by Kate Ristau
Seven
The sun peeked out from behind the clouds as they made their way out of the village and up through the rocky pastures. The hiking map led them through a farmer’s field and over several low stone walls. After they climbed over the fifth stone wall, Hennessy tripped over a fallen rock and nearly landed on her face. Áine reached down to help her, but Hennessy knocked her hand away.
“This is stupid,” she said. “If we just talk to that old man—”
“We will. But let’s give him a little time. We can check out the cottage and stop by on our way back through. Even if he’s not willing to talk, maybe he can point us toward somebody who will.”
“He’s ninety-two years old. I’m sure you could just make him tell you.”
“Leave it, Hennessy. I don’t want to do that. I mean, would you like me to do that to you?”
“You mean you aren’t? Then why the hell am I following you everywhere? I must be crazy.” Hennessy threw her hands up in the air. “That’s it! I’m losing my mind. I inhaled too much smoke. I assumed you were enchanting me.”
“You don’t have to come—”
“Oh, shut up. You know I want to. I’m just messing with you.”
Áine smiled as she climbed over a low rock wall. “I knew that,” she said, turning back toward Hennessy, who was scrambling over the stones. “I just didn’t want you to think you had to.”
“Stop trying to get me to leave. I’m sticking around, like your shadow, whether you like it or not.” She paused and smirked. “Your shadow. I bet you didn’t think you’d have a shadow like me.”
Áine looked at the dark outline beneath her own feet. “I never thought I’d have one at all. They’re so strange—”
“Thanks. That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all day.”
“That’s not what I meant. But you’re different than what I expected too.”
“How?”
“In every one of Aunt Eri’s tales, the Shadows were so greedy. And stupid. I was starting to wonder how they were even able to fight the Balor Wars in the first place. But then we met. And you’re so...different. So alive. Even without the Eta on your skin, you shine.”
“What’s funny is I thought the same thing about you,” Hennessy replied, lightly tugging on the fringe of Áine’s cloak. Áine felt her skin getting hotter even though the day was so cool. “You were so bright and beautiful and you just...well, ran out of the forest like some fairy straight out of one of Nana’s tales.” Hennessy slipped her fingers into Áine’s hand. “But you were real. Honestly real.”
Hennessy’s hand, for all her frenetic energy, felt warm and soft. Áine squeezed it gently, and Hennessy placed her other hand over Áine’s, rubbing her thumb in small circles. Staring at their intertwined fingers, Áine felt a sudden tightness in her stomach. Ciaran had held her hand the same way when he had begged to come. And she had left him behind. Now she was holding Hennessy’s hand. It was all happening too fast.
Áine relaxed her fingers and began to pull away.
“Woo!” someone yelled.
Áine whirled around, placing herself in front of Hennessy. She looked uphill, and saw a group of three men heading down toward them.
Hennessy peered over her shoulder. “Ugh.”
“What?” Áine asked. “Who are they?”
“Does it matter? Look at them. They’re drunk.”
“Drunk? It’s not even lunchtime.” Áine stared up the hill at the oncoming men, and sure enough, two of them were stumbling down the hill, coming straight toward them.
“Hey!” one of them yelled. The others laughed. “Good morning!”
Áine shot them a cold look and pulled up her hood. She grabbed Hennessy’s hand again and moved to walk around them, but one of them pushed a bottle toward her.
“Did you want take a little of the edge off? I’m sure that ferry ride was a little bumpy.” The other men snickered, and he shoved them away, then thrust the bottle back in her face.
“No thanks,” she replied, shifting her weight away from him. He grabbed for her sleeve, and she shrugged him off.
“What about you, beautiful?” One of the other men had come around the other side and was leering at Hennessy, a bottle in his hand. “I know a Galway girl when I see one.”
“And I know a Dublin wanker when I see one,” Hennessy said.
The rest of the men laughed, but the man turned a dark shade of red, and stepped closer to Hennessy.
“Leave us alone,” Áine said, locking eyes with the man.
