Please let there be something about the Four Treasures there. Please let there—
I was so engrossed in my own pleas, I didn’t hear Ben jog up behind me.
“Hey Spencer,” he said as he fell into step next to me. He had on a blue-and-white-striped, long-sleeved rugby shirt. His hair was pulled half-up at the top.
“Ben! You scared the hell out of me!”
He smiled. “Afraid of another soccer ball coming your way?”
I laughed. “Not exactly.” I looked down at the sidewalk moving below my feet for a moment before looking back at him. “Nice hair,” I said.
“Oh.” He stopped walking and his hand flew up to the back of his head. He pulled the rubber band out of his hair. “Angela Johnson did it to me.”
I nodded and tried to suppress a strange tingling of jealousy as I pictured Angela’s perfect French manicure raking through Ben’s hair.
“Here,” he said, handing me the elastic. “It’s yours anyway, I think. From gym class.” His fingers brushed against my palm and lingered for a moment. “Are you headed home?”
“Not exactly. I’m going to Blue Oracle for more … more research,” I said quickly.
“Care if I walk with you? I’m headed to work that way.”
“Sure,” I said and shrugged. We fell silently into step, listening to the crunch of the leaves underneath our feet.
“Everything okay?” he asked me quietly as we crossed the street.
“Mmmm-hmmm,” I murmured as my head buzzed with thick confusion. “Where do you work?” I said, to change the subject.
“Mike’s Sub Shop. I make the worst Italian sub you’ll ever eat.”
I glanced over at him and smiled shyly, not comfortable holding his gaze. My palm still tingled from the touch of his finger.
After a few more silent moments, I cleared my throat. “Hey Ben, what do you know about the football stadium construction?” I asked casually.
“Not much. Just that people are so excited they’re practically pissing themselves.” I watched as his features grew hard and his jaw tightened and flexed. He hooked his thumbs through the backpack straps on his shoulders and shrugged.
“Yeah, but do you know if they’re planning to cut down all of the woods around it?” I said quietly, staring at the oak trees ahead.
“Ask your boyfriend. His dad is the one who’s heading it up,” Ben said, his voice rigid.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
Sure. I’ll get right on that.
We turned down the street and I heard wind chimes tinkling outside Blue Oracle. “I’ll walk you to the door,” Ben said. He pushed his hair back from his forehead and I realized he was nervous.
I opened my mouth to protest but quickly closed it. I stole a glance at his deep green eyes, which were narrowed cautiously at me, and nodded. “Sure. You’re not going to be late for work or anything, right?” I asked. “I mean, I don’t want to deprive your customers of the worst Italian sub in the world.” I laughed.
“I’m not sure if ‘deprive’ is the right word,” Ben said, thrusting his hands in his pockets.
“How long have you been working there?” I asked as we turned a corner.
His face grew softer for a moment, his features less like stone as he lifted his hands out of his pockets. “Awhile. It’s not much money, but”—he shrugged—“every little bit helps.”
I murmured in agreement. A cool breeze tripped across the lawn and I pulled my arms closer to my body.
“It’s just me and my mom,” Ben continued, staring at the sidewalk. “My brother, too. He has some disabilities, and a bunch of therapies to pay for, so I try to help out as much as I can.” His voice was soft, almost inaudible, before he exhaled loudly and looked at me. “Don’t look so serious. It’s just about … ” His green eyes twinkled and he carefully extended one finger toward the back of my hand. He traced a money symbol against the bones of my hand and smiled. His fingers moved so lightly against my skin that my entire body shivered before I could stop it.
He threw his head back and laughed, looking quite pleased with himself. “I do have that effect on people.”
“Whatever,” I grumbled, pulling my arms around myself, my face growing pink as it always seemed to do in his presence. I pushed open the door to Blue Oracle and Ben followed me inside. The shop was small, with one wall devoted to intention candles, another two walls to jewelry and incense. The very back wall was a bookcase. I quickly scanned the contents of the bookcase and pulled out Myths of Ancient Ireland while Ben wandered over to the jewelry.
There was a section on the Four Treasures. I flipped to it.
Folklore states that after the Four Treasures defeated the Fomoriians, they were destroyed and the pieces scattered around the globe, hidden for protection. Nearly all ancient texts agree that the Fomoriians will stop at nothing to gain power—they are waiting for a chance to return and gain control of both realms, mystical and human. The Fomoriians’ demon magic will manifest itself in possessions and ritual killings as they grow strong enough to first take over the mystical realm, then the human realm.
I felt a bead of sweat drip down my cleavage. It’s them. The Fomoriian demons. My knees weakened. I can’t do this. It’s too big. I placed the book back onto the shelf and turned to Ben.
“Didn’t you have a necklace like this?” Ben pointed to a black onyx stone with carvings.
I nodded. “I used to,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I thought of it, tucked carefully away in
my nightstand.
He turned the necklace over and read the description on the attached tag. “It says here that black onyx is used to block out spiritual power.” He looked at me and smiled. “Why would you want to do that?”
