by E. E. Holmes
And I realized. She wasn’t trying to kill him. She was trying to kill herself.
I stopped screaming. I stopped pacing. I stopped breathing. All I could do was stare in horror at Irina’s struggle for the knife, wishing I could stop her from reaching it and yet also wishing I could simply hand it to her.
Ruslo continued to flail, reaching an arm up behind him in an attempt to grab at her face, but Irina, pulling from a freakishly deep well of strength, wound the chain once again around her leg and pulled it tight, so that it cut still deeper into Ruslo’s neck. As he gasped and choked, she pulled him closer in a twisted mockery of an embrace as her fingers scrabbled for the tip of the knife handle.
A flash of movement from beneath the wagon caught my eye. A shape was crawling beneath it, slithering along on its belly like a predator stalking prey. For one wild moment, I thought a jungle cat had found its way into the British countryside, but before the idea could take hold, the lantern dangling from the far end of the wagon dropped to the ground and illuminated the figure.
It was Finn.
With a single swift movement, he swung his arm up, grabbed hold of the knife, pulled it out of its sheath, and flung it away across the grass. Irina, realizing what was happening, let out a savage scream of outrage and tried to haul Ruslo’s twitching body up into the wagon, but too late. Finn leapt deftly up into the wagon and descended upon her. In a few sharp movements he had forced Irina facedown onto the floor of the wagon, and had pinned both of her arms behind her back. Holding her in this position with only his knee, he used both hands to unwind the chain from Ruslo’s neck and shove him out of the wagon and down onto the ground where he lay sprawled in a heap, retching and spluttering.
“Get up, you useless sack of excrement, and go for Dragos!” Finn spat at him. Ruslo did not respond, but instead rolled onto his side and vomited violently into the grass, still gasping and choking for breath.
Swearing loudly, Finn released his hold on Irina and jumped from the wagon. He bent over Ruslo and, a moment later, had swept him up across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and started running with him back toward the camp.
Realizing he was barreling right toward me, I leapt back out of the way. Finn crossed the barrier as though it weren’t even there and started at the sight of me, nearly dropping the now unconscious Ruslo.
“Jess, there you are!” he panted. “I . . . I heard you calling for help, but I came out over there and couldn’t see you, and then I saw what Irina was doing . . . are you all right?”
“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. It’s him we have to worry about,” I said, pointing to Ruslo, whose breathing sounded ragged and strained. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Can’t say for sure,” Finn said. “She could have crushed his windpipe. We have to get him back to the camp. He may be an utterly useless prat, but we can’t just let him die.”
I had a million other questions, but they could all wait until we got Ruslo the help he clearly needed. “I . . . can I help you?” I asked, though I couldn’t see how I could do anything but get in the way.
“Yes, you can,” Finn said, nodding toward the lantern I had dropped to the ground. The flame was still alive inside it. “Pick that up and light the way for me, so I don’t drop him.”
“Yeah, sure. Of course,” I said breathlessly, snatching up the lantern. “This is the path here.”
I had time to steal only one glance back over my shoulder at Irina. She lay curled in a ball just inside the wagon, her shoulders heaving with sobs. She was mourning, yet again, the nearness of her escape from the body she now knew only as her prison.
18
What’s in a Name
“WEAPONIZED SEX,” I said, shaking my head. “Well, you can’t say it wasn’t an effective plan.”
Finn and I sat outside the Herbalist’s tent, waiting for news about Ruslo’s condition. We’d only made it a few yards into the woods when a group of Traveler Caomhnóir met us, having heard my cries for help. After a hurried explanation from Finn about what had happened, the group had split in half, three of them running off toward Irina’s wagon to secure her perimeter and check in on her, while the other three took Ruslo and jogged him off for medical attention. We had followed, unsure of what else to do. There was no chance of sleep, not now, and there was a blazing fire outside of the tent, so it was as comfortable a place as any to wait for news.
