The Gateway Trackers Books 3 & 4

by E. E. Holmes

  “. . . and I feel like I had everything all figured out, and suddenly I have nothing figured out at all . . .”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said again.

  “And I’m just alone in this apartment, and I’m going crazy,” she sniffed. “And I can’t stand it. I need to get out of here, but I just can’t go home to my parents. I can’t deal with my mother hovering or my father interrogating me, or—”

  “Come here!” I blurted out. Hannah’s eyes went wide and she started shaking her head furiously. I turned my back on her.

  “What? What do you mean, come there? Aren’t you coming home?” Tia asked.

  “Well actually, no,” I said. “It’s a long story, but the fact is that we’re going to be here for a while. I was working up the courage to tell you when you called. But that doesn’t matter now. You need to get away. I need to see my best friend. Dig out your passport. Get on a plane.”

  Tia sounded horrified. “I . . . I couldn’t just . . . I have to plan . . .”

  “What is there to plan?” I asked. “Tia, you just said you have to get out of there. Do it. Get out. Come here. Just be spontaneous and do something crazy.”

  Tia gave a terrified squeak. “Just . . . just buy a ticket to England?”

  “It’s England, not the moon! Throw some shit in a bag and get on a plane. You can figure out the rest when you get here. I’m serious, Tia. For once in your life, do what you want to do and not what you think you’re supposed to do!”

  Tia was silent. I thought for a minute that the shock of considering a spur-of-the-moment decision might have made her head explode, but then I heard her trembling voice reply. “Okay. Okay, I’m doing it. I’m buying a ticket right now. Well, I have to take an exam tomorrow and hand in a paper, but then—”

  “Good. Text me your flight details when you have them. We’ll work through this together, Ti. It’s going to be okay.”

  Tia laughed through her tears. “Yeah, the dizzying lack of control is already dulling my heartbreak.”

  “Good. I’m here. Call me whenever you need to. Seriously. Love you, Ti.”

  “Love you, too, Jess.”

  I put down the phone. Hannah was looking anxiously at me.

  “Is she okay?” she asked.

  “Nope,” I said. “But she will be.”

  “I can’t believe she agreed to do it,” Hannah said, biting her lip. “That’s so . . . not Tia.”

  “I know. I wasn’t expecting her to actually go through with it,” I admitted. “There’s at least a fifty percent chance that she’ll talk herself out of it before she can book a flight. But hopefully the recklessness that comes with heartbreak will help her see it through.”

  “Look, Jess, I think it’s great that you invited her, and I’ll be really glad to see her, but . . .” Hannah gestured around us. “There’s no way she’s going to be allowed to come here. The Council made some exceptions about what you could tell her, yes, but to actually let her on the grounds here?”

  “I know, I know,” I said. “Sorry, I wasn’t really thinking that part through. But, hey, we’re Trackers now. I’m sure we can pull some strings for a flat or a hotel room until we get our own living arrangement sorted out.”

  “That’s true,” Hannah said, and finally let her face relax into a smile. “I’m glad she’s coming, Jess. It will be good for you to have your best friend here.”

  “Is someone summoning best friends?” Milo asked, floating through the wall and coming to rest on Hannah’s bed.

  I laughed. “Impeccable timing as usual, Milo, but we weren’t talking about you. Tia’s coming to visit.”

  “Fabulous!” Milo squealed, clapping his hands with glee. “But where is she going to—”

  “I’m working on that part,” I said. “But we’re going to need all hands on deck when she gets here, especially you. It’s going to be operation cheer up Tia, and we need your expertise.”

  “Why?” Milo asked, looking puzzled.

  “Sam just broke up with her,” Hannah said.

  Milo’s face turned from sunshine to storm clouds in half a second. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t float right back across the ocean and haunt the ever-loving shit out of that boy,” he growled.

  “I’ll give you two,” Hannah said quickly. “You can’t possibly materialize that far away on your own, and Sam won’t even be able to see you.”

