Shadow Girl

by Kate Ristau

  But then he was gone, burned away before her eyes in a shower of flames. She whimpered, and then her voice rose to a scream as she felt the fire tearing away at her flesh.

  Fourteen

  “Áine. Áine, wake up.” Hennessy stared down at her from the open car door. “You good?”

  “Fine,” Áine said. “Where are we?”

  “Pub. Ballyboden. I didn’t want to wake you up, but you were screaming pretty loud. It was getting awkward.”

  Áine rubbed the back of her neck and shifted up. “Where’s Ciaran?”

  Hennessy slipped in next to her and closed the door. “He ran in to use the restroom. Why were you screaming?”

  “Keva.” Áine thought of the padded room and the fabric ties, and she rubbed at her wrists.

  “What happened?” Hennessy asked.

  “She wasn’t a kid anymore. She was older. Tied to the bed in some weird white room.”

  “Maybe Dublin Central? Like your da said?”

  “I think so. Creed...he was there. He put a spell on her. That’s why my father thought she was crazy.”

  “Maybe she is now. I mean, she’s spent all those years there, locked up, people thinking she’s nuts. She must really be a mentaller now.”

  “No, she’s okay. I can tell. She just can’t break away from the spell.”

  “Áine, if he did that to Keva...and, I mean, with what your da said...do you think he did it to your mam too?”

  Suddenly, everything started to make sense. Her mother’s madness. Thinking Áine had been turned into a changeling. It was all a spell. Áine tried to figure out what that would mean. “But why did he do that to my mother? And to Keva?”

  “And what the hell is wrong with him?” Hennessy asked. “I’m not kidding, Áine. He should be locked up. Not her.”

  “I don’t understand—”

  “The next time I see him, I don’t care what kind of magic he’s using. I’m gonna rip his face off.” There was nothing funny in Hennessy’s words. She was full of intensity and anger, her eyes wide and her teeth clenched. “Who does he think he is?” she said. “He has no right to hurt them—to take away their lives, their joy. To sentence them to that. And me—” Her voice broke, and she pounded the car door with her fist.

  A man sitting outside the pub raised his head and stared at her, and Hennessy raised her middle finger back at him. “Feck off!” she yelled out the door. He rolled his eyes and went back to his drink.

  “Hennessy, I’m sorry Creed...did that. It was terrible. And I’m sorry I brought you back here.”

  “Don’t.” She waved Áine away with her hand. “We already went through this.”

  “Yes, but we didn’t finish. Just let me say something. I didn’t think about how it would hurt you. Or what I was taking you away from. It was selfish. I didn’t want to lose you.”

  “I know—”

  “Please! Just let me finish. I know it hasn’t been that long, but the thought of losing you...it scares me.” She grabbed Hennessy’s hand. “And you’re scaring me even more when you talk about fighting him. Hennessy, this is what he does. He fights people. He kills people. He’s trained to do it. So if it comes down to it, please—don’t stand up to him. Run. Just run. I’ll do whatever I can. I’ll fight him off. I won’t let him hurt you.”

  Hennessy cocked her head to the side and smirked. “You know, you could have just said ‘I like you.’“

  Áine sighed in exasperation, but before she could say another word, Hennessy’s mouth was on hers. Her mind reeled at the sweetness, the yearning, in that touch. She gasped as Hennessy’s tongue teased open her lips and slid inside her mouth—she tasted like summer and home and a million perfect things. Áine’s thoughts disappeared, washed over by the desire pulsing inside of her. Her arms wrapped around Hennessy’s neck and pulled her in, and her hands ran through her hair, along her face, and down her hips, tracing a path of desperate desire. Her skin was hot and the barest touch left her screaming, aching for more. Áine pulled Hennessy closer.

  “What in the Hether?”

  Ciaran’s voice shattered Áine’s hunger in an instant. She pulled away from Hennessy, feeling the color drain from her face, and looked up at Ciaran. His face was ash. She opened her mouth to explain, but the words wouldn’t come.

