by Kate Ristau
Hennessy threw off the covers. “Not now!” she said, pulling on her coat. “We need to get out of here!” She grabbed her phone and boots while Áine pulled on her cloak and tied her heavysack. Áine felt the door—it was cool to the touch. She started to open it, when Hennessy started yelling.
Áine jerked around and saw Hennessy shouting into her phone. “Our house is on fire! 223 Liscannor Road. Rossaveel. Got it?” She shoved the phone back in her pocket, and Áine finally understood. Hennessy wasn’t crazy. She was calling for help. Her magic was incredible.
She shook her head as she opened the door. Smoke flowed into the room, and she slammed the door shut again. An image flashed through her mind—Ratrael—the blackthorns burning. His arm disintegrating. She shook her head and looked back at Hennessy, who had climbed up on the bed to pull her Nana’s portrait off the wall. Áine grabbed her arm and dragged her off the bed and toward the door. “That’s it. Nothing else. We need to get out of here. It’s getting too hot. Stay low to the ground. There’s a lot of smoke out there.”
“Damn it!” Hennessy said. “What about Collum! And Mam! They’re both wasted. They won’t even wake up!”
“I’ll get Collum—you get your mother. Where’s his room?”
“That way. Two doors.”
“Good luck,” Áine said. She squeezed Hennessy’s hand, then dropped it, opening the door.
Smoke immediately stung her eyes. Fire sizzled and popped, casting flickering shadows down the hallway. Her eyes watered and she dropped to the ground, crawling past the first door. By the time she got to the second door, Áine could barely breathe. She held her hand over her mouth and tried to push the door open. Her hands slipped and the door stuck. Coughing hard, she dragged herself up and grabbed the knob, then shoved her shoulder into the door. It fell open and she stumbled into the room, wheezing and trying to catch her breath.
A wave of warmth blasted behind her and she turned back around just as a blast of fire shot down the hallway. The flames formed the shape of a Goodweather man, its arms and limbs ablaze. She swallowed a scream and slammed the door shut, crushing the charred hand that reached for her from the depths of the flames. The smoke followed her as she stumbled away from the door, trying to escape the searing heat. “Collum!” she croaked, then cleared her throat and made for the dark shape in the corner of the room. “Wake up!” she yelled, ripping the covers from his bed.
“What the hell—” His eyes went from confused to happy to terrified. “Áine. What’s happening?”
“Fire!” Áine jerked on his arm until he fell out of bed, then she looked for a way out. She saw a small window behind Collum, and she jumped up on the bed and tried to open it. It didn’t budge.
“Collum! How do you open this?”
His eyes were riveted on the smoke pouring through the crack under the door. He didn’t say anything—he just grabbed his blanket and pulled it back over himself.
She pushed on the window, pulled on it, even asked it to open. But it didn’t budge. “Cra!” she yelled, and grabbing a chair, she threw it through the window. The glass shattered, exploding into the night. Collum, in a fit of coughing, recoiled farther under the blanket, but Áine reached over and pulled it off him. “Get up,” she said, staring directly into his eyes. He nodded and rose to his feet. She covered her hands with the blanket and punched out the rest of the window. Then she laid the blanket on the window ledge and pushed Collum toward it. He climbed out and she followed right behind. Her heavysack snagged on the glass and she ripped it free, tumbling headfirst into the hedgerow.
When she pulled herself up out of the bushes, Collum stood there, shaking and wide-eyed behind her.
“Where’s Hennessy?” he said.
Áine looked around and realized they were behind the house. “She went to get your mother. Maybe she’s in front?” Áine grabbed Collum’s arm and pulled him toward the front of the house. Smoke was already streaming out of the houses on either side, and a loud screeching broke the night.
She ground to a halt on the street in front of the house. The scene there made no sense. The trees lining the street were on fire. The houses were all on fire. The cars were on fire. The bushes were on fire. The flames burst into the darkness, and people were running everywhere and screaming.
This had never happened to her before. She had never had so much power.
A dark shadow flew across the street and dived into one of the houses.
“Crows,” Áine whispered, and her shoulders tightened. “I didn’t do this. It’s him. He’s here.”
“Who?” Collum asked.
Áine shook her head quickly. “Nobody. Do you see Hennessy?”
