A Crack in Everything

by Ruth Frances Long

  And he’d done it to save Holly.

  From Izzy and her angel.

  The sickening horror of it clawed at the edges of his brain and by turns made him want to laugh and scream. Old instincts got the better of him and he couldn’t help it. He’d saved Holly when he should have let her die. He should have let her die a thousand times.

  Izzy bent over him, shaking him, shouting, but through the high-pitched whine in his mind he couldn’t hear her. It was the death howl, and though he knew the Cú Sídhe legend he’d only heard it once before. When one of his kin died … his father. He’d been too young to understand it then. And the others, Blythe’s pack, had gathered around him. They’d all heard it – Blythe and her kin, the pack he should have been a member of if Holly hadn’t demanded him. Like they’d all hear it now. They’d all know. They’d hear of his failure, his disgrace. They would hear his death. He only hoped they’d mourn him. Just a little.

  He could only hope.

  Izzy shook him hard, bringing his attention back to her again. He could see her saying his name, saw the shape it formed on her lips, almost a smile, but partly a grimace. She bore the pain and grief in a way worthy of her bloodlines. Bore it, but fought it and raged against it. He loved her rage, her refusal to accept the inevitable. Loved her stubborn, giving heart and the way she never seemed willing to accept her lot. She fought. He loved when she fought.

  She was a mistake, a flaw like him. A crack in the order of the world.

  Dying wasn’t so difficult after all. He’d always imagined he’d fight. But now, he slid softly towards the darkness, grateful for the peace.

  ‘No!’ Izzy said, her voice finally reaching him across the abyss like a song. ‘Come back to me. You have to. You can’t die. I won’t let you. Don’t leave me.’

  So sweet to hear her say it. She even sounded like she meant it. He wanted to tell her that she couldn’t order him about anymore. Not now. She’d gained that power by pulling the iron out of his body. By putting it back in, she’d broken the spell somehow. He didn’t know how it worked. But it did. He was free. Free of Izzy and free of Holly.

  Finally free, for the first time he could remember.

  Maybe dying was worth it after all.

  Then he heard howls, a chorus of howls.

  Something spoke to his hound-self from the recesses of his mind. It howled.

  Blythe.

  He opened his eyes to light. Light so bright it was like the end of the world. Or the end of his life.

  And again, not very far away, he heard howls. Not in his mind this time. But all around him. So many howls.

  Izzy jerked alert at the sound. Howls came from everywhere, all over the Market, and Holly screamed for her guards. Izzy didn’t care. It didn’t matter anymore. Sorath might be here to kill Holly, or she might just have taken the opportunity as it presented itself. None of it mattered. Not now.

  Panic engulfed the Market and Holly retreated. ‘This isn’t over! This will never be over, Sorath.’

  ‘Cousin’, she’d called the angel. The Sídhe had been angels once, wasn’t that the story? Family feuds really could last for eternity. So why did Izzy have to get caught up in it. Why did Jinx? It wasn’t fair.

  She pulled him closer, but he was limp in her arms. He was bleeding, bleeding far too much and she was still holding the knife that stabbed him. She couldn’t help him.

  ‘Sorath,’ she yelled. ‘Help me. Please, now. You’ve got to help me. How do I heal him? How do I—?’

  ‘Let me help you. Let me take care of it. I know what to do. Please, all you have to do is ask. Ask me in. Let go of your control, Isabel.’

  Holly’s guards circled her, weapons at the ready. It didn’t matter. Only Jinx mattered right now. Jinx and Dad. If she could help them …

  ‘All right. Help him and promise to help my dad. That’s all I want. Please.’

  ‘Done,’ said the angel and it sounded like a thunderclap.

  Light flooded the place, light so bright Izzy had to close her eyes. She bent over Jinx’s body, cradled him against her and prayed.

  With a thud, a Cú Sídhe landed between them and the approaching guards. Its tail lashed back and forth and it snarled, hackles rising like spines all down its massive back. Another flanked her, and then one on the other side, surrounding her, cutting her off.

  Protecting her. Protecting them both.

