by Tom Mohan
“Come, my Princess. Our people await. It is time for us to take our rightful places as king and queen. Together, we will return the True Folk to their rightful place in the world.” Oberon’s eyes flickered with an internal light. “Then we shall partake in the pleasures of the universe. Nothing will be denied us.”
Liza could hear the hunger in his words. She felt it as well. Some part of her screamed that her feelings were wrong, but she pushed the thought away. As her Prince said, nothing would be denied her.
“Yes, mighty Oberon. I live but to serve you.”
Marcas Finn pulled his truck into the U-shaped driveway in front of his family’s house. It had taken him longer to get there than he’d expected. The fog had lifted almost as soon as he’d left town, but the country roads leading to the farm were crawling with people seeking Tír na nÓg.
There were so many of them. They walked the roads and fields like zombies in a horror movie. A few had tried to jump onto his truck as he passed, clinging to his door and tailgate in their desperation to reach that which they sought, but most only gave him a casual glance as they shambled toward their goal. Marcas wondered how many of them actually knew what it was they sought. Not many, he was sure. There would be a few though, those who dreamt of the fae, those who had been actively seeking it for some time.
Those were the most dangerous.
Marcas climbed out of the truck and glanced at his watch. 6:37 am. It should have been completely light that time of morning, but only a thin sheen of gray penetrated the thick cloud cover. He heard Huck’s barking from inside the house. Aside from the dog, the house felt empty.
Marcas squeezed his eyes shut to cut off the tears that threatened. A pang of loneliness stabbed through him. His family was gone. As far as he knew, only he and Fallon remained, and it was doubtful either of them would survive the morning. He didn’t even know what he was supposed to do. Without Conall, he was just another human.
A burst of lightning strobed through his eyelids, followed by the crash of thunder. He opened his eyes and walked around the house to the back. The wind was stronger there as it blew in from the west. The trees on the edge of the forest swayed, the sound of their rustling leaves carried on the wind.
A few people moved through the field between the house and forest. Two of them walked slowly, as though unsure of what to expect, but one man was running toward the trees. Marcas’s mouth was dry. He jumped as another burst of lighting cracked the sky. He knew he should get going, but his body refused to move.
I’m going to my death.
The thought scared him more than he’d ever thought it would.
“I’m a Finn,” Marcas said to the wind. “If I’m to die, I’ll die fighting.” He walked across the yard and into the field. He could see movement within the trees ahead, whether people or something else, he was unsure. His goal lay deeper in the forest. The Mist had extended itself well beyond its normal bounds, but Tír na nÓg itself was still where it had always been. That was where he guessed he needed to be.
If he made it that far.
He pushed the negative thoughts aside and focused on the scene before him. More people were crossing the field from his right. A few glanced his way, but to them he was just another seeker of the power that drew them to this place.
His thoughts kept turning to his brother. How could he go on without Conall? How could life have been so unfair?
He looked closer at the people that surrounded him. Were they any different? Didn’t each of them have some pain in their life that drove them in search of something better? Who was he to deny them a chance to find happiness? Darkness closed over his mind as he approached the edge of the forest. The power of Tír na nÓg called him as it never had before. All he wanted was his brother back. He wanted life to be simple again.
Drawn by the promise of dreams made reality, Marcas joined with those around him and slipped into the trees.
• • • • • • •
THE FOG WAS beginning to thin. Fallon could see across Brianna’s yard to the road and the house beyond. The gray morning sky remained hidden, and lightning still burst across the blanket of clouds above. The storm that faced Halden’s Mill would be of a much more human nature.
The town was still quiet, though the explosion moments ago told her that it was waking. She dreaded what she might find as the morning wore on. She checked her watch. Almost seven o’clock. The Mill was a farm town, and folks normally rose early. Thankfully, they appeared to be sleeping in that morning.
The unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang out of the fog.
“Crappiolla,” Fallon muttered.
She wasn’t sure exactly which direction it had come from but decided it didn’t really matter. She would find trouble enough whichever direction she went. Still, with no clue as to what she was supposed to do, she headed in the direction of the town square. She had gone no more than a couple blocks when another shot rang out, this time from the house across the street. She stopped and listened. A moment later, she heard shouted curses and another gunshot.
A shudder racked her body. She moved behind a large oak tree and leaned against the rough bark.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whispered. “God, I know I don’t talk to you often, but I need help. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
The door of the house across the street banged open, and footsteps stomped out onto the porch.
“Anyone else want some of this?” a man shouted.
Fallon almost didn’t recognize the voice. It was familiar, but she’d never heard it raised in anger.
“Anytime now, God,” she muttered. If God was listening, he wasn’t saying anything. She took a deep breath and peeked around the tree. Travis Sewell paced back and forth across his porch wearing nothing but his boxers. He had a serious case of bedhead, and his eyes were wide and wild.
“I’m ain’t afraid anymore,” Travis yelled. “Hear that? I ain’t afraid of you sons a’ bitches anymore.”
