The Stolen: An American Faerie Tale

by O'Connell, Bishop

  Caitlin’s stomach twisted as she fought the images in her head. “It wasn’t her. God, please, it couldn’t have been her, could it?”

  “Caitlin!”

  She blinked and looked at him.

  “Listen to me and listen well,” he said. “This game has gone on long enough. It’s time to get Fiona back, yeah? It’s time to get her away from that mac mallachta, time to stop playing his bloody games, and long past time to get her back home.” He looked at her with steel in his eyes. “You’re the only one what can do that. Stoke that fire in your heart. The anger is what you need to get you past this.”

  She blinked at him.

  “Get angry! He did this to you! To her! He means to keep her from you!”

  Caitlin dug for anger, for rage, for the blind fury from before, but it was gone. What she did find was a mother’s love for her child. Caitlin knew that Brendan could use anger, but she couldn’t. She had something else, and she knew it was the way to beat this game.

  When she looked up at Brendan, the tears had stopped.

  “That’s it,” Brendan said. “Hold on to it. Remember it. He took her from you. He tried to trick you, to keep you here and away from your little girl.” He set his jaw. “He made you watch her die, yeah?”

  She swallowed the memory down and focused on Fiona, not just her name, or an image, or a memory. She focused on the intangibles, the things that made Fiona who she was. Her laugh, the way she snuggled close to Caitlin on the couch when they watched a movie, the way she could melt Caitlin’s heart with just a smile. These were the things that defined Fiona, and, paradoxically, they were all completely indefinable. They were indefinable and untwistable.

  “Aye, there it is, then.” He pulled away and stood up. “Now, on your feet.”

  Caitlin stood, and Brendan was right with her, his eyes still locked on hers. At that moment, she wished that he could’ve known this kind of love, the love of a parent for a child, even if for only a moment.

  “Don’t let him win.” Brendan waited a moment. “You ready?”

  Caitlin felt herself smile. “I really am.”

  “Good. Now, open a door and let’s get your girl back.”

  Caitlin walked to another door, gripped the handle, and pulled it open.

  Beyond the door was a path similar to the one that had brought them here, but not as aged. At the end of the trail, she could see a huge circle of tall stones. It looked like nothing less than a restored Stonehenge.

  “Well done, love,” Brendan said from behind her. “It’s time to finish this, then.”

  Caitlin gripped her knife with white knuckles and stepped through the doorway.

  “I’m coming, baby,” she said to herself.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-­SIX

  Caitlin took a long, deep breath as she looked down the path. Brendan stepped up beside her, and the door closed behind them with a hollow sound. They walked down the path, side by side, each step slow and purposeful.

  “Remember what I told you,” Brendan said. “You mightn’t have much time or warning. You can’t think about what’s going on around you. You can’t let her stay here.” He took the knife from her hand and tucked it back into the sheath, then pulled her jacket down over it.

  “All of us are leaving, Brendan.”

  “Don’t be stupid, love.” He came around to look her in the eye. “I’m all for that, but if it comes to it, you need to get out.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then finally nodded.

  They continued along the path in silence until it led them up to the circle, where two upright stones carried a third massive stone atop them.

  They stepped into a pristine courtyard tiled in shining white marble. Lounging about the outer edge was every kind of nightmarish faerie imaginable, including winged pixies that flitted around, casting a cold glow about them. Their colors were all dark, ranging from purple to blue. Their wings, likewise, ranged from small bat wings to what looked like spiderwebs stretched over bones.

  Caitlin saw goblins and old women draped in gray cloaks, with tortured faces and burning red eyes. She saw those fae that looked like elves, but without the allure of Dante and his kind. These were as frightening as they were beautiful. Their hair was of dark blues and blacks, their skin, the pale blue of moonlight, stretched over gaunt faces. When they turned to Caitlin, she saw that instead of radiant eyes of blue or green, there were only dark, empty sockets. At the far side, Puck leaned against a large marble throne, smiling. Several oíche clustered near him, and none looked pleased.

