by Tom Mohan
Liza turned in a full circle. She knew she was dreaming, and yet it all felt so real. She willed herself to wake, but the dreamscape held her in its passionate embrace. Passion. She could feel it all around her. She took another look at the dress she wore and recognized it as a wedding gown. Her wedding.
Who was she marrying?
A light flickered further down the corridor. Liza moved toward it, her fogged breath leading the way. As she moved, the eyes moved with her, their gaze covering her body from head to toe. Again, she rubbed her arms, chilled by more than the air. The gaze was not threatening, nor was it friendly. Hungry was the best description she could devise.
Something shifted in the flickering light. Something alien yet familiar. She told herself to stop moving, but her feet continued their steady march up the cold walkway. Another object scurried toward her. Not the being in the light but something else, smaller. It ran straight at her and grabbed her left leg, wrapping itself around the scabbed-over cut. It also was familiar in a dreamy, ethereal sort of way. She tried to shake it off, but its tight, needle-like claws punctured her flesh.
The familiar fear seeped into her consciousness as she neared the being at the end of the corridor. Whether the fear came from it or the watching eyes, she was uncertain. That the watchers and the being were separate entities was without question. With each step, Liza felt the terror grow. Her breaths came in gasps, and she heard herself whimper. The thing on her leg caused her left foot to clomp with each step.
Liza heard her name called. No, not her name, but one that she knew belonged to her. Kiari. The pendant on her chest froze colder than the air that surrounded her. She wanted to pull it away from her skin, but her hands would not move from her bare arms. As the icy burn of the pendant grew, her fear faded, replaced by an anger that she could not explain. It came from deep within, somewhere hidden and secret.
Though she continued to walk, Liza grew no closer to the being in the light. She could still see it there, waiting. It moved in the flickering glow, undulating back and forth like a cobra before a charmer. The fear crept back in, pushing aside the anger and crushing any courage she might have felt.
The Prince is coming to claim his bride.
The thing on her leg laughed, the sound of a hyena in pursuit of prey. Through the laughter, she again heard the call of her name. She wanted to answer, but the swaying motion of the snake-thing held her gaze, trapped her will as she continued toward it.
Liza stumbled. Her feet began to drag as though dozens of the creatures on her leg were trying to hold them. Something grabbed her arms, and she screamed . . .
“Liza! Liza, wake up!”
Liza jerked as the voice penetrated the dream, pulling her up from the depths of her nightmare. She was freezing.
Around her, the sound of chirping crickets added to the surreal quality of the night. She was still surrounded by darkness, and a figure stood inches in front of her.
“Marcas?” Liza’s mouth was thick and dry. “What’s going on?”
Marcas continued to hold her arms, his face inches from hers. “You’re awake now?”
“I think so. Am I?”
He smiled. The first smile she had seen from him since she’d arrived in Halden’s Mill. “Yeah, you’re awake.”
Liza’s gaze shifted from his face to her surroundings. “Why am I outside?”
“Apparently you were sleepwalking.”
Her eyes drifted over the tall, dark shadows before her. She spun her head to look behind her and saw the light of what she assumed to be the Finn house far behind. She shuddered, not from the cold. The dream was already fading, but she remembered the snake-thing swaying in the flickering light. The snake-thing from Tír na nÓg.
“How did you find me?”
Marcas looked deeper into her eyes before releasing her arms. She folded them for warmth and realized she was no longer wearing the wedding gown but the comfortable flannel pants and t-shirt she normally wore to bed.
“I came to check on Mom and Dad. I hated to leave Fallon but…” His voice quieted at the mention of his sister. “I still can’t believe Conall would do something like that. Whatever is possessing him, he would never do that to Fallon.”
Liza wanted to point out that, whatever Marcas thought of his brother, Conall did, in fact, do that to Fallon. She bit back the remark and waited for him to continue.