There was a pause, and I wanted to tell him—I think I almost did. I wanted to tell someone, anyone, what I was going through. That it felt like my life was being butchered into all these different compartments.
We remained still, inches from one another. I could see my reflection in his eyes. The air around us seemed to stop, despite the cold store. It reminded me of the magnetic pictures I’d seen in science class a few years ago; the force fields between two magnets, invisible to everything around them.
He said, “Leah, I have to tell you something.”
My face twitched and my mouth turned down slightly. “We should go,” I said quickly.
Ben looked bewildered and nodded a little, following me outside. He squinted in the sun before muttering
to the ground, “I just wanted to tell you that you’re
pretty cool.”
“What?” I leaned toward him.
“Nothing.” Ben shook his head. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and exhaled. “You’re pretty cool,” he said again. He slowly lifted his eyes and met mine. His jade green eyes were soft, searching for my reaction.
“Oh,” was all I said. “Thanks,” I added, before I thought better of it.
Then, the reality and the meaning of what he said
hit me.
“Oh! You like me!” I said loudly.
Ben suddenly looked really uncomfortable. His features shifted and he cleared his throat. “Yeah, listen. I just wanted—I mean—you’re a cool person and—” He shook his head as he fumbled with his words before going silent.
“Listen, Ben—”
“Leah, I—” he said at the same time. “I meant that I like you like a friend, okay?” he added quickly.
“Oh, right! That’s what I meant!” I nodded, my face flushing again.
“I should go,” he finished awkwardly. “I need to get
to work.”
“Okay,” I said quietly as he turned and walked down the street. I watched as he walked past a Créatúir tending to a weeping willow tree, picking off dea
d leaves and opening leaf buds.
They could all disappear if I don’t stop this.
Maybe Slade will find something out on his own. Maybe I won’t have to return myself.
Yet as I walked down the street, my resolve to stay firmly in the human world nearly gone, I remembered this: I could lose much more than a year if I returned. The more time a human spends in the Other Realm, the more likely they are to be trapped there. If I returned, there was a possibility I could never come back. My parents, sisters, and friends would never know what happened to me. I could vanish … forever, like a living person trapped beneath a frozen pond for all eternity.
I can’t.
Twenty-One
Rap rap rap rap.
“Five more minutes,” I mumbled into my pillow, turning over. I started to slip back into my dream about being stranded on a desert island, away from all things, both human and ethereal.
Rap rap rap rap.
“Still dark out,” I said, louder. “Not time yet.” Why is my mom harassing me before dawn on a Saturday? I rolled over again and threw my comforter over my head.
“Leah,” a low, muffled voice said.
I froze. When did my mom turn into a guy? I remained still, prickly hot sweat beads beginning to form on my upper lip.
“Leah,” the voice said again.
I slowly peeled the comforter off my shaking body. I sat up in bed and squinted at the clock: 2:37 a.m.
“Over here,” the voice said from behind me.
I craned my neck around and saw a dark figure slowly climbing through my window.
“AHHH—” I started to screech, but the dark figure rushed at me and clapped his cold hand over my mouth.
“Shaman, it’s just me. Slade.” His cold breath blew into my ear canal and I shivered. Still clasping his hand against my mouth, he drew me closer to him. “Don’t scream.” His breath chilled my body through the thin fabric of my pajamas.
With his freezing hand still against my face, I nodded. He released me, his dark figure looming above me, his features hidden in the darkness save for his glowing eyes. His black leather pants and tight black T-shirt hugged his lithe frame.
I yanked my comforter off my bed and threw it around my body like a puffy strapless dress. “What are you doing?”
“Come with me,” Slade commanded. He held out an icy hand.
“Where?” I gripped the comforter more tightly around myself.
“You must see. Come,” he said again. He took a step closer to me and I leaned back. His icy presence chilled the room and I shivered. “It’s the only way,” he whispered. “You have to come with me. It will help you put to rest what happened to Fiona.” He took another step toward me, his legs nearly touching mine as he stood above me. I craned my neck upward and met his softly glowing eyes.
I held his gaze for a moment. As much as I didn’t trust him, it wasn’t like I had a whole lot of other options.
“Fine. Just let me get dressed,” I said. But Slade didn’t move so I could stand up. “Can you let me get dressed?” I asked.
He stepped backward a few feet and I stood up. I bent down and pulled a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt off the floor. I held them up and looked over at him. “You’re seriously not going to watch me change, are you? Get out.”
“Meet me outside.” He moved back toward the window. He climbed through it in one smooth motion.
“What the hell am I doing? I must be crazy,” I muttered to myself as I changed out of my pajamas. Grabbing my coat off my dresser, I sighed as I looked out into the dark night. I could see the headlights of Slade’s motorcycle parked down the street. I gave my comfy, warm, marshmallow bed one longing look before I pulled myself through the window and into the crisp night.
“Okay, so what do you need to tell me?” I said to Slade. He was sitting on his motorcycle, holding out a helmet. He just waved the helmet at me. “Great,” I muttered as I took it from him. I slid it on and climbed on the bike behind him. I wrapped my arms around his cold waist and I felt the motorcycle lurch forward into the autumn night. I screwed my eyes shut.