  “Ciaran,” Hennessy acknowledged, then settled back in her seat.

  The shock disappeared from Ciaran’s face, replaced with blistering anger. “So, that’s what this is,” Ciaran said.

  Hennessy rolled her eyes.

  “Ciaran,” Áine said. “It’s not what you think—”

  “Really, Áine? Because I think it’s pretty clear what’s going on. She’s ‘helping’ you, right?” Ciaran turned toward Hennessy, a strange look in his eyes. “You’re doing a real good job of it too.”

  Hennessy pushed the door all the way open, knocking Ciaran back as she moved to step outside, but Áine grabbed her arm and said to Ciaran, “Just calm down.”

  “No, Áine,” he said. “I won’t calm down. I don’t need to calm down. You know what? Never mind. Forget everything I said. I need to leave. I came here to help you, and you don’t seem to need it.”

  “Ciaran, I need you—”

  “No, you don’t. I’m pretty sure she’s got you covered.” He threw a cold look at Hennessy, and then whipped back around and walked away, yelling, “I’m going home.”

  Áine pulled off her seatbelt and called after him, “Ciaran!”

  Hennessy grabbed her arm. “Just let him leave,” she said. “We don’t need him.”

  Áine shrugged her off as she opened her own door. “That’s not how this works. He’s my friend, Hennessy. I don’t just let my friends walk away, even if it would make my life a Hether of a lot easier. He needs my help too.”

  “I can’t believe that’s all you think I am,” Hennessy said. “Your friend. A charity case. Another Shadow who needs your help.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Áine said, trying to figure out how the conversation had turned around on her. She wanted to make it right, but she couldn’t let Ciaran go. He was walking down the street, headed for the treeline.

  “Go get him,” Hennessy said.

  Her hollow voice made Áine’s stomach crawl, but she shrugged it off. She couldn’t lose Ciaran. Not here, and not now. She needed him too much.

  She ran down the street as fast as she could. “Ciaran!” she yelled. “Please! Wait!”

  He looked back at her, his eyes reflecting the cold stare that Hennessy had given her just moments before. He said nothing in response—he just turned around and kept walking. She caught up with him and grabbed a hold of his arm. He shook her off.

  “Leave me alone,” he said, walking even faster.

  “No,” she said, yanking on his arm, trying to make him stop.

  “Áine,” he said. “Let go.”

  “You can’t make me,” she said.

  He laughed suddenly. “You are so frustrating,” he said.

  “I know. I am.” She grasped his hand, forcing him to look at her. “But you can’t leave. Not now. I need your help to finish this.”

  He tore his hand away from hers. “Of course. You need my help. To finish this. Silly me, I thought maybe you just needed me.”

  “I do need you, Ciaran. I always have.”

  “It doesn’t seem like you need me.”

  She wished that there were some way to tell him how much he meant to her. How safe he made her feel. All her words just seemed to ring flat. Still, she kept trying. “I need your smile, the way you laugh, the way you make me feel like everything’s okay.”

  “It seems like you’re doing just fine without me.”

  “Do you even know what I’ve been through these past few days? How hard it’s been?” Ciaran’s face flushed, and she went on, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you feel guilty. That’s not the point. But these last couple of days have been some of the darkest, scariest times of my life. I had no idea
how everything was going to turn out.

  “But the second I saw you, when you pulled up in the car beside me, I knew everything would be better. I knew I would be home soon. You make me feel like that.”

  Ciaran squeezed Áine’s hand and let it fall between them. “You make me feel that way too. And that’s why I can’t stay. I can’t watch you get sucked in by her, with her, well, her ridiculously human, and eminently dangerous ways.” Ciaran laughed quietly. “You know, the whole Shadow thing.”

  “You sound jealous.”

  The smile slipped away from Ciaran’s face. “I am. I’ve told you before—”

  “I know.”

  “And I can’t just stand by and watch this, Áine. She’s not right for you. She’s different than us.”

  “She is,” Áine insisted, smirking. “She’s a Shadow.”