  Izzy felt the angel inside her growing in power, taking control, like sunrise inside her, burning her own will away like morning dew. She – or Sorath, it was hard to tell anymore – lifted her hand and pressed it to the wound. Power rose in her and it wasn’t like the time she’d pulled out the knife before. This was like a wave, crashing over her.

  Jinx jolted up in her arms as if electrocuted. He sucked in a breath and his back arched, every muscle turning to steel. His hand closed on her arm, fingers digging into her like bolts. She sobbed in relief and pain, but clung to him, unable to let him go. Not now. Not ever.

  ‘Let go,’ said the angel. ‘It’s time now. Let go.’ She tried to hold on. But she couldn’t. Control was slipping away fast. The angel was too strong. ‘We had a deal, Isabel.’

  Silver stepped up onto the dais, her bare feet silent, her movements elegant and beautiful. She glowed with energy, with light and power. The air trembled around her.

  ‘Silver, what do you think you’re doing?’ Holly snarled, advancing on her daughter, but retreated when the Cú Sídhe snapped at her.

  ‘What I should have done a long time ago, mother. You killed Belladonna, as surely as if you’d taken her life yourself. I swallowed that down, but I never forgave you. You killed her when you killed Jinx’s father, when you took Jinx. I’m setting him free. For her.’

  ‘You have no right.’

  The ground trembled. ‘No right? I’m your first daughter. That gives me every right. All the times I bowed to your will instead of my conscience.’

  ‘This isn’t possible. I broke you when I broke your tree.’

  Silver smiled, as chilling a smile as her mother’s. ‘Yes. Just like this.’

  She reached out her hand to the column of crystal rising from the ground to the ceiling, the crystal that captured all the light stolen from the mortal world and bounced down here. Holly’s crystal, Izzy realised. As powerful as Silver’s tree had been. Perhaps even more so.

  Silver touched a single fingertip to it and Holly screamed.

  For a moment nothing happened, just the scream that went on and on, drowning the noise of the rapidly evacuating Market, the stampede of fae-folk up the tunnel to the outside. And then the crack appeared, a hairline fracture deep inside the quartz, reaching for Silver’s finger with a sound like the demise of an iceberg. It spread, speeding through the crystal, branching out until it looked like skeletal leaves, racing through the stone.

  Holly choked and her voice died in her throat. Silver opened her mouth and a pure high note rang out. It rebounded off the bronze walls and ceiling far away, echoed back in abstract harmonies and the crystal trembled. When Silver stopped singing, the voice went on, amplified to dangerous proportions.

  ‘I found another source,’ Silver went on, ‘one more potent than any of us could have imagined. Will you?’

  The crystal shattered. Shards rained down on them like hailstones. Holly gave a sob and fell back, into the arms of her guards. Surrounded, safe, but broken, as surely as her crystal was broken.

  Silver shook her hand as if ridding it of something unpleasant. ‘Now we’re leaving. And you’ll let us go, or I’ll give Brí’s hounds leave to do as they will.’

  ‘Brí’s hounds? You brought Brí’s hounds here?’

  The nearest one shook its head and slid to Sídhe-form. Blythe stood there. ‘We came ourselves. We followed our brother and saw what you’ve done to him. Now we’ll take him home.’

  ‘Izzy?’ Jinx whispered, his voice wretched, his eyes searching her face. ‘Izzy, are you okay?’

  But she couldn’t an
swer him. She was just a spectator now. Sorath wasn’t finished with her. And she’d given her word to allow it. Her struggle to resist the inevitable, this delay, had only made the angel furious. But she couldn’t help it. She had to know Jinx was all right. She had to know that he was safe. Even as the flames boiled through her again, she kissed him. Kissed him and felt him kiss back, indulged in the wonder of that sensation, and felt herself bleed away, into the light, swallowed up by the being inside her.

  Her last thought was that at least she had felt that final kiss. At least she knew he lived. And that Silver and Blythe would make him free.

  That was enough. She could do no more. The angel took her.

  Dylan lurched against the wall as he tried to stand and struggled for breath. The rough stone dragged at his jacket and his stomach roiled inside him, cramps shaking him like a terrier with a rat. Sweat stood out on his forehead, pinpricks of ice.