“Anyway, as I was getting out of my car, I had a strong feeling I should go around back. It was almost the way I used to feel when Conall was nearby. I thought he might be lurking nearby. I followed the pull into the field and saw you heading toward the forest. If your feet hadn’t gotten tangled in the weeds, you might have made it.”
Liza looked down at her feet. She could hardly see them through the undergrowth in the dim light. She put one hand on Marcas’s shoulder to steady herself and raised her left foot. The flannel pant leg was shredded below the knee. The image of a creature clawing her leg filled her mind.
“That thing we saw outside Brianna’s house was waiting for me, calling me.”
“The thing that bowed to you?”
She nodded.
“Is this the first time you’ve dreamt of him?”
Liza thought about it. “I don’t think so.” She shivered and rubbed her bare arms.
“Let’s get you back to the house. It’s cold out here, especially this close to the forest.”
They began the trek back to the house, Liza limping slightly. Marcas put an arm around her waist to support her. His warmth felt good. He felt good. She allowed herself the brief thought that when all of this was over, there might be something for the two of them.
A crashing came from behind—something large moved through the foliage at the edge of the forest. She and Marcas turned in time to see a huge creature stumble out of the woods into the field. The cloud cover parted, and the light of the moon illuminated the figure.
“Conall,” Marcas said, his voice tight.
Liza felt a surge of panic. Conall was bigger than he’d been the previous day. His eyes glowed like a cat in the darkness. They shone with an intelligence that had not been there before. He lumbered toward them. She could smell the stench of him from some distance—a mixture of human filth and animal musk. He came to within thirty feet of them and stopped.
“Hello, brother. I’ve come for my bride.” His voice was low, distorted, almost like he was talking with his mouth full of water.
Marcas tightened his hold on Liza. “You aren’t Conall anymore. You’ll have to kill me to get to her.”
Conall’s laugh sounded like a gargle. “Well, then, tonight one of us dies.”
• • • • • • •
CONALL GAZED AT his brother, the man who had been like a part of himself for so long. Marcas had what belonged to him. The Princess, at last.
He felt the Prince’s excitement and lust at finally being so near his prize. He sensed something else in the spirit of the Prince as well, though he couldn’t get a clear grasp on it. His excitement was about more than the Princess. Something else was about to happen, something that would bring the Prince great satisfaction.
He shifted his gaze to the woman. His anger flared. His anger, not that of the Prince. She was the cause of all of this. None of this would have happened if not for her.
Conall could still feel the pain of jealousy that had flooded him when Marcas had abandoned him to follow the call that pulled him west. The hatred he’d felt for a woman he had never met when Marcas phoned and went on and on about how great she was.
This was not supposed to happen. They were the Twins. They only needed each other.
The Princess looked so scared, so helpless. The part of him that was still Conall almost felt sorry for her. None of this was her fault. She was only fulfilling her destiny. A growl rumbled deep in his chest. The part of him that was the Prince lusted after this woman, craved her beauty and power. The part of him that was Conall knew that the best thing that could happen would b
e for her to die.
Conall strode forward and grabbed Marcas by the throat. Effortlessly, he lifted his brother off the ground and held him so that they were face-to-face. He could see fear in his brother’s eyes, but also strength and compassion.
“How appropriate,” the Prince said through Conall. “One Twin killing the other. Did you really think mere humans could keep the fae imprisoned? Are you truly such fools? We have been biding our time, waiting for our Princess to arrive. Now, destiny shall be fulfilled and the name of Finn will vanish, little more than an afterthought.”
Conall felt his fingers tightening on his brother’s throat. He wanted to stop, to find a way to make everything right again. He concentrated on the hand that held his brother, willed the fingers to relax.
“Conall…” Marcas’s voice was a harsh whisper. It bore into Conall’s mind, igniting a spark in the subdued spirit that still hid within. The Prince cursed Conall and all he held dear. Conall didn’t know if anyone else could hear the ancient spirit, but the magnitude of its rage threatened to split Conall’s head.