“Is that her? In the garage? In Mam’s car? What is that?”
“I don’t know! I’m going—”
“Áine, wait—” He pushed her back suddenly as the garage blasted outward in a surge of fire and smoke. A car emerged from the wreckage and pulled up right in front of them.
Hennessy shouted out the window: “We have to go! He’s in there! And Mam—just get in!”
Collum jumped in the car and Hennessy gestured for Áine to get in too.
Áine grabbed Hennessy’s hand through the window. “Go!” she said. “Get her some help. I’m going to the docks.”
“You can’t!” Hennessy said. “That’s insane. He’s out there.”
“You need to get them some help. And I can distract him. I’ll head toward the docks. Which way?”
Hennessy glanced over at her mother, then shook her head and unbuckled her seatbelt. “Collum. Drive.” Hennessy jumped out of the car and Collum slipped into the driver’s seat.
“No!” Áine yelled, backing away from Hennessy. “You’re not coming. Go with them! I’ll be fine.”
Hennessy turned on her, the fire reflecting in her eyes. “Shut up. I’m not leaving you with that psycho-guy. He just burned down my bloody house. You need my help. You don’t even know where you’re going.” She turned around and waved Áine forward. “Let’s get my car.”
Collum’s car squealed away, and Áine threw her arms up in the air. He was halfway down the lane, and he never even looked back.
Áine sighed and her eyes trailed after Hennessy, who was already sprinting up the street. What was with this girl? Why couldn’t she—
A blast of heat hit Áine’s face and she stumbled back. Hennessy’s house rumbled and shook, then exploded outward in a shower of flames. Áine threw her cloak over her head and dropped to her knees, covering her eyes. Ash, cinders, and heat slammed into her and she fell into herself, sweating and trembling under the fiery blast.
The wind shifted suddenly, drawing the fire away, and the heat disappeared, along with the smoke. She pulled back her cloak and watched a dark shape emerge out of the wreckage.
The flames didn’t touch him, and he pulled off his hood to reveal bright-white skin etched with black tattoos that crawled over his face and head. A shining silver scar cut his face in half. His bright scarlet eyes whirled toward Áine.
She grabbed Hennessy and dragged her back toward the trees on the far side of the street. The smoke thickened and fire lit up the night, casting confusing shadows. “Where’s the car?” she whispered to Hennessy.
The tree in front of her instantly burst into flames, and Áine cried out, then covered her mouth. But she was too late.
“I know you’re there, Shadowgirl,” he said. “I can feel it in the way you breathe. In and out. So frail. So human. Just like that one.”
Áine looked over at Hennessy, who pointed toward her car, but Áine shook her head. “Too far,” she whispered.
“We can run behind the line of trees,” Hennessy said. “If we make it to the end of the block, we can hide behind those cars.”
Áine scanned the trees lining the block and agreed. “Follow me.”
She steadied herself and launched toward the next tree, but halted suddenly as it burned even brighter. Hennessy plowed into her, and Áine caught her arm, p
ulling her up before she fell to the ground.
His voice blasted into her ears. “You can’t hide in those shadows, Áine. I can see you. The Eta are crawling all over you.”
As he said her name, all of the energy drained out of her. She wavered and collapsed beneath the burning tree, shielding her eyes. She’d never make it past the line of trees. There was nowhere to hide. He would burn her alive.
She shook her head violently, but couldn’t think. He was enchanting her, tricking her. She knew it. But she couldn’t get the image of the burning hand—the roasting flesh—out of her mind. Everywhere she looked, fire, death, darkness, and her nightmare reigned. Even the shadows were on fire.
Hennessy grasped Áine’s hand and pulled her back up. “Snap out of it!” she yelled. “This isn’t working. We have to run for it.”
Hennessy’s words broke the spell, and Áine’s eyes refocused on Hennessy’s face. Her eyes were wide and her jaw was set. An image of Aunt Eri burst into Áine’s mind. Eri hadn’t backed down from Kern. Hadn’t let him win. Áine straightened her shoulders and pushed her hair out of her face. As she stood, she repeated Aunt Eri’s words: Clear your mind.
“Go start the car. Pick me up at the end of the road.” Before Hennessy could argue, Áine jumped from behind the tree and ran into the street.
