by Kate Ristau
None of it made any sense, but she immediately felt safe. The woman pulled her up and touched her face, and then her shoulder. The pain lessened, and then disappeared.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Eri,” the woman said, her voice almost drowned out by the crying baby.
“Are you one of the Good People?”
Eri smiled and nodded her head. She touched the baby’s hand and the baby quieted immediately. “I’ve come to take you and your sister home.”
“And ma?”
Her eyes turned sad. “Yes, and your ma. But first we need to get you and Áine out of the cold.”
For a moment, she wondered how Eri knew her sister’s name. Then the thought disappeared. They would be safe. She would be safe.
Eri reached out her hands and took the crying baby from her arms. Some part of her mind told her to wait. To not let her sister go. But the feel of the woman, her warm hands and the way Áine immediately stopped crying—she knew she was making the right choice.
Eri reached down for her hand.
She reached up to her, then stopped before their fingers touched.
“Not yet,” she said. “Not without ma. I’ll go get her.”
Eri held up one finger. “Wait. I’ll bring Áine across, then I’ll come back for you, and we’ll go get your ma. Please. It’s not safe. Just wait for me, and I’ll bring you across. And your ma. Just wait for me here.”
Eri touched her face, and she suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore. She felt warm, and full, and safe. And loved.
Eri’s hand lingered on her cheek as she whispered, “Until then, let the light of the Eta shine within you. Let them keep you safe.”
The girl felt a burst of warmth run through her, and the light shined around Eri as she lifted her fingers toward the tree. In a flash, she was gone.
And the forest was dark.
The little girl waited. And waited. Hours passed. She fell asleep huddled against the tree trunk. When the morning light broke through the trees, she shook her head in frustration. She spent the day searching for mushrooms and nuts on the forest floor. As the evening light faded, tears ran down her face.
“She’s not coming back for me.” Her voice fell, lifeless against the trunk of the tree where her sister had been taken. She had never felt so alone.
Maybe she had just missed her? Maybe Eri had gone back to her mother?
The shadows grew deeper as she ran back to her cottage, to her mother, to the madness.
But at least Áine had escaped. At least she was safe.
What would she do if Eri wasn’t at their cottage? How would she ever make it right?
Soon. Da would be home soon. And he’d make Ma okay. She’d be all right. They’d all be all right.
She almost believed it.
Then she heard the screams.
* * *
“Áine?”
Her head pounded, and she turned her face to the side, feeling a coolness on her cheek. She opened her eyes and saw Hennessy staring down at her. Several other worried faces floated above her.
Áine bolted upright, then regretted it as her head pulsed with a painful, blinding light. She squeezed her eyes shut.
When she opened them again, Hennessy was still there. “You okay?”
“Fine. I’m fine.”
“You should get her some water,” said an elderly woman. “Get her feet up.”
“No, she needs to lay back down,” an old man insisted.
“Ladies, gentlemen, please. She’s fine,” Hennessy told them.
“She don’t look fine,” one woman said. “She’s white as a ghost.”
“Or a banshee,” the old man said.
“Daniel!” one of the women said. “That’s not a nice thing to say at all!” She patted Áine’s shoulder. “You just look a little peaked, that’s all. Why don’t you sit down over here and put your feet up?”
Hennessy pulled her onto the bench, taking an offered cup of water, but shooing the rest of the people away. “Give her a little space so she can catch her breath.”
They backed away, but not too far. Áine could still see their worried looks and backward glances. Her head pounded and the water felt cool on her parched throat.
Hennessy slid down beside her. “What happened? I woke up, and you were passed out on the deck. We had to drag you back in here.”
“It’s never been that bad. Usually I just have those dreams at night. And usually it’s the same one. But this time was different. It was Keva.” That tiny girl clutching that warm blanket. Her sister.
“Hennessy, it finally makes sense. My dreams—they’re not my past. They’re not even my memories. They’re hers! I don’t know how, but everything—everything I’ve dreamed of—it’s been through her eyes.”