“Effective indeed,” Finn said through gritted teeth. “Was he supposed to be the Caomhnóir on guard duty?”
“I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think so,” I said. “The music seems to have drawn him to the clearing just as it did me.”
“What music?” Finn asked. “You didn’t mention music before.”
“Oh, right. Sorry, the nude seduction and attempted murder must have put that right out of my head,” I said, rolling my eyes. “That’s how I wound up at Irina’s clearing. I wasn’t just out for a nighttime stroll. I heard her singing and followed it there.”
Finn raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Four years in the spirit world, and you haven’t learned that following mysterious music off into the woods in the dead of night is a bad idea?”
“It’s not like I got into that wagon with her,” I said defensively. “Save your lectures for Ruslo, he’s the idiot who got within arm’s reach of her.” Now that he said it, though, even I had to admit it was one of the dumbest things I’d ever done. I mean, my God, how many horror films had I seen, and I had just turned into the girl who gets murdered in the first five minutes of the movie.
To distract from the looming truth of my own stupidity, I changed the subject. “How the hell did you get into the clearing? There was some kind of invisible barrier there. I couldn’t get any further than the edge of the tree line.”
Finn pushed up his sleeve and showed me a rune inked onto his forearm, just above his wrist. “There’s a protective circle around that clearing. The Caomhnóir cast it to protect the rest of the camp from Irina’s continued attempts to escape. The only people who can cross its border are the ones who have been marked with this rune. Dragos put it on me when I first checked in with him, just as a precautionary measure. He thought, given why we were here, I may have to interact with Irina during our stay.”
“Oh. That makes sense, then,” I said. “I just can’t believe that Ruslo would cave like that. I mean, besides the fact Irina is incredibly dangerous, what about the ban on Durupinen-Caomhnóir relationships? Why would he risk losing his post?”
“I’m risking losing mine,” Finn said.
“I know, but . . . for a one-off fling? And with a woman who will likely try to kill you? That doesn’t make sense,” I said.
“You’re right, it wouldn’t, if the Travelers had the same rules that we have,” Finn said.
“What do you mean? Don’t all Durupinen everywhere have the same rules?” I asked.
“Of course not,” Finn said. “Don’t you remember the Travelers’ response when they heard about the Leeching that was running rampant in the Northern Clans? A single instance of Leeching could strip you of your Gateway for life under their Council’s rules.”
“Oh, that’s right. I’d forgotten about that,” I muttered. If only the Northern Clan’s rules had been as strong—or at least as strongly enforced—there wouldn’t have been a horde of spirits trapped in the Aether awaiting their destiny of being turned into a Wraith Army for the Necromancers. I took a deep breath and then expelled the negative thought with the air. I had no time or energy to waste on dwelling in a past I couldn’t change.
Well, look at me, being all Zen and shit.
“So, what are the rules for relationships between Caomhnóir and Durupinen?” I asked in a much calmer tone.
“They aren’t forbidden,” Finn replied. “Of course, they aren’t encouraged either, but when clans live cut off from the rest of society like this, social protocols are very different.”
My mouth fell open. “So, you’re saying that Duru
pinen and Caomhnóir can date?”
“Date, marry, what have you,” Finn said, nodding his head. “But this is the trade-off for lax relationships between Caomhnóir and Durupinen; they aren’t taught to resist temptation the way we are, and so they are subject to just this kind of weakness. Couple that with a lack of discipline in general, and suddenly it’s the protectors who need protecting from themselves.”
I scooted my foot over and nudged Finn’s boot with my toe. “Oh, yes. You, for one, are excellent at avoiding the temptation of those Durupinen vixens.”
He smirked down at his boots and then looked up at me. I waggled my eyebrows at him and his smirk split into a sheepish grin. “All right, all right. Well played, that.” The smile vanished as quickly as it had come. “But this is just the kind of objections that will be raised when Hannah proposes the change to the relationship laws. And I must say, I can see the logic.”
