by Lily Velez
The cliff edge was only seconds away. I resisted the urge to close my eyes, even as the wind blurred my vision with tears. I cast one last look at the Dullahan through the rearview mirror. He was nearly upon us. In a few more strides, he’d be able to reach out and seize me again.
It was either fate or a cruel twist of irony, but Frank Sinatra’s “Come Fly with Me” started playing the moment the Jaguar’s tires flew off the edge of the cliff. In the seconds immediately afterward, I was weightless, gliding through the air, my stomach dropping to my knees. I saw the moonlight glimmering off the ocean, heard the waves crash against the base of the cliffs, smelled the salt of the Atlantic Ocean until it filled my lungs.
And then the car tilted forward and we were heading down, down, down…so incredibly fast that I could think of nothing but the approaching wall of water, my breath trapped in my lungs.
Jack’s fingers filled the spaces between mine, and I squeezed his hand until it hurt, and just as Sinatra began to croon about exotic drinks in Bombay, the familiar blasts of wayfaring wind engulfed us, taking us far away from the Dullahan and transporting us somewhere else between one heartbeat and the next.
We fell out of the air into a space I instantly recognized as being one of the bedrooms in Crowmarsh, and at the last second, Jack pulled me close against him, wrapped his arms around me, and twisted so that he was the one to land on his back with me on top of him.
For several long moments, I could say nothing. I only clung to him, not quite believing we had survived the ordeal, still trying to steady my breathing. It was only when the shock passed that I became all too aware of our present state, of the way the entire length of my body was flush against Jack’s, thigh to thigh, stomach to stomach. I could feel the buttons and folds of his coat, and through that, the warmth emanating from him.
Embarrassment singed my cheeks, but even then, I didn’t move.
“Are you all right?” Jack asked from underneath me, his arms still holding me close.
I swallowed thickly to clear the cobwebs that had suddenly collected in my throat.
Jack’s eyes slid past me, and he got that look again, the one he wore when he was tuning into something supernatural. When his eyes grew large, my heart stopped. Before I could react beyond that, Jack rolled so that I was now the one underneath, and he covered me completely, using his body as a shield.
In the next second, something crashed through the walls of the bedroom, soaring over us before smashing into a far-off desk. Glass shattered, and when I finally caught a good look, I saw Jack’s beloved car hanging halfway out of a floor-to-ceiling window, front tires still spinning mid-air.
“You wayfared your car?” I asked, taken aback he’d even had the presence of mind to think of it.
He winced slightly, as if out of shame. “It’s a rare classic.”
With one hand, he moved the car back with magic, safely out of proximity of the window ledge. Though he could only wayfare people one at a time, I’d learned there was no limit when it came to inanimate objects. So if he’d still been holding onto the steering wheel with his other hand during our stomach-curdling descent, the Jaguar’s presence in Crowmarsh couldn’t be all that shocking to me, its delay most likely only caused by the sheer size of it.
I dropped my head back against the floor and let go of a long breath. “I’ll say one thing. You and your brothers certainly know how to make a simple night infinitely more interesting.”
4
Scarlet
“So we have a problem.”
It was, unsurprisingly, an overcast morning, which was unfortunate, considering I could’ve used a healthy dose of radiant sunshine to wake me up. I hadn’t slept a wink last night after our run-in with the Dullahan. Even though I’d remained at Crowmarsh with the boys, it was hard to feel safe. Every time my eyes fell shut, images of headless men and raging horses filled my mind.
Presently, the five of us sat around a large dining room table, a buffet’s worth of Sunday brunch foods before us. Another thing I’d recently learned about magic: you could manipulate pots, pans, and ingredients to cook for you. It was one of Lucas’s favorite party tricks.
I had to admit, it was fast becoming a favorite of mine as well. I stirred my bowl of homemade oatmeal, breathing in the relaxing aroma of cinnamon and vanilla. I enjoyed another spoonful, relishing the sensation of a warm stomach despite the cold, dripping rain outside.