The fire fairy stood there, arms raised in welcome. “There she is. My Shadowgirl. Emerging from the darkness.”
“Who are you?” she asked. “What do you want?”
“Don’t you remember? I guess not. You were such a little thing when she took you. And it’s been so long. My name is Creed. I’m a Guardian of the Crossing. You didn’t have my leave to pass into the Shadowlands, and you know the rules. I cannot let you stay.”
“Fine. I don’t belong here anyway.”
“Well, see, that’s the tricky part, isn’t it? You truly don’t belong here, but you definitely don’t belong in the Aetherlands.” He looked her up and down and then wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Your flesh reeks of shadows. Putrid. Frail. Weak. I won’t send you to the Aetherlands.”
“But it’s my home—”
“It was your home. Not anymore. Humans aren’t allowed to make that crossing.”
“That’s not—”
“Fair. I know. Technicalities. But we don’t want another Balor War, do we? All those filthy humans spreading their shadows, their misery.”
“But you have to—”
“I don’t have to do anything. Except guard the Crossing and protect the Eta from the Shadows. Protect them from the likes of you.” Flames flickered in front of his feet, and he bent down and scooped them up, resting them on the palm of his hand. “So, if you can’t stay here, and you can’t go there, that leaves me only one choice: the Hetherlands.”
“But I—”
“But nothing!” The flames flared up in his hand. “You have broken the law of the crossing. You have no right to be here. I’m sending you back across the veil.”
He raised his hand and the flames shot up his fingertips.
She stared down at her own hands, willing the light to shine within her. “Ecoté Eta.” Then with more power, she screamed, “Ecoté Eta!”
Fire flashed from his fingertips, and she dove to the side as the ground exploded underneath him. She rolled away and raced toward the cars at the far end of the block. She glanced over her shoulder as Creed rose to his feet, hands aflame.
“Ecoté Eta!” she screamed again, but the Eta were gone. Her words were lifeless. “Four veils!” she swore, diving behind a large metal box. The box instantly burst apart and sent her flying into a tree. Her heavysack broke her fall, and she scrambled to her feet just in time to see Creed’s hands raised once more.
“Safe travels,” he said, and his eyes gleamed in the firelight.
But before the flames could leave his hand, Hennessy’s bright white car slammed into him, and he flew into the air, landing with a crash on top of another car. Hennessy shoved the door open, and Áine dove inside. The car roared and Hennessy hooked a left down the fiery street. As Áine pulled the door shut, she glanced back at the lifeless form on top of the car, beneath a burning tree. The silver scar sliced across his empty face. His fire was gone. At least for now.
She fell back into the seat and pushed her hair out of her eyes, then let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.
She hadn’t hesitated to risk her life for Hennessy. Still, when she caught Hennessy’s eye, Áine blushed deeply, suddenly hyperaware of the Shadow sitting next to her.
Dark smudges lined Hennessy’s cheeks and her hair was spiked to one side. She rubbed her eye with one dirty hand. Her breath came fast, but she seemed okay.
The silence in the car, after the craziness of the last few minutes, was like diving into the springs at Caerning. Bracing, but refreshing. But, it quickly turned stale. Áine tried to think of something to say, but kept coming up blank. Hennessy had lost her house. Everything she ever had.
“Hennessy, I—” All the words emptied out of her. What could she say that would ever make it better? Where could she even start? She never had the right words, never knew what to say. Ratrael used to call her an emotionless troll. Maybe he was right. Look what happened to him. And to Hennessy. He’d lost his arm, and she’d lost everything.
Áine ran her fingers through her hair. She told herself to start at the beginning. To start with one word: sorry.
Before she could get the words out, Hennessy said, “I thought all faeries were charming. He was not charming.”
Áine smiled, and then giggled. When Hennessy burst into laughter, Áine laughed even harder, her head falling back against the seat.
It was going to be okay. The fires were gone. They had stood up to Creed, and he had fallen. He had failed. He couldn’t stop her. Áine had survived the inferno—she was driving away from it—and she was on her way to find out what had happened to her mother.
The shadows began to fade in the morning light as they made their way toward the ferry. But even as they left the fire behind, the smoke still lingered in her nose.
