Shadow Girl

by Kate Ristau

  “But he kept one part for Niamh, his sister: the Fairerlands. Oberon knew that there were those who were too fragile, who needed the protection of living behind the veil. And he gave them that. He gave them a place to rest across the sea, far away from the Hetherlands and the Shadows. You see, the fey live forever, but for some, that seems too long. They need that place, that haven, untouched by Shadows and the mortal world.”

  Áine caught a strange look in Hennessy’s eye, and she paused. “What’s wrong?”

  “That story—the Shadows. It’s so sad. I mean, because of a couple of stupid kings, we don’t have any magic—any of the Eta—left in our world.”

  Áine remembered how her cut had healed; how sometimes the Eta listened and sometimes they didn’t. “They’re still here. They’re just quieter. Weaker maybe. I’m not sure.” Hennessy still didn’t look satisfied. “What?”

  She scratched her knee and stared out the window. A few seconds passed before she answered. “It’s just—Oberon dropped the veil. He sent those evil humans to the Hetherlands, but he left the rest of us here. In the shadows. In the darkness.”

  Áine winced. She had never thought of it like that. She always thought he was just trying to protect the fey. “Maybe he was worried that it would happen again. That humans are drawn to the shadows, incapable of enjoying the light.”

  Hennessy’s face turned darker. “You think we’re all made for shadows? That we’re so evil that this”—Hennessy threw her hands about her, gesturing in a wide circle—”this is all we could ever want?”

  “That’s not what I meant—”

  “Isn’t it? Your ‘Guardians’ have prevented our crossing for thousands of years, and left us to endure here. Here. When we could have been free from the darkness—” Hennessy’s voice broke and her eyes fell. The anger disappeared as she whispered her next words. “I just can’t imagine being so close, and still being refused everything.” She pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, her next words almost indistinct. “To be so close...to have almost lived in a world where Mam didn’t drink and Collum didn’t hit me. Where Da didn’t leave. To almost have that...that magic...and to lose it because of a bunch of grubbing kings—” Her voice muffled as she hid her face in her knees.

  Áine reached her hand toward Hennessy, gently resting it on her shoulder; she could feel the ragged ends of Hennessy’s dark hair beneath her fingers. “It’s not perfect there, you know,” Áine said. Hennessy sniffed and didn’t raise her head. “But I’ll take you there, if you want. To the Aetherlands.”

  Hennessy lifted her face; dark black tracks ran down her cheeks. “Really?”

  Áine smiled. “Sure. We already have one Guardian on our tail. Why not a couple more?”

  “Damn it. There’s more than one?”

  “Yeah, one for each crossing, so at least nine. I came over at the Willow Crossing, which must be Creed’s. I was planning on taking the Yew Crossing back. It’s closer to Inis Thiar—”

  “Inisheer—”

  “Whatever. I tried to use the Yew Crossing to get over here, but I couldn’t.” Áine remembered how she and Ciaran had run straight into a group of Queene’s Guard patrolling the Barrows. The guards weren’t supposed to be there—Aunt Eri would have been so mad—but that didn’t mean Áine and Ciaran told her about it. They just slipped back into the undergrowth and ran over to the Willow Crossing.

  “I want to take the Yew Crossing back though. I’d rather deal with the Queene’s Guard than more of those Guardians. And we should be fine once we’re back with Aunt Eri. They won’t cross her. We’ll be safe. I mean...if you want to go.”

  “I would.” Hennessy’s eyes shined. “I will. I want to.”

  “Good,” Áine said. “You thirsty?”

  “Yes! And starving.”

  “Here.” Áine pulled her waterskin out of her heavysack and passed it to Hennessy. She took a couple of sips and passed it back to Áine, who finished it off, then pulled Aunt Eri’s loaf of bread out of her bag. It had squished into a ball. Áine ripped it apart and passed a piece to Hennessy, then shoved some in her own mouth. The bread was dense, but perfect.