“That’s not at all an understatement,” Connor muttered, his typical cheery self. He was wearing those two-toned glasses of his as he reclined in his seat and paged through a book. It wasn’t a grimoire, though. It was Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky. When he found whatever it was he was looking for in the novel, he scribbled down a note on one of the many sheets of paper surrounding him on the table.
I wanted to ask how he could possibly think of homework after all we’d experienced last night, but then I remembered the Connellys had spent their entire lives in this world. Yesterday was probably no more than a typical blip on the radar for them. Granted, at this point, I probably should’ve been used to it as well. But our battle at Uisneach had only been a little over two weeks ago. Surely it was reasonable for me to still be catching my breath now and then.
I moved my hand back as a playing card walked past. Lucas had an entire deck of them marching like toy soldiers in a figure eight that took up the length of the entire table. When one got too close to Connor’s homework, the blond flicked it away, and the card dramatically somersaulted, performing dizzying spins in the air at Lucas’s direction.
Rory ducked when the card flew at him in a kamikaze attack. He said something in Irish, cutting an annoyed look at his brother, but Lucas simply laughed, which only irritated Rory further. To be fair, the youngest Connelly was in the middle of bottle-feeding the fox he’d extricated from the shrubbery surrounding Elizabeth’s cottage last night, the poor thing still refusing solid foods. It was also still jittery, so I guessed Rory was doing his best to minimize startling incidents in the fox’s new environment.
“Will you release him back into the wild once he’s strong enough?” I’d asked Rory earlier this morning while he’d warmed up the bottled milk.
His shoulders lifted in a slow, non-committal shrug. “It’s up to him.”
“How so?”
He didn’t answer for a few moments, and I assumed that would be the extent of our conversation. Of all the Connellys, Rory spoke the least, and tried as I did, I could never get very many words out of him. But finally, he did speak again.
“I don’t own him,” he said. “So it’s not my decision to make. People think the earth and everything in it belongs to them. They think they can lord it over nature because they’re somehow superior. So they waste and destroy and ruin. There’s no other species in the animal kingdom that acts like that.”
He stared at the pot of milk on the stove, his sapphire eyes distant.
“If people stopped for a second and bothered to make a connection with other living things, with non-human living things, they’d see that we’re not the only ones with a soul. And if they could see that, maybe they’d finally see other living things not as creatures to rule over but as equals. As friends.”
Back in the present moment, I reflected on Rory’s words. As a Binder, I imagined he could feel an animal’s emotions more than most whenever he connected to its life force. And not just animals but plant life too. I thought about how broken he’d looked when we’d happened upon the fire engulfing The Wise Ones, the blankness on his face opposite such devastation.
There wasn’t enough for me to hold on to, he’d said, referring to each tree’s life force. He’d wanted to save them but couldn’t. It must’ve torn his heart apart. To him, The Wise Ones hadn’t been mere trees. They’d been living things, living souls.
“The Dullahan shouldn’t have the power to walk in our world,” Jack said from the head of the table, interrupting my thoughts. “The Sightless here in Ireland recently c
elebrated Martinmas, of course, but that’s hardly a pagan holiday, much less a pagan feast day, so his presence makes no sense. Especially since legend says the reason he hasn’t been sighted in so long is because he’s one of The Vanquished.”
“Who are The Vanquished?” I asked.
“They were thirteen warriors who fought in gladiator-style battles in the forsaken lands of the Otherworld,” Jack answered. “As their name suggests, they were each eventually defeated and forced to dwell in dungeons under the arena as prisoners. They’re the most vicious of creatures, ones who’d relish destroying humanity if given the chance.”
“Lovely,” I said, setting my spoon down against the edge of my bowl with a gentle clink, my appetite evaporating.
Lucas grinned at me. “What, you didn’t think all the fun and games were over, did you?”