Six
They arrived at the docks just as the first ferry was preparing to leave the harbor. Hennessy parked the car and paid for their tickets; Áine watched the road behind them. No cars pulled in, and as they made their way onto the huge white ship, no one followed them onboard.
The upper deck was crawling with people, but the main cabin was mostly empty, so they made their way in there. By a window in the cabin, Áine stood and scanned the rocky shore. When the docks receded into the distance, she finally felt like she could breathe.
Hennessy settled into a corner bench, and Áine collapsed beside her, pulling her heavysack onto her lap as she scanned the boat. Her eyes landed on a large group of men sitting in one corner of the room, talking loudly. They were young and noisy, but harmless. She skipped over them, her eyes lingering for a moment on a couple snuggling on a bench in the far corner.
“They’re cute, aren’t they?” Hennessy said. Áine blushed, and Hennessy continued, “I mean, not the snogging or anything. But the way they’re looking at each other. It’s so real, you know? You ever had anything like that?”
She thought of Ciaran. How so many times they had found themselves on the edge of something, but she’d held back, not wanting to take it too far.
“My friend, Ciaran. We’re close. And there’s something there. Something really good. But I don’t want to ruin what we have.”
“I totally get it. That feeling. I used to think I had something real with Tom, but that was just wishful thinking. Tom doesn’t want anything ‘long-term,’ he says. Whatever. That’s fine. Once I’ve got enough money saved, I’m out of here.”
“To find your dad?”
“Yeah. Why not? There’s nothing left. Then maybe London. Or Paris. That’s the dream, right?” She paused for a moment, staring out the window. “You know, when I saw our house burn down, when everything was destroyed...I didn’t even
care. Isn’t that mad? But...it’s just stuff. A lot of stuff. And I don’t want it anymore.”
“I can’t believe you’re not angry. I wanted to...I’m sorry. For everything—”
“Don’t even start. It’s not really your fault. Besides, Collum just texted me. Mam’s okay, and he’s being super nice too. And God, you. You, well, you’re you.” Hennessy smirked and pinched Áine’s arm. “You’re real. And that’s more than enough for me. It makes me wish I could run over to Nana’s and tell her my own story. Just like the ones she used to tell. She would have just died. Seriously, though, hers were never like this.”
“My aunt always says that’s how you can tell a real story from a fable...sometimes the real ones don’t fit together as nicely.”
“Agreed. But we’re still together, right?”
Áine blushed and, biting her lip, she added, “Yes, we are. And Oberon help me, I think that might be a good thing.”
“You’re smart to hold off on calling it good or bad. I’d wait to see what happens too. I’m a handful. At least that’s what Nana always said. I always told her I was two handfuls.” She held up two hands in the air and waggled them. “Wait one second, though. You keep saying Oberon. Do you mean he’s real? Like from Midsummer Night’s Dream? The king of the fairies?”
“Yeah, he’s real. I mean he was.”
Hennessy sighed and relaxed back into her seat. “I can’t believe he was real. I used to love to read about him. What happened to him? Why do you keep swearing with his name?”
Áine smirked. “I probably shouldn’t.” Oberon had already given up so much. When she was little, Aunt Eri would tell her and Ciaran the story of his sacrifice. While Áine and Ciaran kneaded the bread dough, Eri would explain how Oberon was once her friend, and how he had given up everything to hold back the Shadows.
“He sacrificed himself to save the fey,” Áine said, testing Eri’s words in her mouth. They felt strange, but good. “You see, thousands of years ago, the fey and the Shadows—the humans—lived together. But the humans started practicing their Shadowmagic. Their dark magic destroyed the Eta—the life that is inside everything—leaving darkness—Shadows—behind. In their greed for power and control, the humans were destroying the world. Oberon begged the Shadow Kings to stop, but they refused, leading to the first Balor War. The wars raged on for centuries, and Oberon knew that those shadows would eventually destroy all of us. So, using every last drop of his magic, down to his very own soul, he drew the veils between the worlds. He divided them up: the Shadowlands, where you live, and the Aetherlands for the fey. But he didn’t stop there. He sent those humans who had been practicing the Shadowmagic—the Illumasferá—and the fey who helped them straight into the Hetherlands, a wicked place.