Fifteen minutes later, the bike slowed down and I opened my eyes and looked around. We were at a dark, tiny building illuminated only by a fading green sign.
“The Kerry Piper,” I read out loud. Slade pulled into the parking lot. I looked around, searching for a familiar sight. But I didn’t see anything near the building except miles of open land—dark cornfields and power lines. “Where the hell are we?” I asked. We peeled ourselves off the bike.
“You’ll see,” he said. He started to walk toward the entrance of the Kerry Piper. I stood still until I stole a glance at the surrounding cornfields. An overwhelming sense of creepiness filled me and I jogged to catch up with Slade. I reached him just as he pushed the heavy wooden door open and walked in.
Immediately, rhythmic, pounding music spilled
out into the parking lot. I winced a little as I followed Slade inside.
The club was nearly pitch-black, with bodies dancing, twisting, and flailing about in front of a stage. I felt Slade’s hand grip mine and lead me through the crowd. I kept my head down so as to avoid an errant elbow in the eye or a slap across the face.
“Sit down,” Slade commanded, pulling me toward a dimly lit bar. I obediently sat on one of the empty bar stools while Slade stood next to me and leaned against the top.
A bartender with more lines on his face than years under his belt looked at us, unimpressed by the high schooler wearing zero makeup and the tall, dark, skinny guy with glowing eyes. “Yeah?” he said. He glanced up at the stage and shook his head.
“Uh, I’m okay,” I said to him. The bartender looked pointedly at Slade, who shook his head.
I turned around and focused my eyes on the stage at the other end of the club. The all-male band members were dressed in black, with dark spiky hair and pale white faces. The lead singer slunk around the stage, singing unintelligible lyrics while the crowd moved rhythmically, reaching out to one another, stroking each other’s faces.
I turned back to the bar, pretending not to notice the couple licking each other’s faces to my left.
“So?” I looked at Slade.
He turned around and leaned against the bar, his elbows resting on the dark, scarred wood. His eyes focused on the crowd while I wondered what the hell I was doing at some punk club in the middle of the night.
“Wh—” I started to say when Slade grabbed a mohawked guy walking past us. His arm darted out like a frog’s tongue capturing its insect prey, or, in this case, a guy with taller hair than a Miss America contestant.
“Hey!” Mohawked Guy said.
“Tell her,” Slade hissed at him. He lightly pushed the guy in my direction. Mohawked Guy looked me up and down, unimpressed. But as he turned back to Slade, he did a double take, his eyes widening.
“Is she—really—seriously?” he said to Slade, who nodded. “Whoa,” he whispered.
“What?” I said as I pulled my arms around my body, a chill moving across my arms.
Mohawked Guy leaned in and whispered something in Slade’s ear. Slade nodded and they both turned toward me.
I kind of felt like an innocent little mouse, right before a falcon swoops down and eats it.
“Shaman,” Mohawked Guy said to me. His thin lips curled into a smirk as he briefly shifted into the image of a wolf, then back to his human form.
My stomach dropped and I shivered again. White hot fear began to build in my stomach and chest, and my throat began to close.
Another Dark Créatúir in the human realm? Another shapeshifter?
He took a step toward me. “Going to help us?” he said, lifting a long hand. I winced as he picked up a strand of my hair and released it. He watched as it fluttered back down to my shoulders.
Asher fixed his eyes on me, and they began to glow a dark purple. “She will fix everything,” he said.
“Tell her,” Slade commanded. His arm was still across Asher’s torso, a barrier between me and him.
Asher licked his lips with a forked tongue. “The nothingness is destroying our world. Soon it will be gone.”
I nodded. “I’ve heard.” Fomoriians. The nothingness of the demons.
Asher turned to Slade and shared a silent exchange. He turned toward me. “So, will you not come to our realm and see for yourself?”
I leaned as far back as I could and gripped my freezing cold hands together. “No—I—I just don’t—I—”
Asher leaned in. “I’ve heard you’re going to look for the Four Treasures.” He exhaled a cloud of icy vapor in my face.
“I don’t know what—” I began, when I heard the band’s lead singer start to sing a new song. He growled into the microphone, the lyrics unrecognizable until I narrowed my eyes and turned my head toward the stage. And suddenly, my brain clicked and I translated what he was singing about.
Créatúir-speak. He’s singing in Créatúir-speak.
I turned toward Slade, feeling dizzy. “Where are we?” I asked.
“They’re leaving Inis Mor, Shaman,” was Slade’s reply. “They’re coming here. Panic is taking over the Other Realm. The rest will leave Inis Mor on Samhain if you do not defeat the nothingness. They’ll come here. Live here.”
“But they can’t! But then the natural world will—but—they can’t leave the mystical realm.”
“There is nowhere else to go. They will sooner destroy your world than be destroyed themselves.” Slade fixed his gaze on me.
“How am I supposed to make it all stop?” I said
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