Fallon took another deep breath and stepped out from behind the tree. “Hey, Travis, how’s it going?”
Travis spun toward her voice and let loose two shots that, fortunately, came nowhere near her. Fallon jumped back and raised her hands over her head. Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. “Hey, Travis—it’s me, Fallon. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I ain’t scared of you. I ain’t scared of nobody no more.” He turned the gun on her.
Fallon turned on her best smile. “Sorry, poor choice of words. Listen, Travis, I’ve had a really rough night. Any chance we can put the gun down and chill out a bit?” Her every instinct told her to get out of there, to turn and run back to Brianna’s. Even if Travis put the gun away, she had no desire to see what was in that house.
“Fallon? What’re you doing out there? You spying on me? Better not be spying on me. I ain’t afraid anymore.”
Fallon kept her hands raised and took a step closer. “I’m not spying on you, Travis, and I am afraid. I’ve been scared all night. I’m just trying to find someplace safe to hang out.” The words flowed from her lips without any conscious thought on her part. She stepped off the curb and into the narrow street.
Travis glared at her but didn’t shoot. He ran a hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t have come here, Fallon. I’m mad like I’ve never been mad before. This isn’t where you want to be.”
Boy, don’t I know it. “Travis, where’s Gloria?”
The wild look came back to his eyes, and he turned the gun directly at her. If he pulled the trigger, he wouldn’t miss this time. “Why you asking about Gloria?”
Fallon shrugged. “Just wondering.”
The screen door behind Travis opened, and a woman stepped out. She was dressed in a cotton nightgown that fell about six inches above her knees. Fallon thought the gown used to be light blue, but it was hard to tell with all the blood splattered over the front of it.
“Why Fallon Finn, how nice to see you,” th
e woman said. Her voice had a phlegmy gurgle to it and sounded nothing like the Gloria that Fallon knew. “How about you come on over here and join us? I’ll make some coffee.” She laughed at this, as though it were the punch line to a joke only she knew.
“I don’t think Fallon wants no coffee, hon,” Travis said. He waved the gun away from the house. “You should be getting along.”
Fallon’s eyes moved between the two before settling on Gloria once again. If that was her blood that covered her gown, there was no way she should be standing there. If it belonged to someone else…who? It was the woman’s eyes that bothered her most, though. The eyes had a gleam to them that did not belong in human eyes.
“Travis, that’s not Gloria.”
The woman smiled and ran a finger along Travis’s ear and down his neck. The man shuddered but said nothing.
“Of course it’s me. Who else would I be?”
Travis looked at his wife. His face went from angry to confused to scared. He opened his mouth as though to say something, but Gloria’s fingers tightened on his neck and gave a quick twist. Fallon heard the snap as Travis’s neck broke and he fell to the porch floor.
“Your time is over, Finn. This is our town now.”
Fallon could not hold back the terrified shriek that tore through her lips. She turned and ran, the woman’s laughter mocking her every step.
• • • • • • •
BELOW THE ANCIENT mill, the remaining Old Ones sat around the table in the center of the room. Only minutes before, they had made the decision to close and seal the door as the Mist began to fill the passageway. They knew that, with all of them inside, only a Finn could open the door to release them. There was little guarantee that any Finn would survive the morning. The room that they hoped to be their salvation might very well become their tomb.
Light scratching sounds could be heard from the other side of the door. The enemy knew they were in there. The Old Ones could only hope the door would hold.
Tobias looked around the table at his three remaining friends. Eoin and Liam sat across from him and Nidawi to his left. They looked as exhausted as he felt. They had known since the beginning that it could come to this, but none of them had thought it would. They had become complacent over the centuries, and it had now cost them dearly. He shifted his gaze to the three empty chairs. Three of his brothers had paid with their lives. Tobias wondered if the four of them who remained would be enough to help put an end to the chaos that had been unleashed.
“The town is waking,” Nidawi said. “I can feel it.”
Liam nodded. “So can I.”
“Fallon is out there alone,” Eoin said. He looked at Tobias. “It’s been so long, and we are so few. Do you think this can work?”
“If it doesn’t, we won’t be around to know.” Tobias looked each of his friends in the eye. “We have to secure the perimeter. ’Tis going to be difficult but not impossible. Nidawi and me will each take our own place and one other. You twins will take Patrick’s place. Get your mind to yer own place first, then let it flow out to the others. My thinking is that if we can do that we can connect the circle with each other.”
“You men have grown weak over the years,” Nidawi said. “I’ve kept my connection with the earth. Even now I can feel her pain.”
She reached across the table and took Liam’s hand in her left and Tobias’s in her right. The rest of them joined hands as well, completing the circle. Nidawi closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. Tobias did the same. He could feel her awareness flowing into his. Then Eoin and Liam joined with them. The connection was weak compared to what it had been when there had been seven of them, but it would have to do.
Something hit the door hard enough to shake the walls of the underground bunker. Dirt rained down from between the boards that made up the ceiling. The four Old Ones looked to the door and then at one another. They all knew that time was running out.