“Like you said, that’s only a legend,” Connor told Jack. He was still jotting down notes. His handwriting consisted of sharp and slanted letters, as if each word were a weapon to sling. “We don’t know for sure that the Dullahan is one of The Vanquished.”
Jack nodded. “I would’ve thought the same. Except for the fact that I saw one of the Thirteen Seals of Balor last night branded onto the back of his hand.”
Connor’s eyes snapped to Jack at that, and seeing the seriousness on his brother's face, he muttered a curse, finally putting down Crime and Punishment.
I recalled that glowing mark I’d seen on the horseman, the way it lit up in the darkness. “Okay, time out,” I said. “You guys are forgetting I’m only a newly minted witch here. What exactly are the Thirteen Seals of Balor? Better yet, what is Balor?”
“Who is Balor?” Connor corrected. “And to answer your question, he’s the tyrant king of demons. Also known as the Dark Lord.”
My thoughts pulled up short at that as dread hummed in my chest. Dark Lord? I recognized the name instantly. That’s what the demon Kai had called the ungodly being to whom Jack would owe his debt once the Old Moon came. Or rather, it was the being to whom Jack owed his debt now, considering he’d used up all the wishes with which his demon’s mark had come.
It wasn’t just any demon we were contending with on Jack’s behalf when it came to breaking his curse then. It was the king of them all. Finding a way to get Jack out of the bargain his father had made long ago suddenly sounded a thousand times more trying.
Connor, who seemed to guess my thoughts, only shrugged, as if to say, It is what it is.
“As for the Thirteen Seals,” Jack continued, oblivious to our wordless exchange, “they’re tied to The Vanquished, each corresponding to one of the thirteen prisoners. When someone in our world breaks a seal, it releases the respective prisoner and frees him or her to roam the earth and wreak havoc as they please. If all thirteen are freed…” He trailed off, but his meaning was clear. If all thirteen were freed, death and destruction on an incalculable scale would follow.
I was beginning to wish I’d skipped out on breakfast altogether. The contents of my stomach churned unpredictably. I took a few hard gulps of orange juice, the citrus sharp on my tongue.
“So how do we keep that from happening?” I asked. “How do we stop the other seals from being broken?”
“It’s almost certainly a result of what happened at Uisneach,” Jack said. “It can’t be a coincidence that the portal to the Otherworld was recently destroyed and that the first of many seals has now been broken. Something powerful must’ve escaped along with the damned. Unfortunately, because we don’t know who or what specifically is behind the act, we’re not able to take preventative measures just yet.”
My guilt was rapidly hemorrhaging until I felt like I could burst at any moment. I wanted to slide off the chair and melt through the floorboards below.
“Actually,” I said, my chest tightening. “I think I know exactly who’s behind it.”
Four heads swiveled in my direction, their eyes pinned on me.
Jack wore an expression of surprise. He knitted his brow. “Really? Who?”
I let go of a long, shame-ridden sigh. “My dad.”
5
Scarlet
My bedroom at my dad’s house wasn’t small by any means, but with three teenaged boys inside its walls, it certainly didn’t seem very spacious. Then again, I supposed stakeouts weren’t in any way about comfort. Especially when it was a demon you were trying to catch.
I hugged a butterfly-shaped pillow against myself from where I sat on my bed, in part to stay warm, though the chill didn’t entirely come from the cold outside. I was still thinking about the Dullahan. More specifically, I was thinking about what his arrival heralded, and how I was almost certain my dad had brought it about.
“Explain again exactly what you saw,” Jack said, his hands submerged into his coat pockets. “Don’t leave any detail out.”
I exhaled a long breath and recollected my thoughts. “A few nights ago, the day after I first saw the red in my dad’s eyes, a crash from downstairs woke me up. At first, I thought someone had broken into our house. But when I peeked down the stairs, I saw that it was only my dad, making his way back to his bedroom. I assumed he’d gotten up for a late night snack or a cup of tea and had just knocked something over in the dark.