  On the throne sat a dashing man in his late thirties, dressed in a deep blue robe. His hair and well-­trimmed beard were both of the same light-­consuming black. His left hand rested on a purple crystal, and on his lap sat Fiona.

  He smirked as they approached.

  “Mommy?” Fiona asked in a sleepy voice.

  Caitlin set her jaw and forced a smile. “I’m here, baby. Are you all right?”

  Fiona nodded woozily. “Uh-­huh.”

  “See, I told you, darling,” the man said to Fiona. “Your mommy is here.” His voice was deep and resonant. There was a faint accent to it, the kind Caitlin imagined British professors had.

  Fiona looked at the man, smiled, and nodded. “Yep, you said.”

  Grinding her teeth as she watched her daughter’s sleepy eyes drift back to her, Caitlin fought back the urge to yank Fiona away. Again, she put on a smile.

  “Now, Mommy and I need to talk,” the man said and turned cold eyes to Caitlin.

  “It’s going to be all right, sweetie,” Caitlin said, struggling to hold the smile on her face. “We’ll be going home soon.”

  “Home?” Fiona asked, the trace of a smile coming to her little face.

  “That’s right,” Caitlin said. “I promise.” While she was glad that Fiona wasn’t more scared, Caitlin had to wonder what Fergus had done to get her that way. Whatever it was, he’d pay for it, with interest.

  Fergus eyed her and Brendan from his throne, then smiled and chuckled. “Careful, breaking promises here carries all kinds of consequences.”

  Caitlin wanted to spit venom, but she could feel every eye in the courtyard on her, watching every move. She bit her tongue and clenched her fists tighter, digging her nails into her palms. With a deep breath, her jaw eased a little, and she leveled her gaze on Fergus.

  “You know why we’re here,” Brendan said. “Give us the girl, and we’ll be gone. That’ll be the end of it.”

  Fergus looked around the court. “These Fianna have no manners at all.”

  The court laughed.

  “You bring iron into my lands. You kill my lieutenants. You butcher my warriors.” Fergus motioned to Puck. “Assaulted my servant, sent only to offer you safe passage, and now you expect me to answer to demands? In my own court?”

  “I think Cernunnos would disagree with being called your warrior,” Brendan said. “As for your servant there,” he said, and nodded to Puck, “well, he’s the most annoying creature in twelve worlds. How you haven’t killed him yourself is a mystery to me.”

  Fergus laughed. “I will grant you that much, I suppose.”

  “As for your lieutenants,” Brendan said, “I came under the old treaty. I tried to pass peaceably, but one denied me that claim and insulted me on top of it. That left me no choice.” He smiled. “You above all should know better than to give a Fian reason to fight.”

  Fergus let out a rumbling laugh that shook the courtyard like thunder, and once more, the whole court joined him.

  “Indeed, Fian,” Fergus said, and the laughter stopped. “Even so, you know full well iron is forbidden here. My lieutenant was enforcing the laws of my lands. Just because you were once Fianna doesn’t give you leave to ignore my rule.” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Of course, I should know better than to expect a Fian to remember s
omething like that.” He turned to the court. “After all, we’re lucky when we can get you to remember to go outside to relieve yourselves.”

  He and the court laughed again.

  “We’re here to claim the child. She’s this woman’s daughter,” Brendan said over the laughter. Then he pointed at the assembled oíche. “Taken in violation of the Oaths, by them. I say again, give the child back, and we’ll be on our way.”

  The laughter stopped, and Fergus stared at Brendan. “First, to your accusation,” he said. “My loyal servants are not bound by the Oaths. You know that only the Rogue Court is.” He motioned to the oíche. “And they are Dusk Court.”

  “They was Rogue Court when I spoke to your lieut—­”

  “Second,” Fergus said, his tone louder and harsher. “I will not be releasing my daughter to anyone.”

  “What?” Caitlin said. She couldn’t have heard that right. “What’re you talking about? She’s my daughter.” She turned to Brendan, who was looking back at her with a furrowed brow.

  Fergus smiled. “Ah, what’s the matter, love? Don’t you even recognize me, then?” he said in a thick Irish brogue.