She thought he would listen to her words, but they didn’t faze him—his face just darkened even more, and he turned back toward Hennessy.
“Come on...what’s one little drink gonna hurt?” he asked, shaking the bottle in Hennessy’s face.
Áine tried to figure out what to do, but everything was moving so fast, and she couldn’t focus. How could she get them to listen to her?
“Come on,” the man closest to Áine said, and then raised his eyebrows. “There’s plenty to go around.” He ripped her arm away from Hennessy and pulled her close. She could smell lightning on his hot breath.
“Gross,” Hennessy said, batting away the man next to her.
“Now that you mention it,” Áine said, taking a step closer, “I could use a drink.” She grabbed the bottle with one hand and pushed him away with the other. His eyes widened, and with a lurid smile, he swayed back and forth.
Áine took a long deep swig and almost gagged; it burned the back of her throat and made her eyes water. She coughed and tried to catch her breath. “What in the Caerning is that?” she asked, as she gestured Hennessy over, so the rock wall was no longer behind her.
One of the men blocked Hennessy’s path, shouldering up next to her. Hennessy shoved him away, but he kept his footing and replied, “Come on, you’ll want some of that, Galway Girl.”
“Not on my life,” Hennessy said. “I don’t touch the stuff.”
“You should. That’s Midleton. Finest whiskey in Ireland. Nothing but the best for Peter. We’re celebrating.”
“Oh really,” Áine replied, wiping her eyes and looking at the bottle in her hand. “What are you celebrating?”
“Peter’s getting married,” one of the other men replied. She turned back toward Peter, and he grinned.
“That’s right,” he said. “My last day of freedom. Then it’s over. Done.”
“Tomorrow’s the big day?” Áine asked.
“Yes ma’am,” Peter said. He winked at her, and then suddenly grabbed her arm. “You wouldn’t mind giving me one last kiss, would you? Before I’m gone forever?”
His fingers dug into her wrist as he pulled her to him. She stopped him short and held up the bottle. “One more sip first?”
The other men howled with laughter, but Peter nodded his head. “Sounds a fair trade,” he said, pulling her even closer.
She put up her hand and held him off, raising the bottle to her lips. The whiskey lit her tongue on fire. She glanced at Hennessy, whose pale skin had brightened to the color of blood.
“Now, how about that kiss,” Peter said.
As he leaned in to kiss her, Áine pulled back and sprayed the whiskey in his face, covering his eyes and mouth. He fell back, digging his fists in his eyes and howling.
“What the—”
The other man stopped mid-sentence as she slammed the bottle into his jaw. The force sent him flying into Peter, knocking them both down. Áine turned toward Hennessy, who was shoving the other drunken man off her.
Suddenly, Áine was hit from behind. She lost her footing and twisted as she fell. Peter fell on top of her and knocked the air out of her.
“You toothy witch,” he grunted. His eyes were dark and bloodshot, and blood dripped down his cheek as he forcefully pinned her left arm to her side; her right arm was trapped beneath her.
She struggled under him, looking everywhere for something to help focus the Eta. Her eyes settled on the rough stone wall.
> The words burst from her lips. “Escotú Eta!
The Eta pounded through her, and the stones exploded outward, knocking down Hennessy and her attacker in a cloud of dust. Peter still pinned her down, grinding her wrist into the rock soil.
“What just happened?” he screamed in her face and then stared at the pile of rocks. “Sean! Sean? Are you okay?”
Áine’s eyes darted everywhere, but she couldn’t see Hennessy, and she couldn’t lift her head to see where she had fallen. “Henness—”
He clamped his hand over her mouth. “You’re gonna pay for this. He better be fine.” He was so heavy. She kicked up her knee, but he forced it back down. “I’ll take that kiss,” he said.
“Kiss this,” Hennessy said, and her pointy black boot landed hard on his face. His body seized against Áine, then his eyes turned glassy, and he fell to the side.
“Let’s go,” Hennessy said, grabbing Áine’s hand and pulling her up.