I frowned at him. “The logic? What logic? You can’t justify upholding a law just because of one person’s bad decision.”
“They created the law in the first place over just one Prophecy,” Finn pointed out. “Hundreds and hundreds of years’ worth of Caomhnóir-Durupinen relationships, restricted and policed over what would eventually come down to just one person’s decision. Well, two people, really, but you understand my meaning.”
I tried to find a retort for this, but whether I was too exhausted or his reasoning was too sound, racking my brain yielded nothing of consequence.
“I’m starting to wonder whose side you’re on,” I murmured. “You do want the law to be overturned, don’t you?”
“Jess, that’s not fair. Of course, I do,” Finn said, and though I half expected him to bristle at my words, his voice was gentle. “But it won’t do us any good to pretend it won’t be a struggle.”
“Actually, I think it might,” I said, looking up to find his eyes watching me intently. “Hope isn’t a crime, Finn. It might not be practical or logical, but it isn’t a crime. And sometimes people need it to keep moving forward.”
“All right, love,” Finn whispered. “Hope, then. For both of us.”
The flap of the tent behind us swung open. Startled, Finn and I both leapt to our feet like two teenagers caught in a parked car.
“How is he?” we both blurted out at the same time.
Dragos nodded grimly. “He’ll be fine,” he said. “He’s quite lucky she didn’t strangle him to death.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” I said.
“Was he supposed to be on duty?” Finn asked. “Is that why he was in the clearing?”
Dragos nodded again. “He admitted to me that he left his post to relieve himself and get something to eat. He was on his way back when he heard the singing. He has offered no excuse for allowing the Walker to seduce him.”
“That’s because there is no excuse,” Finn said curtly.
“Quite,” Dragos agreed.
“What will happen to Irina?” I asked.
Dragos turned a sharp expression on me, as though I were an impertinent child rather than an equal participant in a conversation between adults. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, will she be punished for what she did tonight?” I asked trying to sound curious, rather than concerned.
“The Walker will likely find another charge added to her extensive list of crimes,” Dragos said.
I bit back the urge to tell him to call her by her name. It wouldn’t do Irina any favors to lose my temper with someone like Dragos. The last thing I needed was for any of the Travelers to think I was biased in Irina’s favor, or they may not take my testimony seriously when it came time to speak before them at the trial.
“We are grateful to you for your intervention, but encourage you to give the Walker’s clearing a wide berth. We cannot guarantee your safety if you venture into it again,” Dragos said to Finn.
Finn nodded, but did not speak. I could tell from the set line of his jaw that he, too, was withholding some harsh words for Dragos.
“If there is nothing else, we will return to the wagon,” Finn said. Dragos waved a hand in dismissal and disappeared back into the tent.
“Come on, then,” Finn said to me. “May as well try to get some sleep before the sun comes up.”
I didn’t reply, sure that sleep would elude me for the rest of the night as surely as Irina’s freedom had slipped through her fingers.
§
Surprisingly, I did manage to nod off for an hour or two, but what I found waiting for me when I woke up made me wish desperately that I’d stayed awake.
“Jess? What’s wrong?” Finn asked, startling me. I hadn’t realized he was awake. I tore my eyes from the sketchpad in my lap and found him staring at me with concern.
“I . . . it’s another spirit drawing. I did it just now while I was sleeping,” I said quietly.
“What did you draw?” he prompted, though the hesitation in his voice made it obvious that he already knew what I would say.
Rather than answer him, I turned the sketchpad around and held it up so that he could see it. There again, the image of Annabelle, slightly transparent, staring down in horror at her own body lying on the ground.
Finn pressed his lips into a thin line. “Is this the same as the last one?” he asked after a few moments of grim silence.
I nodded. “As far as I can tell, it’s identical.”
“What are you going to do?” Finn asked.