  “That doesn’t mean I couldn’t still wreak some havoc,” Milo whined.

  “But all the nuance of your sass would be lost. Hardly worth it,” I said. “Besides, he’s going to get an earful from me as soon as I can get him on the phone.”

  Milo sighed dramatically. “Whatever. But I’m asking Tia for permission when she gets here. That boy clearly needs a dose of afterlife vengeance, courtesy of moi and I am only too happy to deliver it. Gift-wrapped.”

  “Fine. We’ll leave it up to Tia,” I said, knowing full well that Tia would never let Milo do anything of the sort. “How long do we have until the coronation?”

  “About half an hour,” Hannah said, checking her watch and then closing her notebook. “We should probably start getting ready.”

  Though Celeste had been acting High Priestess for several weeks now, her formal ceremony had not yet been held, due to a number of arcane ceremonies and moon-cycle-related conditions that had to be met before she could officially take her position as head of the Northern Clans. But tonight was the new moon, and so with it, we would crown our new High Priestess. And as much as I was not looking forward to the over-the-top displays of pomp and circumstance, I was glad that I would have the chance to watch Celeste ascend the throne. She seemed by far the best choice for the job.

  Ten minutes later, decked out in our clan garb, Hannah and I descended the stairs for the entrance hall, where we would line up with the other clans. Each of us had a white candle in a brass holder clutched in our hands, and a triskele pendant bouncing against our throats. The hall was already filled with milling Durupinen, all murmuring excitedly about the ceremony.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t change out of the jeans,” Hannah hissed at me.

  “I can’t believe you thought I would consider changing out of the jeans,” I said with a smirk.

  “Seriously, Jess. Everyone else is dressed up. There’s a banquet afterward,” Hannah said, pointing around at the other women. Most of them were wearing dresses and skirts under their clan sashes.

  “And I’m really good at eating food in jeans,” I replied. “Give it a rest, Hannah. No one cares what I’m wearing.”

  We arrived at our designated spot and slid into line. I scanned the line of waiting Caomhnóir by the doors, hoping to catch Finn’s eye, but I couldn’t find him.

  “Hannah, do you see Finn?” I asked, scanning the line again.

  Hannah craned her neck and stared for a few moments before frowning. “No.”

  I started to search the rest of the hall, but Hannah tapped my shoulder and pointed back to the line of Caomhnóir. “Who is that, holding our clan colors?”

  I followed her finger and saw a tall, hulking, unfamiliar man standing with our clan banner on a pole. Mystified, I counted the number of Caomhnóir and the number of Durupinen clans. They matched.

  “What the hell?” I muttered. I thrust my candle at Hannah. “Here, hold this. I’ll be right back.”

  I shunted my way through the crowd, my mind running in a hundred different directions. Was he sick? Had Seamus put him on some other kind of security duty? It seemed strange, given that all the Durupinen were meeting together in the Grand Council Room, that there would be a need for security anywhere else, unless Celeste needed some sort of special guard? Maybe that was it. I walked along the line of Caomhnóir, all of whom completely ignored me, until I was standing right beside the one whose banner matched the sash I currently had flung over my shoulder.

  “Excuse me?”

  He didn’t look at me, merely grunted to acknowledge he had heard me.
/>   “Where is Finn Carey?” I asked him.

  He shot a quick look at me from the corner of his eye, and then shrugged. “Dunno,” he said.

  “Well, you’re currently doing the job that’s supposed to be his,” I said, stepping around so that he was forced to look at me. “He’s our Caomhnóir, not you. He is sworn to our clan, you’re not. Why isn’t he here, holding this banner?”

  Again, the Caomhnóir just sort of grunted and shrugged.

  I felt my anger rising in me, an anger tinged around the edges with just a hint of panic. “Are you seriously incapable of answering a simple question, or do you need me to—”

  “Jessica.”

  I turned to see Fiona standing at the bottom of the stairs, her face expressionless.

  I threw the Caomhnóir one last dirty look and stalked over to meet Fiona.