“Through Keva’s eyes? Your sister? God, can you even imagine? To have to see that? I mean—I know you dreamed about it, but she was just a little girl. And with everything she saw, I mean, no wonder she went crazy.”
“But there’s more, Hennessy. That night—she did it. She was the one who saved me. My ma—she put me out in the cold—just left me there. And Keva came back for me. Carried me in her tiny arms—and she gave me to Aunt Eri. She rescued me.”
A flash of anger flared in her mind. Aunt Eri said she would go back for Keva. Said she would save her. Said she would save her mother too. Keva had been filled with hope. Why did Aunt Eri leave them to the fire? Why did she never come back for Keva? All these years, suffering in the Shadowlands. Lost in her madness...
Áine didn’t even need to say it aloud. Hennessy knew. “Why didn’t she save Keva too?”
A burning, deep in her stomach. “I don’t know. She took me. And she said she’d come back for Keva. But even after all these years...she never came back.”
A loud horn blasted through the ship, and the captain announced their arrival. Áine winced, pulling her heavysack slowly over her shoulder, and stood up slowly. Her vision blurred, and she closed her eyes as Hennessy pulled her back down.
“Take it slow. You’re not ready yet.”
She squeezed Hennessy’s hand and opened her eyes. “I have to be.” The second time she stood up, her vision wavered, but she stayed standing. “They’ll be waiting for us,” Áine said. “And so will the shadows, the fire, and the flames.”
“God, you’re creepy sometimes, you know that? I mean, you could just say something like, ‘You know, Creed and whatever.’ You have to go all Omen on me.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Obviously.”
Áine shook her head, trying to follow what Hennessy was saying. “Are you ready?”
“As much as I’ll ever be. What’s the plan?”
“Me in front. You behind. We’ll try and blend in with a group of people as we get off the boat. But stay out of the open. Go for the car, but don’t run straight there. They’ll expect it. And get your keys out.”
“You forgot something,” Hennessy said.
“What?”
“Don’t die.”
Áine smirked. “I thought that was a given.”
They fell in with the group of old people and filed off the boat. Áine was so busy watching the docks that she jumped in surprise when the women next to her started talking.
“You feeling better, dearie?” one woman asked.
“That was quite the tumble,” the other woman insisted.
“Thank Oberon, I’m fine,” Áine said.
“Thank who?” the old man asked.
“You,” Áine said, blushing. “You were all so helpful.”
One of the women patted Áine’s hand. “It was no problem. Make sure you get some rest tonight.”
“And water,” the man said. “Drink lots of water.”
Áine was having a hard time breaking away from the group, but Hennessy helped. She sprinted away, running down the pier.
“I better catch up!” Áine said as she ran after Hennessy. “Thanks for the help
!”
They reached the car in no time, and Hennessy jumped into the driver’s seat. She slammed her door closed while Áine slid in beside her. They started the car and raced out of the parking lot.
“Huh,” Hennessy said as they sped up along the narrow road. “Lucky, I guess. They must still be back on the island.”
“But we know they didn’t take the ferry over there.”
“Shoot. Yeah. They must have their own boat. Which means they’re not stuck there. They could be anywhere by now.”
Where would Creed go? What was his next step? Áine’s mind immediately turned to Keva. “Do you think he knows about Keva?”
Hennessy shrugged and turned the wheel, steering them out toward the open road. “Maybe. I don’t know. At least we have a head start.”
Áine thought of her father. How he had stayed to face Creed. Just so they could get a head start. She let her head fall into her lap. “A head start,” she said. “That’s all it was. We left him there. To die. For a head start.”
“Áine, you know that’s not all of it. He wanted to fight. Wanted to stand up to Creed.”
“And we didn’t!” Áine said. “We didn’t stand up! We just nodded our heads, didn’t argue, and ran away. Left him behind. Left him to die.”
“We left him to fight, Áine. He made that choice. Don’t act like we sent him to die.”
