changing very quickly. Since before man can remember, the Finns have protected this world from Tír na nÓg. Oh, certainly the fae have caused mischief, some fairly serious, but nothing like the murder of Old Ones or the disappearance of a member of the family. They shouldn’t even be able to do such things.”
Liza felt a chill coil up her arms. What’s my place in all this? Why am I here? She wanted to ask the questions out loud but knew the housekeeper would not have those answers. No one seemed to.
“Things any clearer now?” Marcas asked as Liza and Ruth returned to the living room.
“Oh yeah, I’ve got it all figured out. Nothing weird going on here at all.”
Marcas chuckled. “You know, I really did love your sense of humor.” He sobered. “I’m sorry I took off like I did. Things here were happening so fast . . .”
Liza shrugged. “Neither of us had made any promises. Besides, it seems your sister liked me even if you didn’t.”
“Yeah, I like you,” Fallon said.
Liza smiled at the redhead. “I was referring to Brianna, but thank you.”
Fallon walked over and put her arm around Liza’s shoulders. “Stick with me, kid, and we’ll put this family back on the straight and narrow.”
Liza felt a warmth spread through her. For a moment, she felt something she had never felt before—like she belonged.
• • • • • • •
CONALL FINN JERKED awake. A nightmare floated in his fogged mind—something about the Old Ones. And blood, lots of blood. He could still smell it, whether from the nightmare or himself, he wasn’t sure. He peeled open sticky eyes and saw only darkness. That was good. Darkness was his friend.
He inhaled the dank scent of earth and tried to remember where he was. He thought he heard Marcas calling for him, but that had been the dream.
Hadn’t it?
He missed Marcas. Without his twin brother, he felt lost, abandoned. But Marcas had chosen the witch over him. He should have killed her when he’d had the chance. Why hadn’t he?
She’s innocent.
Conall knew the thought was his own, his real self, though he was losing awareness of what that meant. He missed Fallon, too. Fallon could always make him laugh. He liked to laugh, didn’t he?
He wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
The girl had to die, he was sure about that, even if he could no longer remember why. Just the thought of killing her sent a spike of pain through his head. He knew he was being punished for such thoughts. The Prince wanted her alive.
Conall groaned as he pulled himself to his feet. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could make out the slit between the doors. He pushed them open and inhaled the sweet scent of a summer night. Though his body was stiff and sore, he felt strong. He climbed out of the root cellar in which he’d been sleeping.
The Prince called. There was much for Conall to do to serve his new master. Conall tried to shake off that thought. No, more than a thought—a compulsion—but it was no use. He’d been trying for weeks, and he was as much a slave to the Prince as he had been the day he’d first encountered the fae being.
One slip, one careless decision, and everything Conall had once known had changed forever. He was no longer a Finn but some half-breed creation.
Outside, the world was pale in the light of the moon. He could smell the stench of his body, the filth of his clothing. The wildness of the Prince reveled in the odor of blood and sweat. After all, he was of the earth, of the wild. Mankind had become numb to the world around him, but the Prince and his kind held true to the old ways. Conall had felt that call for quite some time, the call to run free in the night, to be what he was created to be. Some callings should never be answered.
He had found that out.
Tonight, the Prince wanted blood. Gruesome images danced through Conall’s mind—real or imagined, he didn’t know. There was still a part of him that was a Finn, a sliver that was able to resist his Prince, though it cost him dearly. The more he resisted his new master’s orders, the more his physical body changed. The agony of his bones cracking and fusing was almost beyond anything his human mind could endure. He couldn’t stand much more. With the changes to his body came the insanity in his mind.
For now, he would obey. The Prince wanted blood—it was blood he would get.
Liza tried to blink away the sleepiness from her eyes. After staying up all night and discussing options until well after the sun had risen, the group had broken up to get a few hours of sleep. It had not been enough, and Liza’s sleep had been anything but restful. Awake and tired was better than sleeping with the nightmares.
She sat in the back seat of Marcas’s Jeep Cherokee as it bounced over the now-familiar dirt roads. The speed at which she seemed to have adapted to the rural landscape surprised her. While she yearned for something nearing normality, she found that she didn’t miss her life back in LA at all. It felt as though she’d left it much longer than four days ago.
In the front seat, Marcas and Fallon talked, their words drowned out by the sound of gravel bouncing across the bottom of the car. They were on their way to see Dadai Thomas, another of the mysterious Old Ones.
For all their explanations, Liza still wasn’t exactly sure what part the Old Ones played in all that was going on in Halden’s Mill. The Finns’ respect for them was obvious. So was their fear at the murders.
Liza thought of Brianna sitting alone in a house she could not leave while things fell apart outside. The Finns talked of so much change happening while Brianna sat in a never-changing world. And yet, the woman appeared to have some sort of contact with the outside.
Liza closed her eyes against the midday glare. It was all so confusing.
She was drifting in a semi-doze when she felt the car slow and turn
. She opened her eyes to an unfamiliar road almost completely covered by the treetops, with only brief bits of blue sky peeking through the canopy. It was beautiful and eerie at the same time.
Less than a mile after they turned off the road, a pristine setting opened before them. Unlike the house that Dadai Patrick had been killed in two nights ago, Dadai Thomas’s house looked like something out of a Thomas Kinkade painting. The tunnel of trees parted to reveal an emerald green lawn, mowed and trimmed to perfection. The house itself was small and fit the quaint landscape as if perfectly planned.
“I sense Conall,” Marcas said, excitement clear in his voice. “He’s here, or at least close by.” As though set in motion by his voice, a figure darted from the back of the house, across the lawn, and into the woods. “Conall!” Marcas yelled as he jumped from the car and raced after his brother.
“Marcas, wait…” Fallon called after him, but if he heard, he gave no indication. She opened her own door and climbed out. Liza did the same. The air outside was warm and humid compared to the air-conditioned interior. The constant hum of cicadas filled the air.
Marcas called to Conall once more, his voice fading in the forest.
“That’s twice now that we’ve run into Conall at an Old One’s house.” Fallon slammed the car door. “Let’s hope this time goes better than the last.” Liza followed the woman as she made her way up the stone path to the house. Instead of a porch, two steps made from railroad ties led up to the front door.
Fallon knocked. “Dadai? Are you in there? It’s Fallon.”
Liza stood behind Fallon and watched the woods for any sign of Marcas.
“Dadai? Hello?” Fallon knocked once more before opening the door.
“He’s old, right?” Liza said. “Maybe he didn’t hear you.”
“If he’s here, he’d have heard. The Old Ones don’t age like normal people.” Fallon moved farther into the house. Liza followed, eyes widening as she took in the interior. She wasn’t sure if it was an illusion or not, but the house felt much larger inside than it looked on the outside. She’d expected the interior to be as bright and cheerful as the yard had been.