  “Fiona, do you know—”

  “Celeste asked me to fetch you. She’s waiting for you in here,” Fiona said, her face and voice still oddly blank. She pointed to a narrow door set into the same wall as the Grand Council Room entrance. “She needs to see you immediately, before the ceremony begins.”

  “Why? What’s going on?” I asked, the panic spreading now, quickening my pulse.

  “It will only take a moment,” Fiona said, her voice still unconcerned. It occurred to me, as I looked at her, that she was keeping our interaction intentionally boring, trying to not draw attention from the surrounding crowd. I thought I saw a flash of something in her eyes, too, a plea not to make a scene.

  “Okay,” I said, as calmly as I could. “Should I get Hannah, or . . .”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. She only asked for you,” Fiona said, gesturing to the door again.

  Swallowing hard, I followed her to the door and walked through it.

  Celeste stood in the center of the room, looking like the fairy queen at the heart of a high fantasy novel. Her long dark hair spilled down her back, and her slender form was clad in a long, silvery-white gown that spilled out behind her like enchanted water. Delicate gold jewelry adorned her wrists and neck, and a circlet of intricate gold vines and leaves clung to her hair. She quite literally took my breath away. Which meant I had no air left in my lungs to gasp when I saw who was standing beside her.

  Ileana, High Priestess of the Traveler Clans had come to Fairhaven.

  My mind was spinning as I stared at the two of them together. Ileana knew. She had to know. Why else could she possibly be here? Had they forced the truth out of Flavia, or tracked down Annabelle, or else found some other evidence that tied us to Irina’s escape? My palms began to sweat.

  “Jess. Thank you for coming,” Celeste said. Her expression was very serious.

  “Of course,” I said, inclining my head. I was relieved to hear that my voice sounded calm even as my insides writhed with fear. “And High Priestess Ileana. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Ileana did not answer my question, but gave an ironic little bow as she smirked at me, her pipe clutched between her teeth.

  “Jess, as you can see, Ileana has come to see me with concerns about your recent visit to her camp,” Celeste said. “I have just been discussing her concerns, which I agree are valid and need to be addressed at once.”

  My mouth was horribly dry. I tried to swallow before I spoke, but my voice still sounded cracked when I spoke. “And what concerns are those? If she has any issues with how I handled myself in regard to my role as a Tracker, I have already given a full report to my superiors.”

  “This,” said Celeste, “has nothing to do with your role as a Tracker. This is about your Caomhnóir, Finn Carey.”

  I frowned, looking back and forth from one to the other. “What about Finn? He didn’t do anything wrong. Look, if it’s about the rune I used to get into Irina’s clearing, I put that on myself.”

  “Jessica,” Celeste said, holding up a hand to cut me off. “Are you or are you not engaged in a romantic relationship with Mr. Carey?”

  “I . . . what?” I whispered.

  “Are you and Mr. Carey involved with each other romantically?” Celeste asked again sternly.

  “I . . . no, of course not,” I replied, trying to think through the panic now coursing through my veins. “Those relationships are forbidden.”

  “I am well aware of that, which is why I have brought you here,” Celeste said. “We have reason to believe that you have indeed engaged in such a relationship.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “When you were escorted from the Traveler camp, you and Mr. Carey left many of your belongings behind. When the Traveler Caomhnóir went to collect them, so that they could be returned to you, they found these.”

  She extended both of her hands. In the left one was the crumpled-up sketch I had done of Finn, his chest bare. In the other, Finn’s black book of poetry.

  “I’d like to give you the opportunity to explain this,” Celeste said solemnly.

  “I . . . it’s just a sketch,” I said. “I draw people constantly. I have sketches of nearly everyone I interact with, spirits included. In fact, I’ve drawn sketches of both of you,” I added, gesturing to each of them in turn. “And you’ll notice that I’m not in a romantic relationship with either of you.”

  “You surely can agree, though, can’t you, that this sketch appears to be . . . intimate,” Celeste said delicately.