  Caitlin felt her stomach drop to the floor and her knees go weak as his voice rang in her head. The world seemed to stop, but somehow she was falling.

  “You’re as lovely as the dawn,” Fergus said. His appearance shifted, and in place of the robed Fergus sat a young man with blond hair and blue eyes, dressed in jeans and a white T-­shirt.

  Caitlin stared. She wanted to scream, but her voice wouldn’t come. She wanted to charge him, to drive her knife into his chest and take Fiona, but she couldn’t move. She could only shake with fury and frustration.

  “What is it, love?” Brendan asked. “What’s he on about?”

  Caitlin closed her eyes and thought back to the hall of doors. It all made sense now, and the true horror, the complete torment it was meant to be, finally set in. She seethed at how easily she’d been duped.

  “Go on, love,” Fergus said. “Tell him.”

  Caitlin swallowed back bile. “James,” she said. “God help me, he’s Fiona’s father.”

  “She’s saying I’m in the right, bucko,” Fergus said and winked at Brendan.

  “Why?” Caitlin asked, her voice shaking.

  Brendan took her hand in his and held it tight. “I’m right here with you,” he said.

  “Well, my dear, the blood of the Milesians—­or the Irish, if you prefer—­is strong,” Fergus said, the brogue now gone. “Even more so when mixed with our own. Yet, sadly, I couldn’t find any native Erin women who would have me. Nor could they be charmed. They knew me, even if they couldn’t name me.”

  “I’ve got a name for you,” Caitlin said.

  “That’s not very lady-­like, my dear.” Fergus laughed. “The answer came to me, quite literally. This child of the Diaspora, with Dawn Court blood in her, no less, she found me.”

  “Dawn Court?” Brendan asked. “Why would you—­” Color drained from his face. “Dar fia, you mean to replace Teagan.”

  Fergus smiled, and his blue eyes glinted.

  Caitlin looked at Brendan. “What’s that mean?”

  “Fiona is of both courts,” Brendan said. “He’ll use her to bring down Teagan and seize the Dawn Court for himself.”

  “As my queen, of course,” Fergus said. “In retrospect, Teagan was a poor choice. Fiona will make a much finer consort.”

  “But she’s your daughter!” Caitlin’s stomach twisted. “You sick bas—­”

  “You have such a mortal view of blood and lineage,” Fergus said. “Who better than my own child? I can raise her to be the queen I want. And her blood line is pure.” He looked at Caitlin, lifted an eyebrow, and smiled. “Well, mostly.”

  “You—­”

  “So, you see, my dear,” Fergus said, “I’ll not be letting my daughter and future queen go.”

  Brendan took a step forward. “Fergus, you—­”

  “I’ve had quite enough of you, Fian,” Fergus said. “This doesn’t involve you.” He waved his hand and a silver cord appeared from nowhere. It wrapped around Brendan’s arms, pinning them to his sides, then around his legs, bringing them together. “There now, that’s much better.”

  “Téigh i dtigh diabhai, you faerie bast—­”

  “Oops, almost forgot.” Fergus held his hand up like a puppet and closed his fingers. Brendan went silent as his mouth was forced shut.

  The whole court began laughing, and Caitlin looked at Brendan.

  Think, damn it. He’d gotten her this far; she knew it was time for her to step up. She had to do something.

  Fergus stood and set Fiona in the huge chair. “Mommy and Daddy need to talk for a moment, my dear,” he said to her. “Wait right here on Daddy’s throne. But don’t get too comfortable.”

  A chuckle bubbled around the court.

  “Okay, Daddy,” Fiona said with a smile, her voice still sleepy.

  The word struck Caitlin like a sledgehammer. “You are not her—­”

  Fergus picked up the purple crystal from beside his throne and began walking across the now silent courtyard. Caitlin noticed he held it in a tight grip and kept it close to his body.

  “Caitlin,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. “My sweet, sweet love.”

  He stepped close, and Caitlin fought back nausea.

  “There is another option.” He reached out with his free hand and caressed her face. “You needn’t lose our child.”

  His touch made her wince, but she resisted pulling away.