  Áine remembered how the loaf had been cooling on the counter. She had shoved it in her heavysack right before she ran out the door. The first thing Aunt Eri had probably noticed was the bread gone. She would have been annoyed, and she would have yelled for Áine. When Áine hadn’t answered, Aunt Eri most likely would have looked in her room, then called Ciaran and grilled him. No doubt, he wouldn’t make it easy, but there was no way he’d kept his mouth shut for more than an hour.

  She smiled. Ciaran was going to be so excited to meet Hennessy. Since they were kids, Áine and Ciaran had talked about Shadows. What they were like and what magic they could do. Who knew that she would be bringing one home?

  “God, this is good!” Hennessy said. “Are you even kidding me?”

  “The bread?”

  “Yes! The bread! It’s sweet and thick and filling and tastes like butter and...and I can feel it moving through my body. In a good way. In an amazing way.”

  Áine closed her eyes and thought about the bread.

  Hennessy was right. It was different. It felt different. When she had eaten Collum’s sticky sandwich, she had still been hungry. But Aunt Eri’s bread—just a couple of bites and she felt full and satisfied. “You’re right. I never realized that before. It doesn’t just taste good—it feels good too.”

  “Right? Right! Listen, I’m gonna take a walk around the ferry. See the sights. Move a little bit. How are you even sitting still?”

  Áine laughed and waved Hennessy away. “Go! You’re making me anxious.” Hennessy all but skipped away, heading out toward the deck.

  Áine watched her go with a smile on her face, then scooted over toward the window seat and stared out at the ocean. The waves stirred and moved, almost hypnotizing her, until she nearly forgot everything that had happened. But then the image of Creed with his fiery hands shot back through her, and she flinched.

  Then she remembered how she had called the Eta. How they had listened to her. They listened! Well, at least the first time she called. And then Hennessy had crashed into Creed and they had both got away and left Creed sprawled out on the hood of a car. Áine hoped he was dead. She didn’t think she could really fight him. His magic was so strange. No words. No calling the Eta. Just his hands. And so much power.

  She felt like a child thrust into a world of adults. Confused. Scared. And more than a little angry. What gave Creed the right to send her to the Hetherlands? The Aetherlands was her home. It always had been. And she’d fight for it.

  Once she had that resolved, a sense of relief flooded through her. She would do anything to get back to the Aetherlands. Sure, she had run away, but she would be going back to Aunt Eri. The Shadowlands were not her home.

  She settled back into her seat and stared out at the water, letting the waves wash over her. They rolled in and out, and she longed to feel the water touching her skin, washing over her, cleansing her, like the ripples and eddies of Duende Lake. She could almost hear Aunt Eri calling her home across the sparkling waves.

  Before she knew it, the captain announced their arrival. She had to tear her eyes away from the water, and when she did, her head felt foggy.

  She rubbed her face and shouldered her heavysack to look for Hennessy. On the upper deck, she found her, talking and laughing with a group of older women. Áine waved her hands and Hennessy waved back, her smile stretched across her face. She ran down the stairs toward Áine and tucked her arm underneath Áine’s. “You ready, girl? You looked like you were sleeping over there with your eyes wide open.”

  “I was just watching the water.”

  “Boring! We have work to do! Where first?”

  “I want to take a look around the docks. See if I remember anything. Then we can head up to Baile An tSéipéil.”

  “Sounds good. You got any more of that bread?” Hennessy’s eyes shined
and then dimmed as Áine shook her head. “Then we better get some food for the road. We can stop at the pub.”

  As they headed along the docks, Áine scanned the shoreline for something familiar. Brightly colored shops and cottages lined the roads and nearby hills. Men and women wandered in and out of the shops and lingered at the outside tables. The sandy beach was overrun with small children, and fishermen were lined up along the pier, shouting in an unusual language. Their words, so foreign and strange, called her, beckoned her.

  But the longer she stood there, the more she realized that the foggy docks and houses were inconsequential. Nothing looked familiar. Nothing caught her eye. She wondered if she had come to the right place after all.