  “Come on, Áine. Be serious.”

  “I am,” she replied, her tone darkening. “She’s different. Cra, Ciaran! Of all people, I can’t believe that would matter to you.”

  “Áine, you’ve heard what Aunt Eri says about the Shadows. They’re greedy, selfish. They’ll stab you in the back.”

  “And you know what the Shadows say about the fey? We’ll enchant them all, make them dance and party until they die.” She pointed toward the car. “She’s not dancing.”

  “But how do we know she isn’t up to something? She was so quick to leave her family—”

  “Don’t you dare judge her!” Áine said, feeling the heat rise in her face. “You have no idea what she’s been through!”

  “And neither do you!”

  Their anger hung in the air between them. They stared at each other for a long moment, until Ciaran suddenly broke away, staring at the car. “Why is she here, Áine? What’s keeping her?”

  Áine didn’t answer. She knew what he meant, but she had no idea what Hennessy really wanted.

  “What’s happening between you two?” Ciaran asked, his voice strangely quiet.

  Áine sighed. “I don’t know. And I don’t want to worry about all that right now.”

  “But something’s there.”

  “Yes.”

  “And there’s something between us too,” Ciaran said.

  Áine looked up into his eyes. His face was so familiar, so safe. She wanted to pull him in, to hold onto him. But she also felt something else—someone else—pulling at her too.

  “There is,” she said. “That hasn’t changed.”

  Ciaran’s eyes brightened, but Áine held up her hand. “But I don’t want anything else, Ciaran. Not right now. I want to get Keva. I want to go home.”

  Áine wasn’t just trying to convince Ciaran; she was also trying to convince herself. She couldn’t be falling for Hennessy. It had only been two days. Two stressed out, life-changing, crazy days.

  Áine sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. Ciaran was right. She barely knew Hennessy. Sure, there was something more there, but what? Nothing that would last. Nothing real.

  “You certainly seemed to be interested in her...” Ciaran trailed off as he looked back at the car.

  “Ciaran, just let it go,” Áine snapped. “It was a slip—a mistake. It just happened. And I don’t regret it. I liked it.” Her lips were still swollen from Hennessy’s kisses, and deep inside, she wished she was back in her arms. But that was desire. Nothing more. Áine pressed on. “It was a kiss. Not a handfasting. I don’t want to be with her. And, in the long run, she probably doesn’t want to be with me either. So please, let’s just let it go and get past this. We’ve got a lot bigger things to worry about.”

  Ciaran turned toward Áine with a look she had seen only one other time before—the day he had stepped into Aunt Eri’s house. Devastation. Loss. And something else she couldn’t put her finger on. A pang of regret flashed through her stomach for how she had treated him, but she also couldn’t stand how he refused to let it go, refused to let her make her own choices. This was exactly why she had told him he couldn’t come with her to the Shadowlands.

  “Áine, you don’t get it. This is the big thing,” he said, grasping her hand in his. “We can’t act like what we’re doing doesn’t matter, or behave like what we do doesn’t change us in the long run. It does. Every decision we make, every hand we choose to hold, changes the future.” He squeezed her hand tightly. “It changes who we are. We can’t just let it go. You need to remember that.”

  Áine pulled her hand away and clenched her fists tightly. “Stop telling me what to do! You have no idea what I’ve been through, or what I’m feeling. You’ve never felt what I’ve felt—the loss—the pain—or the desire—how two people can lose control in each other’s arms. You don’t understand how that can make you feel.”

  “You’re right. I haven’t.” Ciaran stared past her, his hands dropping down to his sides. “I’ve never had my love returned.”

  Áine’s hand flew to her chest and her mouth fell open as he said those words. Love. He said he loved her.

  She couldn’t even begin to sort through how that made her feel. Understanding, tenderness, anger, frustration—all her feelings collided into one big ball of confusion. She had no idea what to say to him. She finally gathered up the scattered pieces of herself and whispered one true thing, “You will. One day, you will.”