Áine glanced at the other man, but he put up his hands in surrender, shaking his head violently. His friend had been thrown behind the rock wall. He lay on his back, wheezing and cursing.
“Good idea,” Áine said. She pulled her heavysack tight, and they ran up the hill. Hennessy struggled a bit, but Áine stayed right behind her and kept looking over her shoulder.
The men didn’t follow them, and once they made it over a few rock walls, they eventually slowed down. “How’d you do that?” Áine asked.
“I work in a pub,” Hennessy said. “Ryan always says when it comes down to it, you gotta just hit hard and ask questions later. I never had the nerve ‘til just now—when I thought he was going to hurt you. I wanted him to stop. I wanted to hurt him.” Hennessy’s face had gone pale, her lips bright red. “I couldn’t do it before. Couldn’t hit back. All those times Collum hit me. And then I go all out on some loser drunk. He probably has a concussion.”
“It’s okay,” Áine said, grasping Hennessy’s trembling hand. “He’ll be okay. And we’ll be okay too.” As Áine stared up the hill toward the rocky cliffs, she wondered if that was true. After everything that had happened, would they really be okay?
It wasn’t just those men. It was the fire. It was her mother. It was Ratrael. It was her life.
She took a deep breath and turned toward Hennessy. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”
Eight
“After that? God, this must be good. All right, lay it on me.”
“The Eta...did you see how I said those words and the stones exploded?”
“Yeah—you did something like that before.”
“Right. Well, it’s supposed to be easy. The Eta are just supposed to come when I call. But they don’t. Ever since I started having these dreams...it’s as if my dreams are disrupting the Eta—bending and tearing them. They’re powerful and out of control. I mean, I just meant to make one of those rocks fall down. Instead, the whole wall exploded.”
“I’m sure if you just keep—”
“But that’s not it,” Áine interrupted. “My mind. It’s slipping. The dreams—they started out frightening, but still nothing more than nightmares. But right before I left, they...they were more than dreams. They were everywhere. There was fire where there shouldn’t have been. And then my friend Ratrael...” Áine forced the words out of her mouth. “My dream, and the image of the flames—the fire—came to my mind, and I lost control.”
Ondine. It had all started with Ondine.
She had spent the day with Ciaran and Ratrael, swimming in the Caerning, trying to escape the naiad’s wet embraces.
Ratrael finally had to drag them out. “I know it’s hard for you to leave, Ciaran,” he said, using his cloak to wipe off the water running down his dark face. “Ondine is always pulling you under, grabbing at your arms and legs.”
Ciaran rolled his eyes and started walking down the path. “She does that to everyone. Seriously—she spent most of the day trying to pull Áine into the deeps.”
“And she couldn’t!” Áine said. “Not even once!”
“You know Ondine only has eyes for you, Ciaran,” Ratrael said. “And hands. And arms. And lips. Oberon, those lips. And those legs. And those breasts. I wish I were the water. You know, you should let her take you under sometime.”
“Not gonna happen,” Ciaran said, slapping at the willow branches dancing above his head.
“Why not?” Ratrael asked. “You’re crazy! She obviously wants you.”
“She’s just not my type.” Ciaran’s tone was icy, and the light shimmered dangerously around him.
Ratrael smirked. “What is your type then? Long auburn hair? Piercing lavender eyes? Wet dress?”
Ciaran grabbed Ratrael by his collar and suddenly hit him in the face, hard.
Áine gasped as he punched him again in the stomach. Before she could take another breath, they fell into the blackthorn thicket along the side of the path.
Ratrael quickly overpowered Ciaran; his bicep locked around Ciaran’s throat.
“Stop it!” Áine yelled. “You’re hurting him!”
“He started it,” Ratrael said. “Moody little bastard.”
Ciaran was turning blue, tears running down his face.
“Let him go!” she screamed. Anger rolled up inside her and heat pulsed from her hands to her feet. She tried to calm down, tried to break its hold, but the images of fire flashed in front of her eyes and all at once, it exploded out of her.