“But he—”
“And don’t cheapen it,” Hennessy interrupted. “He wanted to fight for you. Wanted to save you. And he thought he could. At least he stopped Creed.”
“Leaving us nine more angry Guardians.”
“God, you are so moody. Knock it off. I get it. You’re angry. You’re sad. And you have a right to be. But...just don’t let it be for nothing, okay?”
Áine opened her mouth, then closed it again. Maybe Hennessy was actually right. Yes, he didn’t save them. But he died trying.
For a few moments, her words failed her, until she whispered, “I won’t run away again the next time we see them. I want this to end. I want to fight.”
Hennessy nodded and smiled at her. “Trust me, girl, so do I. But we don’t always get what we want. If we did, I’d be Katy Perry and Barack Obama would be my husband.”
She laughed, and Áine did too, though she had no idea again what Hennessy was talking about.
“Let’s find your sister,” Hennessy said. “Then let’s get you home.”
“That sounds—”
Suddenly, she was thrown to the side, her head slammed against the door, and her seatbelt knocked the air out of her. Her eyes spun around the car. It turned—rolled—slammed to a stop, and the windshield smashed inward, spraying glass and metal.
For a moment, she couldn’t move. Then the air rushed into her lungs, and she ripped her seatbelt free. She rubbed her hand across her eyes and looked up. The car was flipped over on its side; her window looked out into the open air. “We have to get out before—”
Everything stopped when she turned toward Hennessy.
Her head was cocked to the side and slumped against the steering wheel. Blood poured from her mouth and nose. Her eyes were glassy.
“No!” Áine screamed. “No! Not you! Not now!” She kicked at the door until it flew off its hinges. She pulled on Hennessy’s seatbelt, but couldn’t get it free. She looked around the car for something—anything—to cut it loose. She grabbed a piece of glass in her cloak. Clenching her teeth, she cut through the thick fabric, hoping maybe, just this once, the Eta would listen to her the first time she called.
She had never healed anyone else before. That was Aunt Eri’s job. Eri was the healer. The powerful one. Áine didn’t even know if she could heal Hennessy. The Eta might be too weak inside her.
There was only one way to find out. She held Hennessy’s face in her hands, and willed her to breathe. Willed the life back into her. Begged the Eta to listen.
When she was as focused as she could be, she said the words Eri had whispered to Ratrael, “Esone Eta. Alomete ashan. Eta, palé, palé.”
The light shimmered around her, and Áine felt the Eta stir. They glimmered in the air, broke through the shadows in the car, and lit up the dark places.
But nothing changed. Hennessy remained limp in Áine’s arms. It wasn’t enough. Hennessy was too human. Áine pounded her fist on the car seat, then stopped. The Eta weren’t strong enough inside of Hennessy, but...
Aunt Eri had warned her again and again to not draw from her own Eta. Said it would kill her. Said she would pass into the Hetherlands.
But Aunt Eri had lied about a lot of things. And Áine didn’t have any other choice.
She focused on what she wanted to do. Thought about how the Eta would shimmer and shine and slip from her body to slide into Hennessy’s, healing her, awakening her. She tried not to focus on what side effects she might experience herself. She needed to help her friend.
“Eta, sema. Sanema. Sema, a ki.”
The Eta rushed out of her and settled around Hennessy’s head and stomach. Áine felt like she was being wrung out, like someone was stealing her very essence—her soul—from her. Like she was dying, inch by painful inch. Her vision blurred, and her breathing slowed. When she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, when she thought she might pass out, she choked out, “Ena.”
And it was done. That was all she could give. If Hennessy didn’t wake up, she was really gone. Áine ran her hand across Hennessy’s hot, burning forehead. When her eyes shot open, Áine laughed and pulled her into a hug.
“What happened?” Hennessy asked. “I—I was leaving. I was passing into the light. Nana was there. She was waiting for me.”
Áine smiled. “She’s still waiting for you. But you’re not ready to go. Not yet.”