  “Stay here, with Fiona.”

  “What?”

  “Think of it. Fiona will be safe.” He put slight emphasis on safe. “She’ll never get sick, never grow old, and neither will you. She will be a queen, wanting for nothing. Think what a life that will be for her.”

  There was something in his voice, something that tried to draw her in. But everything she’d faced, everything she’d done to get here, made her immune.

  “If you worry over your wizard,” Fergus said, “don’t. He’s dead.”

  Caitlin’s head snapped up and her heart stopped for a moment. “What?”

  “Oh, yes.” Fergus nodded. “He died quite bravely, but died he did.”

  Caitlin saw the smug smiles on the faces of the oíche. One even licked his lips. Pain and regret coursed through her. She closed her eyes and saw Eddy’s smile. Tears escaped her eyes as she opened them, doing her best to ignore the hole in her heart.

  “All need not be lost,” Fergus said. “I’ll set the Fian free if you stay. No others need die.”

  Caitlin looked at Brendan as he struggled uselessly against his bonds.

  “There’s no choice,” Fergus whispered in her ear. “Refuse me, and I’ll kill the Fian. I’ll make it last centuries, and I’ll have Fiona anyway.”

  Caitlin drew in a breath and looked at her baby. Fiona was sitting quietly, and her eyes drooped, as if in a drug-­induced haze. Caitlin smiled, realizing that they’d had to enchant her. Fiona must have fought them.

  That’s my girl, she thought.

  Caitlin’s eyes wandered over the court. She looked at the creatures of the dusk who would be Fiona’s company if she stayed: her friends and servants. Fiona would surely become that monster from the hall, but she’d be safe. That was the taunt. Fiona would be safe, but she wouldn’t be Fiona. Caitlin had been so focused on safe that she hadn’t realized what that really meant. She’d worried about physical safety, not protecting who Fiona was.

  As Caitlin closed her eyes, more stray tears ran down her cheeks, and she forced herself to think of killing the monster in the hall of doors.

  Whatever it takes to save my child.

  She knew Fergus was lying about Brendan. Oh, he’d set Brendan free, but Brendan would never leave these lands a
live. Caitlin thought of what she might have to do if she couldn’t get Fiona out. It was unthinkable, but it would be the only way.

  A final tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away as she made her decision. Fergus was right. There was no choice to make, not when it came to Fiona. Caitlin’s hand drifted into her coat pocket, where she found Paddy Bear. Her heart began to pound. She swallowed, pulled out the bear, and, opening her eyes, turned to Brendan.

  “I’m sorry, Brendan,” she said. “I have to.”

  Fergus smiled wide and held his hand out to Caitlin. “Come, my dear.”

  Caitlin swallowed and stepped forward, taking Fergus’s hand.

  He drew her into his arms and whispered into her ear, “Oh, how I’ve longed for you.”

  Caitlin took her free hand and pulled the knife from the sheath hidden beneath her coat. She brought it around and drove it into Fergus’s back. She yanked it back out as Fergus pushed her away. Stumbling, Caitlin slashed the knife. Fergus grunted in pain as the blade cut across his right hand. It came open on reflex, and the purple crystal fell.

  Time seemed to slow, and Caitlin saw all the oíche’s eyes go wide and their mouths turn up into grins. Fergus tried to catch the crystal, but he missed and it struck the tiles, causing a piece to break off.

  “No!” Fergus roared. “You insufferable, mortal striapach!” He backhanded Caitlin, then picked up the crystal and broken shard.

  Caitlin landed on the hard stone a step away from Brendan. The silver cords holding him seemed to be fading in and out. Caitlin looked from the bindings to the crystal with satisfaction.

  Fergus turned murderous eyes to Caitlin, but he almost looked tired. “I’ll show you pain and torment you never dreamed were possible.”

  “No,” Caitlin said, wiping blood from her lip. “You made a promise. You swore to me. Don’t you remember?”

  Fergus narrowed his brow. “I made no promise.”

  Caitlin blinked her wet eyes, and the last of her tears escaped. “You promised me and you promised her. I need you to keep it, now.”