  ‘Careful now, lad,’ said Mistle, his harsh voice grating against Dylan’s ears. ‘Don’t want to do yourself an injury now, do you?’ Laughter hung beneath the words like a stench. Unpleasant, mocking laughter, the kind that made him cringe inside, the kind that sapped the will to do anything more than curl up in the corner and die.

  What had Silver done to him?

  He tried again, pitching himself forwards so his legs had no choice but to keep up or let the rest of him fall. The edge of the cell door gave way to smooth bronze and he slid more comfortably now, his vision blurred and indistinct.

  Mistle’s hand came in to support him. ‘Steady. You don’t want to break the connection, not if she’s facing off against old Holly right now. She needs you calm. Think of the music, the songs you want to make up. Let it fill you.’

  And there is was – music. All around him, flowing through him, music that shivered across his skin and twined itself around each heartbeat. Music, the thought of which brought tears to his eyes and a smile to his lips. It had colours, shades and textures, layer upon layer of harmonies combined in a wondrous whole. He could feel each instrument, the way the angles and plains interlocked, the colours and shades merging in the glorious whole.

  His body ached for this music. He needed to capture it. He needed to cup it in his shaking hands and share it, let others know its wonder as he did. He needed—

  This was her promise, he realised as he forced himself onwards. And if he allowed it, he knew it would swallow him whole. Hearing this – feeling this – he’d never be the same. This was her promise and her curse, the reason one didn’t seek out a Leanán Sídhe and the same reason to think not twice but three times before kissing one. Before accepting any deals.

  Silver had tried to stop him. He sobbed, but in time and harmony with the melody of that marvellous music.

  Part of him wished he had listened. Because the music was almost too much. The prospect of trying to capture it daunted him. And thrilled him.

  Dylan’s consciousness reeled inside his skull.

  Silver appeared as if from nowhere and caught him before he could fall.

  ‘I’m here,’ she said, as if speaking to a child. ‘Shh, don’t be scared. I’m here.’

  She kissed him again and drew the music from him. The world shuddered back to normality. Weaker, drained but himself once more, the music fading to memory, a dream. Dylan drew in a breath and found every atom of his body transformed.

  ‘Silver, I … I heard … I saw …’ She rested her forehead to his, holding both his shoulders, and she stared deeply into his eyes, studying him as if she could see into his soul. Perhaps she could. He would put nothing past her.

  ‘I know,’ she said on a sigh heavy with regret. He could still feel it, the connection between them. Another kiss and it would reignite, he would hear that symphony again and be lost in it, in her. The music wasn’t gone and neither was she. A surge of relief swept through him, followed by one of fear, almost as powerful. He had agreed to this. To give up his life for the wonder of being with her, of hearing the music she heard. It had been his choice. It was terrifying, but glorious. Just like Silver. ‘But now, we have to go.’ She took his hand possessively, drawing him after her. ‘Stay with me, now. You can’t afford to get lost.’

  ‘Did you find them? Are they safe?’

  She stopped and looked back over her shoulder, impossibly beautiful but alien, impassive.

  He heard Jinx’s raised voice before Silver could answer. ‘Back to Brí’s domain, are you crazy?’

  ‘It’s the quickest way out of here,’ another woman replied, just as stridently. ‘Besides, I can offer safe passage.’ It was Blythe, he realised. But how was she here? Everything had changed while he’d been … what? Away with the fairies? Insane laughter bubbled up inside him.

  ‘For a price,’ Jinx growled. ‘The last price nearly killed Silver.’

  They stood at the mouth of the broad tunnel leading back to the gate to Smithfield and the human world. Dylan’s world, the one he desperately wanted to see again. The Market was deserted, stalls and goods scattered, the traders and buyers fled. There was no sign of Holly either. Nothing but an eerie silence. And still the Cú Sídhe argued.

  Izzy stood to one side, holding her arms tightly across her chest. Mistle hunkered down in front of her, his head bowed, breathing hard. Dylan couldn’t catch a word, but he was sure Izzy spoke to the fae. Not in English though. The language sounded so strange, lyric and unreal. Mistle’s eyes glowed with something like adoration. Weak though he felt, Dylan made straight for her. ‘Izzy, you okay?’