  “Recognize anything?” Hennessy asked, dancing from foot to foot.

  “Not yet,” Áine replied. She had believed she would walk off the ferry and straight into her dreams. She had thought that everything would finally make sense. It turned out that was not how the Shadowlands worked. She watched Hennessy tapping her finger on her leg.

  “How you feeling?” Áine asked.

  “Fine,” she said. “Actually, I’m great. I haven’t felt this real—this alive—since I was a little kid. I feel like I could run down the docks, laughing and singing at the top of my lungs.” She twirled in a circle, and ended with a short bow.

  Áine glanced around. They were already attracting quite a bit of attention. Two fishermen were holding their nets and gaping up at them, and a few of the children had stopped playing to stand by the pier and stare.

  Next to all these Shadows, no matter how hard she tried not to, Áine knew she shined just a little brighter. She linked arms with Hennessy again and headed away from the docks. “Maybe not right now?”

  “You’re hilarious. Of course not right now. I said we’ve got work to do! Let’s get some food and get out of here.”

  Áine lowered her head as they slid past people who turned to stare at her. When a man opened his mouth to say something to her, she pulled up her hood and hurried Hennessy along. Hennessy didn’t even notice. She pointed to a shop with a drawing of a large cup and strange letters and ducked inside. Áine followed behind.

  A long counter ran along one wall, with stools pulled up to it, and there were several empty tables and chairs. Áine knew that it was a tavern—like the one where she first met Hennessy—though she’d only seen pictures in her books. Alcohol had no effect on the fey, so there were no real taverns in the Aetherlands. There were plenty of jokes about drunk humans in fey songs though. Ciaran and Ratrael used to sing “The Drunken Irishman” at the top of their lungs as they made their way down to Caerning.

  “Sorry Cailíns, we’re closed for just a bit.” Áine looked up to see an elderly man at the bar, wrinkles wrapped around his smiling face. “The wife’s off in Cork and I have to take a little rest before my bones give out beneath me.”

  “You sure?” Hennessy asked. “We were just looking for some breakfast.”

  “Sorry. The South Aran House is open though. They should—”

  He stopped cold when he caught Áine’s eye. He smiled, then frowned, furrowing his already wrinkled brow. He was quiet for a moment, then seemed to remember himself. “You—uh—you look like someone I used to know. A long time ago.” His voice caught, and he cleared his throat.

  “I was wondering if we could get something to eat?” Áine asked. “We won’t be staying.”

  He suddenly stood up a little straighter and nodded his head happily. “Not a problem. Like I was saying, I just got back from the market. I’ll be right back.”

  Hennessy huffed, collapsing into a tall chair as he hustled into the back room. “Like I was saying, blah blah blah,” she mocked. “Old loon. Whatever. You live a charmed life, Áine.”

  Áine laughed and shook her head. “Not so much. But you Shadows really like to make me food.”

  “Don’t expect it from me, you moocher. I won’t be caught barefoot in the kitchen. Unless I’m getting paid for it. And even then, it better not be a kinky thing.”

  Áine raised her eyebrows, and they both burst into laughter. The tension released from her shoulders. Hennessy had a way of softening the edges. Making it all a little easier. Áine pulled out her waterskin and dropped her heavysack to the ground. She sat down beside Hennessy on a high wooden chair. While Hennessy’s feet swung in the air, Áine’s feet, for once, were comfortably on the ground.

  She turned to Hennessy, but before she could get a word out, the man shuffled back in with a big brown bag. “Out on the island, we don’t get much variety. But what’s in here is good, I’ll promise you that. My wife makes the best colcannon you’ll ever eat. I’m not coddin’ ya.” His smile was so big and warm that Áine couldn’t help but smile back.

  “Thank you so much. Could we get some water too?” Áine held up her waterskin and he took it from her, then held it up to examine it. “You make this yourself? I’ve never seen one quite like this.”

  “Um,” she mumbled. “My aunt made it. A long time ago.”