Hennessy looked up at her with blank, empty eyes, like what she was saying didn’t make sense.
“I brought you back,” Áine said.
Hennessy’s eyes slowly darkened. “Why?”
Áine didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say. It would have to wait. “We have to go,” she said instead. “We’ve been in a crash. And I don’t know who’s out there. I need you here with me. Do you think you can walk? How do you feel?”
“I feel—” Hennessy paused and then said, “God, I feel amazing. Like I could run. For days. Jesus, Áine, what did you give me?”
“No time to explain. Let’s get out of here.”
Áine reached up and tried to pull herself out onto the side of the car, but her arms were too weak. Hennessy gave her a boost, and Áine wrenched up onto the side of the car, then reached in to offer Hennessy her hand. Hennessy grabbed a hold of the doorframe instead and easily pulled herself onto the car.
Áine took a shallow breath. It fell through her like a stone. She had given too much away. She felt so empty. So hollow. And the Eta would never come back to her. They would stay with Hennessy. And she would be alone.
No. Not alone. Someone was right behind them.
“Alasté Eta!” she screamed. But the words fell flat.
“You gave her some of your Eta.” Creed walked toward her, his hands glowing and his hood pushed back to reveal his face, newly burned and blistering. His voice reverberated through her. “Eri would just die. She hates it when people give away their Eta. Weaken themselves. Oberon, who knows what she would say to you now.”
Áine pushed the thought aside and focused around her, whispering to the Eta that dwelled in the trees, “Alasté Eta.”
Creed laughed, but she did not look at him. “She taught you the Aethernoe too. Of course she did. Even though the Queene forbids it. Eri never really learned her place, did she?”
Áine focused on the feeling of the Eta in the trees as she slowly climbed down from the car; she could hear Hennessy sliding down behind her. The tall pine trees behind Creed were old and full of life. The road was like a deep gouge in the forest, but the trees held their ground. She could feel the Eta within them. Why weren’t they listening?
As if h
e heard her, Creed laughed again. “Oh, Shadowgirl. She taught you the words, but she never taught you how to protect yourself. Typical Eri. Always hoarding the power for herself. Let me give you a quick lesson. You see, if you can call to the Eta, you can also find them. And hold them back.” He held up his fist. “Or push them forward.”
He pointed at Hennessy, and she jolted forward, falling to the ground and smashing her face against a rock.
“That girl has a lot more Eta now. That will make all this so much more fun.”
Áine ran over to Hennessy and pulled her up to sitting.
Hennessy didn’t look dazed. She looked angry. She pointed at his peeling face and smiled. “I see you didn’t get off so easy,” she said. “I really have to tell you, scabby skin is really not a good look on you.”
“It’ll heal,” he said. “And if it doesn’t, well, sometimes we have to find beauty in our scars.” He grinned at Áine. “I learned that from your sister.”
Áine’s stomach rolled. Creed knew her sister. “How do you know her?”
“As if life was that generous. Stupid girl. I won’t give you that knowledge, that satisfaction. That’s not how this works.” A flame leapt across his knuckles and settled on the tip of his finger. He pointed it at Hennessy. “You have something that does not belong to you. I want that Eta back.”
Hennessy stood up and wiped the dirt from her pants. “Fair enough, you worthless pile of trash.” Áine grabbed for her hand, but she pulled away. What was she doing? “But seriously. Are any of those other Guardians around? Like any hotter ones? I don’t want your face to be the last one I see. No offense.” Behind her back, Hennessy gestured toward the forest. “Actually, I take that back. I want to be offensive. You look gross.”
She suddenly understood Hennessy’s plan.
“Are you finished?” Creed asked. “Because I—”
“Alasté Eta!” Áine screamed. A tree root burst up from the ground beneath Creed and hurtled him into his car, breaking the window and denting the door with the force of the blow. He shook his head, turning to see Áine rising into the air, wrapped in tree limbs, broken concrete piled around her feet.