Conall drew strength from his twin and threw his own will against that of the Prince. His fingers pried themselves open, and Marcas fell from his grasp.
Conall tossed his head back and roared his pain at the universe. Every atom of his tortured soul screamed in defiance of the fae Prince. He felt the Prince’s control fade and the spirit relinquish some part of himself. Hope flared as he gained more control over the mutated body in which he’d been banished.
For the first time in months, he became aware of himself as he had been, as one of the Twins. He was Conall Finn of the Clan Finn. As the memory of his destiny crashed upon him, a light brighter than the sun erupted. He turned toward it, holding his arm before his eyes to protect them from the intensity. He squinted into the light where a shining figure held his gaze in a rapturous embrace. He stumbled toward this being of unimaginable beauty and light. His hands reached out, wanting only to feel the unending love that he knew was being offered to him. He was aware of the Prince slipping out of him completely as he lurched toward the loving power of the light. Finally, after all that he had done in service to the Prince, he knew the truth, and the truth was beautiful.
Conall grunted and stumbled as a sharp pain tore through his chest. The sound of a gunshot followed a moment later. His eyes never left the beauty of the light as he fell to his knees before it. His mouth struggled for words as an icy numbness spread through his body and darkness seeped into his vision. His right hand reached out, the light shining through his fingers, cleansing them of the filth that covered them.
He heard the sound of the Prince’s laughter as the cold and darkness swept in to claim him. The Prince laughed in victory, but Conall smiled. He finally knew the truth. Two words filled his dying gasp as he fell at the feet of the light.
“My…King…”
• • • • • • •
“CONALL!” THE HOARSE cry sprang from Marcas’s raw throat. Liza watched, frozen in place as Marcas crawled toward the sprawled body of his brother that lay at her feet. Conall looked so peaceful, his face relaxed and glazed eyes staring up at the stars.
She’d thought he was going to kill her, but in that last instant she had seen something in his eyes, something of what she thought the real Conall must have looked like. His body had shrunk in on itself and did not seem so large in death. She was aware of Marcas’s cries over his brother, but she remained detached. She felt strange, sorrowful in a way she’d never known, as if a part of her had been cut out and thrown away.
She heard other voices and looked up to see Jacob and Chief Murphy jogging toward them. Murphy carried a rifle. They stopped ten feet from where Marcas lay sprawled over the body of his brother, his sobs loud in the quiet night.
The chief was out of uniform, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt. He looked like he would rather be anywhere but there at that moment. Jacob’s face was unreadable.
Jacob looked at Liza. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, not yet ready to say anything. She listened to Marcas’s sobs and the ambient noise of crickets that had resumed their nightly song. Conall was dead. Did this mean the murders were over? She didn’t think so. She could feel the evil still out there. Something had happened during Conall’s last moments, something she could not describe but knew was important.
Liza knelt beside Marcas and put her hand on his shaking back. When he did not push her away, she lay her head against him. “I’m so sorry, Marcas. So sorry.”
What must it feel like to lose a brother, an identical twin? She had no idea. She’d never been that close to anyone in her life. A single tear slid down her cheek. Was that the best she could do for his tragic loss?
In time, Marcas’s sobs subsided. He sat up and wiped the tears from her face. He looked at her, then at Jacob and Chief Murphy. “He wouldn’t have hurt her,” he said.
Liza was not so sure of that. She knew that, in the end, something had changed, but she wasn’t willing to bet her life that he would not have killed her anyway. Conall had made it clear that he wanted her dead. She now wondered if she would ever know why.
“He attacked you and was charging her,” Murphy said. “I couldn’t take that chance.”
“He wouldn’t have hurt her,” Marcas said with more conviction. His voice was raw from grief and the damage his throat had taken from Conall.
“He’s suspected in the murders of three other people, Marcas. Three Old Ones.”