“I don’t know. I want to tell her, but what do I say? I don’t know what this means. I don’t know why I keep seeing it. I don’t know where or when it will happen, so all I’ll be doing is frightening her for no good reason.”
“What’s the alternative?” Finn asked.
I threw the sketchbook down onto the bed. “I don’t know. Keep finding excuses to call and make sure she’s okay? She’s going to start thinking I’m stalking her.”
“Better than the alternative,” Finn said. “Still, there must be something you can do to help interpret this? What did Fiona suggest?”
“Nothing particularly helpful. She just told me that I need to try to be ‘open’ to the visions, but how am I supposed to do that while I’m sleeping?”
“Perhaps she just means that you need to accept the idea that you are a Seer. Not just accept it, but embrace it,” Finn said.
I didn’t reply right away. If I was honest with myself, I knew he was right. I would never understand these Seer visions if I didn’t explore this new gift. The problem was that the idea of being a Seer, of having these visions of death and destruction for the rest of my life, was just about the most unwelcome “gift” I could possibly imagine. I didn’t want to embrace it. I wanted to set it on fire and run screaming from it as far as my legs and my fear would take me.
“I don’t think I can do that,” I said finally.
“I don’t blame you, love,” Finn said. He leaned across the narrow aisle between the bunks and kissed me softly on each eyelid. “These eyes have had enough of prophecies to last an eternity, haven’t they?”
His tender expression became a blur as my eyes filled with tears. “Yeah. Yeah, they have.”
§
I tried repeatedly to find a cell phone signal as we walked to the central fire for breakfast, but it was no use. Instead, I reached out into my connection with Milo, and asked him to relay the message to Hannah.
“No worries, sweetness, we’ll check on Annabelle for you. I’ll let you know as soon as we hear back from her,” he assured me.
I sent my thanks zinging back to him, along with my good luck wishes for Hannah. She had her first Council meeting that morning, and I knew she would be nervous.
Irina’s attack on Ruslo was the topic of every conversation around the central fire when Finn and I arrived, bleary-eyed and exhausted, to revive ourselves with cauldron coffee, scrambled eggs, and salt-cured bacon. It became clear, after a few minutes of sitting and listening to the buzz of circulating conversation, that not a single det
ail of the evening had escaped the gossip mill.
“How do they all know? Is there no discretion in these clans?” Finn grumbled into his tin coffee cup.
“Discretion?” I snorted. “Finn, they’re completely isolated here. Flavia once told me there is no such thing as a secret in a Traveler camp, and she’s obviously right.”
I cocked my head over my shoulder. Many of the faces had now turned in our direction and groups of people were openly pointing at us. I suppose we might have still been objects of curiosity even if we hadn’t been involved in the previous night’s events, but now it was as though we were sitting under a bright spotlight.
On the far side of the clearing, I spotted Flavia sitting in a small knot of young Travelers. They were all eating and laughing together. The sight of them made me oddly nostalgic for normal, youthful shenanigans. I felt a pang of loneliness as I thought of Tia, and how much I missed just goofing around the apartment together. I’d spoken to Tia several times since Christmas, but I still hadn’t told her that Hannah and I would be staying in England indefinitely. I just couldn’t work up the courage. How do you admit to your best friend that you’re abandoning her to move to another country, possibly permanently? The mature thing to do would have been to tell her right away, as soon as it became official, so that we could start making all the necessary arrangements for the apartment. So naturally, being me, I was running from that conversation as fast as my immature little legs would carry me.
You know that magical moment you envision, when you look around you and think, “I have a place of my own, a job, and I look after myself. I now officially feel like an adult.”
Yeah, I was starting to think that moment was a myth.
“Jess!”
I looked up to see Flavia beckoning me over to her with both hands. I nodded and picked up my plate.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Finn, and made my way slowly through the milling crowd around the fire, holding my plate high above my head lest someone reach out and snatch it from me while there was still even a morsel of bacon on it.