“Except then I realized he was wearing boots and a coat, and he was soaking wet from the rain outside. I had no idea where he would’ve gone at that hour. It was well after midnight. Something about it spooked me, so I hurried back to my room before he could notice me. The following night, I stayed awake to keep watch, and sure enough, around half past eleven, my dad mysteriously left the house, hiked into the nearby woods, and didn’t return again for at least an hour.”
“And you didn’t tell us about your father sooner why?” Connor asked. Arms crossed, he sat on the window bench with a searing look. He was surrounded by butterfly-print pillows, all of them in pastel colors, and it made for an amusing contrast I might’ve laughed at on any other day. That is, if it wasn’t for the wrathful glare he aimed at me, as if he wished to incinerate me on the spot.
“I know I shouldn’t have kept it to myself,” I said. “I’m sorry. But my thoughts were reeling. I didn’t know what to make of it initially.”
Connor scoffed with a dramatic roll of his eyes.
“And obviously it never occurred to me that my dad was potentially setting free mythical creatures from a prison in the Otherworld.”
“Maybe it should’ve occurred to you,” Connor threw back. “In fact, the moment you saw red in your father’s eyes, you should’ve told us immediately.”
“Connor,” Jack said.
“Don’t ‘Connor’ me. Had she been honest from the start, we could’ve prevented this entire mess from happening in the first place.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Really, Jack?”
Heat bloomed across my chest. “No, you’re right,” I said, picking at a loose thread on my patchwork quilt. “I should’ve spoken up. But that was the first and only time I saw his eyes change. I wanted to be sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. After all, even though he still hasn’t entirely been himself since the hospital discharged him, it’s not like he’s said or done anything major that’s immediately raised red flags. I thought it was possible these midnight walks of his were just a way to clear his mind or deal with lingering nightmares.”
I could certainly relate. I still had my fair share of nightmares after everything I’d been through and witnessed.
“And besides,” I continued, “I figured that if something truly was wrong with my dad, it would be a non-issue once we performed the ritual at Elizabeth’s cottage and sent everything back to the Otherworld.” Thus saving me from having to set yet another problem on Jack’s plate.
“Which brings up another issue,” Connor said, completely breezing past my apology. “If this all began a few nights ago, that means it’s possible the Dullahan isn’t the only creature loose in Rosalyn Bay.”
Jack passed a hand
through his hair, blowing out a breath. “The others could be anywhere, waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack the unsuspecting.”
My stomach soured. Great job, Scarlet.
And then I remembered something. In the wake of Uisneach, my dad had uncharacteristically begun watching worldwide news stories nonstop, his eyes riveted to footage of mudslides and bombings and more. If setting the damned free was the cause of any of those tragedies, I would never forgive myself. I asked Jack about it.
“No, those were only coincidences,” he assured me. “Bad things happen every day all around the world. We just don’t always hear about it. Besides, the spirits of the damned are energetically tethered to Ireland, since the portal they passed through is located here. Though many have made their home in Rosalyn Bay, they could theoretically haunt any town of their choosing, so long as it’s within Ireland’s boundaries. The same holds true for The Vanquished.”
Any town of their choosing, and the majority had opted for Rosalyn Bay? It wouldn’t have been my first choice, but then again, witches and their druidic ancestors had called Rosalyn Bay home for generations, so maybe it was the magic in these lands that had beckoned the spirits and all nature of supernatural beings.
“As for your father striking up an interest in world news, it’s because certain demons feed off human suffering. Whatever has a hold on him was gradually building its strength with every tragedy it watched.”
Nausea mounted in my throat. The idea of a parasite living inside my dad’s body and daily growing in strength was enough to put my stomach on its own spin cycle.
“All right, all right. Enough of the gloom and doom.” Lucas shuffled over to my bed and sank onto the quilt beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight. “I, for one, think we need to liven this party up. Come on, Scarlet Ibis. What do you girls usually do at sleepovers? Pillow fights and rom-coms? Should we make one of those masks with the cucumber slices?”