  Ciaran sighed, and she watched as the raw emotions disappeared from his face. “All right,” he said. “Whatever. I’ll stay. But you’ve got to promise me you’ll keep your hands off idiot girl.”

  Áine smiled, thinking that would be best for everyone involved anyway. “Fine, but you have to be nice to her.”

  “Oh, come on. Let’s at least be realistic here. How about civil?”

  “Okay,” Áine replied. “Civil.”

  “Agreed. As long as she doesn’t start getting all up on you again. Then the agreement is off.”

  “Shut up,” Áine replied, punching his shoulder. But she couldn’t help thinking how she wouldn’t mind feeling Hennessy’s lips again, her hands pulling her close. She pushed it to the back of her mind, annoyed at how easily she had lost her focus again when she needed to keep her head on straight.

  “Thank you, Ciaran,” she said. “For coming. For knowing I needed you. And, you know, for always being there.” She reached over and pulled him close, hugging him tightly.

  “I’ll always be here,” he said. Her cloak muffled his voice, but she could still hear it crack. She hugged him a little tighter.

  She pulled away first, his hands lingering around her shoulders. Then they walked silently toward the car. It was empty.

  “Hennessy must be inside,” Áine said. “You coming?”

  “No thanks. I think I’ll just wait out here.”

  Áine caught his eyes. “Promise you’re not going to leave?”

  Ciaran threw up his arms in frustration. “Seriously, Áine. What have we just been talking about?” He stopped yelling when he caught her smile.

  “Just kidding,” she said. “I’ll go get her.”

  Fifteen

  Áine pulled her cloak around her and walked quickly toward the pub. She didn’t want to waste any more time. She pulled the door open and searched the bar for Hennessy. She found her sitting at the end, with six small glasses in front of her.

  “What are you doing?” Áine asked, pointing at the glasses.

  “Drinking,” Hennessy said.

  “You said you never drink. Come on, we need to get out of here.”

  “You do,” Hennessy said, rolling her eyes. “Not me. I’m done. I’m staying here. I’m getting drunk, and I’m hitchhiking home.”

  Áine didn’t know what that was, but Hennessy’s tone was clear as she downed another glass. “Hennessy, we don’t have time for this—”

  “You don’t have time for this. I have all the time in the world.” She waved the glass through the air and then pounded it on the counter. “I lost my house. And I’m pretty sure I lost my job after not showing up tonight. Oh, and I lost my life. I died. Li
terally. And now, I officially have nowhere to go and nothing to do. So—I’m drinking.” She gestured at the bartender for another glass. He looked at her warily, but brought the bottle toward her anyway.

  Áine shook her head and glared at him. He backed away slowly.

  “Come on!” Hennessy yelled. “You can’t leave me here sober!” She grabbed one of the empty glasses and shook the last drops into her mouth.

  “We’re not leaving you. I’m not leaving you. You’re coming with us.”

  “I’ll just get in the way,” Hennessy said, slamming the glass back down. “Or worse yet—I’ll get myself killed. Again.” Hennessy laughed and pulled out her phone. “It’s one in the morning. Maybe Tom will come pick me up.”

  “It’s your choice, Hennessy. If you want to stay, stay. But if that’s what you decide, we’re staying with you.” Áine sat down in the chair next to her.

  Hennessy looked at her with exasperation. “Not even! You have to go get to your sister. And Creed’s chasing you guys. If you stay...he’s gonna find you.”

  “If we leave you here, he’s gonna find you, Hennessy.”

  “Damn it, I’m trying to make this easy. Why can’t you just let me go?”

  “Sorry. We’re all in this now. Whether you want to be or not.”

  “God, Áine. That’s not it, and you know it. Girl, you know I want to go with you.” Hennessy shoved her phone in her pocket and stared at the door. “But I thought about it, and it totally sucks, but you were right.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Me. I’m a charity case. Just getting in the way. Slowing you down. Making it easier for him to attack you.”

  “Shut up, Hennessy. I never said that. And you’re not. You already saved my life so many times. You’re not getting in the way.”

  “Thanks, but—”