The thicket burst into flames around them in a flare of light and heat, and then began to scream. Áine collapsed to the ground, empty and cold. She wanted to fall asleep, to disappear. The sound of the blackthorn burning brought her back. When she raised her eyes, the thicket was a jumble of heat and smoke and flames.
She pulled herself up and ran down toward Ciaran and Ratrael, but the spiny branches of the blackthorn trees caught on her dress and pulled her down. She tried to pull her dress free, but the savage thorns just held on tighter.
Ratrael let go of Ciaran and started dragging him out of the thicket, still yelling at him. He grabbed Ciaran’s shirt and roughly threw him over the thicket and up toward the path. He landed beside Áine with a groan, coughing up smoke and spit as she dragged him onto the path.
Ratrael started to climb out of the ditch. “You little—” Suddenly, a tree trunk fell in front of him and burst into flames. He turned to go the other way, but he was trapped—the fire surrounded him.
When he turned back, Áine saw Ratrael’s face, and for the first time, she saw fear in his eyes. Fire was the one thing that could kill the fey—that could send them to the Hether. Already his hair was disappearing, and the flames were climbing up his cloak.
Áine grabbed the bottom of her dress and tore it free—the heat immediately bore down on her legs and thighs. She heard Ratrael scream—a piercing, chilling cry.
His arm, all the way up to his elbow, was simply gone. He fell to the ground and covered his head. Áine threw the fabric over the burning tree trunk and reached toward him. She grabbed his arm, and with a burst of unexpected strength, she dragged him up and out of the thicket. His boots caught on the branches, but with a ferocious wrenching, she pulled them free, and he landed next to her on the path.
But his arm. His arm was gone.
“Changeling!” he rasped. “Monster!”
Áine pushed back the burning memory, willing herself to just tell Hennessy what had happened. Not to relive it. She couldn’t stand to feel it again. The weeks of misery. The torture of seeing Ratrael every day as Aunt Eri hovered over him. Until one day, he just disappeared.
She focused on Hennessy’s eyes and forced herself to finish the story.
“Ratrael was horribly burned. And things spiraled out of control from there. Shadows walk beside me when I’m alone in the forest. My head is messing with my eyes. But it’s doing more than just playing tricks—it’s consuming me and changing the very essence of the Eta. They’re turning sinister and dark.” Áine shook her head and looked
out at the green hills and rocky walls. “These last few days in the Shadowlands are the first time I’ve been able to see clearly in months.”
Hennessy twisted her hair between her fingers, then nodded and tucked it behind her ear. “Maybe it’s not your mind, Áine.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know—it just seems like maybe...I don’t know...maybe the Eta were trying to get you here. Pushing you forward.” Hennessy sat on the low stone wall and pulled off her boot. She pounded it until a pebble fell out, and then put it back on. “Think about it. None of that weird stuff has happened since you got here, has it?”
Áine thought back over the last few days. “No. It hasn’t. I mean, I’ve called on the Eta, and they were wicked powerful, but they haven’t appeared when I didn’t want them to. And the fire at your house—it wasn’t my fault. Creed started it. And the shadows that I’ve seen, well, they’re actually here. They’re part of this world.”
“I think you’re supposed to be here,” Hennessy said. “And I think you weren’t disrupting the Eta in the Aetherlands—I think they were disrupting you, pulling you, drawing you to this side.”
Áine nodded slowly. The Eta had changed since she crossed over into the Shadowlands. She finally felt like she was in control of them—like they couldn’t hurt her anymore.
The heaviness in her stomach started to ease up. Maybe Hennessy was right. Maybe the Eta wanted her in the Shadowlands.
“I think they wanted you to find your way home.”
“Home. I don’t think I’ll find that here.”
Hennessy jumped up and grabbed her arm. “I know,” she said. “But if we actually get a move on, maybe we will find something.”
They walked up the path until they reached the outskirts of Baile An tSéipéil. The town was spread out along a long ridge. The few small cottages were separated by stone walls and bright green grass. They walked through the town, searching small lanes and looking around corners. When they arrived on the other side of town, Hennessy turned to Áine. “Anything?”