  “She sure knows what she’s doing.” He filled the waterskin with some sort of strange metal tube. The silver snake hissed; from its small black head, water shot out of its mouth. Áine flinched. More crazy Shadowmagic. “What are you off to today?”

  “We’re heading over to Baile An tSéipéil. Do you think you could tell us how to get there? We’re not from around here.” Áine smirked at how true that was.

  “I figured,” he said, as he passed the waterskin back to her. “Though most out-of-towners call it Chapel Village. Still and all, your Irish is class. Let’s see, the best way is to head up north past Teach an Tae and cut across some stones. Or you can take the long way around. Let me grab you a hiking map.”

  As he walked toward the other end of the bar, Hennessy grabbed the waterskin and whispered, “Your Irish is just class.”

  “Shut up, Hennessy!” Their heads shot up in unison as he came back around the end of the bar. “How’s business been?” Áine asked.

  “Give it about a half hour ‘til lunch and I’ll be running around like a blue-arsed fly.” His face reddened suddenly. “Pardon the language, ma’am.”

  Áine laughed. “You’re fine. Though I’ve never seen a blue-arsed fly.”

  “You’ve seen something that’s blue-arsed,” Hennessy whispered. Áine shushed her and the old man looked up.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “She said it’s a nice day for a walk. Which way do we go?”

  “Just follow this road here.” He pointed toward the map. “And if you girls need any help, stop on by when you come back through. I’m always here. Have been for ninety two years, and will be until He takes me away. Or the wife does, eh?”

  Áine’s head snapped up. “Ninety two years? That’s a long time. Listen, my family...they used to live here. I’m trying to find out more about them. The name’s Claiborne. Have you heard of any Claibornes around here?”

  The old man’s smile disappeared, and his face darkened. “I’ve never heard that name before.” He reached for his rag and started drying a glass, his eyes landing everywhere but on Áine.

  Hennessy tapped on the counter. “You sure? You said you might have recognized her—”

  “I did,” he replied, setting the glass down a little harder. “But I must’ve been wrong. I haven’t heard of no Claibornes around here. You should try over on Inishmore.”

  “Why are you—” Áine cut Hennessy short with a kick to the shin. “Ow, Áine.”

  The moment Hennessy said her name, the old man’s face turned pale.

  “Sorry, Hennessy,” Áine said, her eyes never leaving the old man’s face. He still refused to look at her, but something strange glimmered in his eyes. “Mister, I was just wondering—”

  “I think you ought to be going now,” he murmured. “Yes, I think you should.” He slowly backed away and headed toward the back door. “Up and about. Walk off those sea legs. I don’t mean you no hospitality, but
walking’s the best thing, I always say. Nice to meet you both. Real nice.” He turned, opened the door, and quickly disappeared.

  Hennessy slumped back in her chair. “He knows something.”

  “I know.”

  “Why didn’t you just make him tell you?” Hennessy asked.

  “Cra, I don’t want to do that. It’s freaky, Hennessy. Forcing people to do stuff like that. It’s not natural.”

  “Natural, unnatural, whatever. It’s useful. He’s hiding something, and doesn’t want to tell you. Did you see his face when you said Claiborne? And when I said your name? He knows something.”

  “And there are ways we can find out. Give him a little time, Hen. It’s hard enough—”

  “Did you just call me Hen?”

  Áine paused and smiled. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

  Hennessy raised an eyebrow at her. “Hen? I hate it. Like a chicken. A feckin’ chicken. Do I look like a chicken to you? Am I eating seeds? Am I laying eggs?”

  “Well, you’re certainly laying something—”

  Hennessy threw a napkin at Áine, saying, “Not Hen. Or I will lay something on you.”

  Áine batted the napkin aside and shouldered her heavysack. “I’m not even sure what that means. Must be some Shadow-thing.”

  “It’s a me-kicking-your-ass thing.”

  “Let’s go, Hen.” She nudged Hennessy’s shoulder and ran out the door.