  I shrugged as off-handedly as I could. “Not really, no. I was bored. I drew him because he happened to be there. He’s always there. That’s kind of his job. In fact, he’s supposed to be here now, but I couldn’t find him in the entrance hall. Do you know where he is?”

  “Never mind that now,” Celeste said. “Very well, then. What about this?” She held out the book.

  I shrugged again. “It’s a blank book. Finn writes in them all the time. He has a whole bunch of them.”

  “And do you know what he writes?” Celeste asked.

  “No,” I lied.

  “You’ve never once asked him what he writes in these books?” Celeste pressed.

  “Finn is a private guy. Even if I had asked him, I doubt he would have told me,” I said. “He likes to write, I guess, just as I like to sketch. That doesn’t mean I’m going to share my work with him, or anybody for that matter.” My pulse was pounding with the lie. Was Finn somewhere in another room, being asked these same questions right now? What if our answers didn’t match up? What would happen then?

  “I find it rather hard to believe that you would not know the contents of Mr. Carey’s notebooks, when this one seems to be a collaboration,” Celeste said coolly. She opened up the cover of the book, and I realized, with a jolt, that it was the one I had illustrated for him for Christmas. Every page was branded with my own work, an undeniable fingerprint of my presence.

  I did not say anything. I just stood there, staring down at the book.

  “Many of these poems,” Celeste went on quietly, “are titled with your name. Just your name.”

  “Are they?” I whispered.

  “Yes.”

  I could feel the walls closing in around me, the avenues of escape sealing themselves up. I looked up at Ileana, and she was actually grinning, as though she could hear every desperate thought that was pounding through my brain.

  Celeste sighed and closed the book. She set it down on a nearby table, along with the sketch. “While there is no definitive proof that you and Mr. Carey have truly embarked on a relationship that would be forbidden by our laws, I must say that the evidence that Ileana has provided is compelling. It shows me that your professional relationship with Mr. Carey is likely to be crossing a dangerous line, and that to allow him to continue to act as your guardian would be irresponsible.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, the words hardly more than a breath. “Where is Finn?”

  “I spoke with him last night, when Ileana first arrived,” Celeste said. “He denied any impropriety on your part, though he admitted that the book was his, and that
he had written the poems inside it.”

  “But where is he?” I asked again.

  “He is gone,” Celeste said. “Seamus has reassigned him, at my request.”

  “Re—reassigned him?” I stammered. What did that word even mean? Words had no meaning. They were just sounds that meant nothing.

  “Yes,” Celeste said, and though her tone was brisk and commanding, her eyes were sad. “I deemed it prudent. Even if, as you both say, there has been no impropriety, it is clear that you have become closer than Caomhnóir and Durupinen ought to be. For the sake of both of our reputations, and to avoid any . . . issues . . . down the road, I have ordered him reassigned. A new Caomhnóir has already been assigned to your clan. He will introduce himself when the coronation ceremony is over.”

  “You . . . you can’t do this . . .” I whispered.

  “It is already done,” Celeste said. “And anyway, if things are as you say, what does it matter? One guardian will do as well as another.”

  I couldn’t speak. This was what it felt like to drown.

  “Well, High Priestess, I should be letting you get on with your coronation,” Ileana said, clapping her hands together and rubbing them. “I apologize for having to inconvenience you on such an important day, but I know how tough your job can be, and I didn’t want this situation to complicate things for you in your first days.”

  Celeste turned to her. “Thank you, Ileana. Safe travels, then.”

  Ileana gave Celeste a bow, and then turned to swagger out. “Northern Girl,” she said, with an ironic salute, and swept through the door. I watched her go, the room spinning around me, unable to catch my breath, a hollow vacuum where my heart had, until just moments ago, been hammering madly.

  “Jess,” Celeste’s voice came from behind me. It was soft, sad. I turned to look at her. It might just have been the reflected gleam of her dazzling ensemble, but her eyes shone as she looked at me. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But it is clan law. I’m trying to protect you before it’s too late.”