“Holy Lord, we ask for your strength, wisdom, and protection,” Tobias prayed. “We know we be sinners, but we have need of you and have faith that you are with us.” He looked each of his long-time friends in the eye. “Well now, what say we get started?”
Each nodded. Nidawi smiled. “It’s been good to know all of you. This may be the last thing we ever do, so don’t screw it up.”
Tobias felt a wave of dizziness as Nidawi’s strength pulled his soul from his body. It was replaced by a rush of freedom. Previously, they had released only a small part of themselves to their task while keeping most of their spirit within their physical bodies. If this plan were to work, they had to leave their bodies behind with only enough left of themselves to sustain life. It was a major risk.
He could only pray it would be enough.
The ancient fae palace was cold and shrouded in dust. Flaring torches hung along the walls, but the dark shadows still covered much of the main greeting hall. Occasional flashes of lightning filtered in through the dirty windows. Liza remembered the hall from her vision in flames as a place of light and joy.
Oberon must have sensed her unease. “No need to worry, my Princess. The palace has been empty for too long. We shall bring life to it once again. Together we shall raise our people to the greatness destined for them. Nothing can stop us now that we are together.” His voice echoed in the empty chamber. He stopped at the bottom of the steps leading up to the throne and turned toward Liza. “There is but one task left of you. A task that only the true Princess can perform.”
“Anything for you,” Liza said. She felt strange agreeing to obey this man unconditionally. It wasn’t right, she knew, but it felt natural, like she had been doing it her whole life. “Tell me what I must do.”
He put his hand on her waist and led her back the way they had come. Outside, the mound that she remembered climbing from the other side was gone, and the golden pillar now stood in the palace courtyard. Two large bonfires had been lit, one on each side of the pillar. The flickering light illuminated the surrounding area revealing hundreds of fae creatures that had come to witness whatever was about to happen.
Glowing eyes of yellow and green watched her with anticipation and excitement as her Prince led her toward the center of the courtyard. A commotion to her right drew her attention to where a group of fae were dragging someone through the crowd. The man appeared to be dead or unconscious. His legs were limp beneath his supported body, and his head hung so that his face was hidden.
“Behold, the False One,” Oberon said. His voice rang through the courtyard for all to hear. They dragged the prisoner to the pillar and lashed his limp body to it.
“Who is this?” Liza asked.
Oberon gave her a quizzical look. “Truly you do not know? Your blood should revolt at being so near to the one who claims what is mine.”
Liza did feel a stirring within her, a feeling that left her more confused than revolted.
“This is the false Prince, the usurper,” Oberon continued. “Dozens of ancient prophesies tell of him. They all speak of his deceit and treachery—and his death.” He turned to Liza and took her hands in his. “Many more speak of us, the true Prince and Princess who will rise to guide the fae folk to the glory denied them.”
Oberon released one of her hands and tilted her chin up toward him. “I have waited long for you to come, Kiari. Only you can bring about the promised future. I must admit, this vexed me greatly. I should not have been made to wait. But then, that was not your fault, was it?”
Liza thought she saw his face change from the beautiful creature to something else, something full of hate and loathing. She instinctively jerked back, but he held her tight. She pulled her eyes from his and looked upon the figure tied to the pillar. She could hear his labored breathing and a soft moan as he stirred. He had been stripped of his shirt, and his pale, soft torso was covered in welts and bruises. He groaned louder as his head lifted, and he looked her way. His face was swollen and purple yet still familiar.
“Paulie?”
Obe
ron chuckled. “You see the face of the false Prince. He is not what you think, Princess. He has deceived you and your human friends as he has deceived those who follow him. He promised peace and love. Look at him now.” He lifted his face to the sky. “Your savior has failed you!” His shout echoed through the ruins. His hard eyes turned to Paulie. “You have failed them. You never had a chance.”
Paulie ignored the fae Prince as though he were not even there. One of his eyes was swollen shut, but the other found Liza’s face. “Hello, Liza,” he said. His voice was soft, but she detected no fear in it.
“I don’t understand,” Liza said. “Paulie is no false Prince. He would never hurt anyone.”
“Really? You think you know your dimwitted friend so well? Who is he? Where is he from? You know nothing of his past, do you? Not even the great Finns know anything about him. They should have been suspicious of him from the start, but even they were lulled into a false sense of security.”
Liza could not argue with his logic. Brianna and Fallon had admitted how little they knew of Paulie. Who was he really? Why had he inserted himself in their lives? She stared at his battered face, his abused body. She wanted to believe what Oberon said. His promise of their lives together set her blood aflame with desire.
“Enough of this,” Oberon said. “Time grows short, and I have waited long. All that remains is for us to be united by the blood of the False One.”
He motioned to Darius, who had remained nearby the entire time. Darius slithered closer and presented the Prince with what was either a very large knife or a short sword. It was plain looking, with a leather-wrapped handle and a steel blade about eighteen inches long. Intricate runes marked the surface of the blade. Liza looked from the runes on the blade to those on the pillar and was sure they matched.