The look on Marcas’s face said that he didn’t believe that. He remained kneeling beside his brother. Though his tears no longer fell, he looked to Liza to be in shock.
“What are you doing out here?” Liza asked the policeman.
“Got a call that Conall had been seen out this way. Ran into Jacob and Ruth at the house, and they said you were out here.” He looked around the grass-covered field and then at the trees of the forest. “What were you doing out here?”
Even though Fallon had assured her that the police chief was on their side, Liza still felt mistrust. “Sleepwalking.”
“That something you’ve been known to do?”
“No. As far as I know, this is the first time.”
His gaze slipped over the trees again. “First time. Convenient. And Conall just happened to be here waiting for you.”
“Are you accusing me of something, Chief Murphy?”
“No, ma’am. Just thinking aloud. It is curious, though. Princess, isn’t that what he called you?”
“You heard that?”
“Conall’s voice carries.”
Jacob stepped between the two of them. “Hey, Jim, Liza’s as much in the dark about all of this as we are.”
Murphy’s stern gaze did not leave Liza. “Is she? Seems to me like she keeps popping up where the action is. What did he mean, calling you princess?” He put his left hand in his pocket, his right still holding the rifle with which he’d killed Conall. Liza recognized a threat when she saw one.
“I…I don’t know.” Liza tried to put some context to all that had happened—Conall’s strange comments and threats, her own nightmares, and now sleepwalking. Not to mention what had happened at the bar in town. What is my part in all of this?
Murphy grunted. “I’ll be sending Conall’s body to University Hospital for autopsy. I want more answers than the good folks at Mercy will be able to provide.” He took his attention from Liza and squatted beside Marcas. Liza could hear him speaking quietly to the distraught man but couldn’t make out any words.
She jumped as Jacob came from behind and wrapped a comforting arm around her. “Sorry. I’m a little tense.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jacob said. “I’m glad we got here in time.”
“Do you really think he would have hurt me?”
Jacob pulled her tighter against him. “I don’t know. You saw what he did to Fallon and Marcas. If he hurt his own family like that? Yeah, I think he would have killed you.”
&nb
sp; Liza shuddered. She’d had the same thought, yet at the end, just before he was shot, something in Conall’s eyes had changed, some truth unfurled. If only she could see it herself…
Kiari.
Liza jerked at the sound of her name. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
She listened to the sound of the breeze through the trees in front of them. Could that have been what she’d heard?
Kiari…our queen.
Liza’s eyes darted back and forth across the expanse of trees. She knew that whatever it was, it was coming from in there. The eyes that had been watching her in her dream were there, too.
“There’s something in there, in the trees,” she said, her voice low so that only Jacob would hear. “It knows I’m here.”
“I don’t hear anything.”
Liza shrugged out from under his arm and walked a few steps toward the tree line. She could feel the eyes upon her. She felt exposed, vulnerable to something beyond her understanding. The pendant burned cold against her chest, but she left it alone, allowing the icy pain to keep her focused. The scene around her felt too much like one of her dreams.
She took a few more steps. The forest loomed as a shadowy curtain before her. She was aware of Marcas and Chief Murphy watching her, but she ignored them. Something in the darkness of the trees called to her. Not only the whispered voice on the wind but the forest itself. It sang to her. She walked closer, the hard-packed dirt and prairie grass feeling almost natural beneath her bare feet.
Marcas called out, but his voice was lost in the melody of the trees. She could feel the immenseness of the forest. Not the forest that mortals such as herself saw. She realized that, at that moment, she had an intimate awareness of Tír na nÓg itself. The world of the fae was another of those many contrasts she had experienced since coming to this strange place. She felt both love and hatred, welcome and threat. She knew she should be frightened but was not. Though she still could not grasp the otherworld connection between the Mist, the desolate landscape outside of Brianna’s window, and Tír na nÓg, she knew that they were all a part of one entity.