  Mistle shuffled back, muttering angrily to himself. Izzy stared at Dylan, as if trying to place him. Blood ran down her arm, her skin torn, her sleeve ragged. And she held a knife. It too was covered in blood. Then she glared past him at Jinx.

  She tightened her grip on the knife in a way that sent ice through Dylan’s veins. Then she seemed to see him for the first time and tucked the knife away behind her back. ‘You look like hell.’

  He caught her arm and pushed up the blood-sodden sleeve to examine her shredded skin. She didn’t even wince. ‘Not as bad as you.’

  Blythe and Jinx circled each other and the black dogs surrounding them cowered and snarled. Silver stepped into the middle of it, aglow with light.

  ‘Enough!’ Silver cried. ‘We don’t have time. We’ve just declared war and struck Holly hard. She won’t take long to regroup. And we cannot afford to be here when she does. Come with me.’

  Her voice shook them all into action. Before Dylan could shout a warning, Jinx took off after Mistle, the other hounds breaking into a run behind him, running for the sheer joy of it, until Blythe called them back, a curse underpinning every word she used.

  ‘You’re looking at her a lot,’ Silver teased, without any real malice. Amused desire coloured her voice.

  Yes, he’d been staring at Blythe. The naked woman with the exotic patterns marking her skin like pale scars.

  ‘There’s a … a lot of her to look at,’ Dylan replied as smoothly as he could.

  Silver smiled at him and it was a smile that chilled him to the core. It knew far too much. ‘Get Izzy out of here,’ she said. ‘She needs you. She’s been through a terrible ordeal. Go.’

  He nodded and caught Izzy’s uninjured arm. She didn’t fight him, didn’t argue.

  Like a sleepwalker she followed him, and together they ran from the Market while the hounds formed a line behind them, a retreat line of military precision, with Blythe holding the centre.

  The gate shimmered ahead of them, like a moonlit pool, capturing the light from the other side, natural and man-made. Distorted shapes moved beneath the surface, and the lights, so many lights swarmed across the surface. Too many. Dylan hesitated, but Izzy didn’t stop. He tried to pull back, tried to stop, but in the last moment her fingers dug into his arm and with inhuman strength, she dragged him after her.

  ‘They followed you,’ she hissed in a voice that wasn’t her own. ‘You idiot. They’ve been whispering to you all along, directing you and
tracking your every move. The angels planted a beacon in your brain and then just followed you right to us.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  A World Away From Help

  The air rushed over Jinx as he crossed the threshold of the gate in pursuit of Mistle. Fresh, cool and charged with ozone. He shuddered, shaking off the transference, and the silver carriages of a Luas tram slid along the bottom of the square, cut by the intervening trees and then swallowed up behind buildings. It was a momentary distraction, but he cursed it as all around him, host upon host of slender, beautiful figures closed in. Angels. Everywhere. All their attention was fixed on the gate, on the girl just now emerging with Dylan at her side. On Izzy.

  With a brief intake of breath, Jinx tried to fall back, to put himself between her and them.

  Mistle barrelled into him, pinning him down. The old fae brought a knee up into Jinx’s stomach and with surprising strength, wrapped his hands around Jinx’s throat.

  ‘You should have died. You should have died.’ Spit speckled Jinx’s face. ‘I took care of her father, just like she told me. And I’ll deal with his wife too, if she gets in the way. I didn’t kill him but I could have. I could have. For my angel. The Grigori do nothing for us, nothing at all. They’ve abandoned us all. Why should we protect them and hold them inviolate? Sorath’s need is greater. She is greater. Brí isn’t enough to hold the girl here. If you’d only died there’d be nothing to hold her here at all.’

  The grip tightened, closing off his airway. Jinx twisted, marshalled his strength and flipped Mistle to one side. They landed heavily and even as Jinx tried to right himself, Mistle was on him again.

  Three blows, face, stomach, face again and Mistle went down snarling and spitting, crawling across the paving stones towards Izzy.

  ‘Izzy!’ Jinx yelled, scrambling up from the ground and trying to reach her before the angels. They’d take her and tear her to shreds in order to get to Sorath. They’d destroy her to take back the spark. ‘Get back, get inside. Run!’