by J. Kowallis
I purse my lips. “Well, you have to understand,” I say, stuffing the phone in my bag, “he’s claiming he’s got the memories from my timeline. He says he remembers Michael beating on him. Murdering your mom. Even Ruhmactír wouldn’t remember your parents the way you do. After all, it was his brother, Frec, who possessed Michael and did all those things. Ruhmactír’s just playing into the things he remembers about Coll. Nothing more.”
Sera nods. “Tell me again. How did yeh leave things after he
. . . yeh know?”
I suck on my teeth and start pushing back my cuticles with my thumb nail. I didn’t think I’d need to rehearse this again for a third time in only forty-eight hours, so I speed through it. “I pierced him with a lightning bolt. Then, chewed him out and left. Told him he was a bastard or something like that. Just anything I could possibly say to,” my voice breaks, “get out of there faster.”
“Then yeh need to say the same thing.”
“What?” I ask.
Sera clears her throat and leans onto her knees, propped up by her elbows. “I’ve seen yeh and Coll together. I can’t imagine that the Taran Grim I met would ever allow or forgive Collens Donovan for nearly rapin’ her. And if you’re goin’ to make this gobshite think yeh actually believe he’s successfully wearing my brother’s skin, you’ll have to play the part. Even Coll wouldn’t expect anythin’ less than yeh been’ yourself.”
“I know,” I blink, “But I have to get him to believe I’ve forgiven him. And if I make him work for my forgiveness for too long, then getting Ruhmactír out of Coll will be even harder. Because I think that . . .” I take a breath and hold it, “the longer he’s in there, the weaker Coll gets.”
His sister frowns, discomfort settling into her eyes. “What do yeh mean?”
“My theory is that it’s like a muscle. If the mind or the spirit isn’t used, it gets weaker and weaker until it atrophies. Dies. I’ve been having nightmares about Coll for months. Nightmares in which he dies. And right now, Coll isn’t the one making decisions. It’s all Ruhmactír at this point. And the more your ancestor controls him, it would only make sense that the stronger Ruhmactír becomes. He ends up as the dominant force, the prevailing entity in his body. And Coll might disappear.”
At that, Sera leans back in her chair, rubbing her hands together slowly. Then, after a few moments of silence, she stands and walks into the kitchen.
“What is it?” I ask.
She opens the cupboard and pulls out a four-ounce juice glass. Above the same cupboard, she pulls down a bottle of liquor. Absolut Elyx vodka. “I need a drink,” she mumbles, pouring a full glass for herself. Then, with a sigh she adds, “Oh, I was so lookin’ forward to dinner tonight.” Sera lifts the glass to her lips and gulps down half of it. After a hiss, she swallows the rest.
Again, she fills the glass.
I skew my eyebrow in shock at how much vodka this Irish hexen woman is tolerant to as she walks with another four ounces—sans rocks—back to her seat and settles in. In the back of my mind, I feel a shift in the energy around me. Almost like an alarm from the sage spell.
“Someone’s coming,” I whisper.
Sera’s eyes widen. “Coll?” she mouths.
I squint, trying to make sense of the feeling the sage is communicating. “No.” I stand up and walk to the door, quickly looking out the peephole. Halfway down the staircase, I see Emilia walking up with a single white rose in her hand.
“It’s just Emilia,” I answer, pulling the door open.
Before she reaches the first step, I’ve got the door wide. Emilia slows down and looks at me. “What are—”
Sera walks up from behind, cutting off Emilia’s question, and motions quickly for her to join us. When the youngest Donovan doesn’t move fast enough, Sera lunges forward and grips her sister’s wrist, yanking her inside. Emilia gasps and protests while being dragged into the living room. I quickly shut the door and bolt it before walking over to grab the sage bundle which has largely stopped smoking. Again, I light it and repeat the spell all over the house while Sera directs her sister to keep her mouth shut.
It doesn’t quite take as long this time, but when I finish, I set the bundle back in its place and sit down in the armchair I just occupied.
“Can I talk now?” Emilia watches both of us with saucer-wide eyes.
I nod my head.
“Good. What the hell is goin’ on?”
I allow Sera to tell the whole story. Before she finishes the tale, Sera downs the entire second glass of vodka and her speech starts to slur.
“Oh,” is all Emilia says. She dangles the long stem rose from her fingertips and settles onto the couch next to her sister. “Well why don’t yeh just tell Coll to go to hell?”
“I already sold her that,” Sera replies.
“Sold?” Emilia asks.
“Told,” I correct her. “She’s coping with the news.” I make a drinking motion with a flick of my wrist.
“Ah.” Then, she fully turns to face me. “What I mean is, Coll is persistent. He once tracked down a woman who lived in Vienna, I think, on a flight from Beijing to Edinburgh to apologize for spillin’ wine on her skirt. Of course, it helped that she was stacked like yeh wouldn’t believe, but when he wants somethin’ he goes for it. It seems that Ruhmactír wants yeh. Or, at least, that he wants the staff yeh’ve been goin’ on about. I’d wager he’ll be sweet as honey and sunshine until he gets yeh to forgive him. And trust me, Coll or no Coll, that face is hard to say no to.”
I take a deep breath.
“Come on. Text him right now. Tell this monster to cut ‘is balls off.”
“Emilia!” Sera slaps her sister’s arm. “That’s our brother your talkin’ about. I don’t wanna hear about ‘is balls.”
“What? It’s not really Coll, right? He wants this stick yeh’ve got. Yeah? The more you harangue him, the more persistent he’ll be. Trust me.”
This time, I’m the one who stands up and walks into the kitchen. I take a page from Sera’s book and I pour myself a full glass of the same vodka before knocking the entire glass back. It scalds my throat as it slithers down into my stomach. I look back to Emilia and she widens of her eyes in impatience.
“Fine.” I stomp over to the chair where I’d been sitting and pull out my phone. After punching buttons and sliding to Coll’s message, I key in the simple words:
Don’t ever talk to me again, you piece of shit.
And hit send.
With shaky hands, I slide myself down into the armchair again and brave a look at Emilia. She gives me an encouraging, but nervous, smile.
“I hope you’re both sure about this. What if he really never talks to . . .”
My phone vibrates. My breath catches in my throat and I look at Coll’s sisters.
“I can’t believe it. The eejit actually responded,” Sera says.
I open my phone and look at the message.
I deserved that.
“That’s it?” I ask, looking at the three words.
“What did he say?”
“I deserved that.”
“That’s it? That’s all he said?” Emilia asks.
“That’s what I said,” I glare at her.
She shakes her head. “Well, that’s not right.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” I huff and grip my phone. “Why in the hell isn’t he fighting harder? Why isn’t he—”
“That’s why.” Emilia points at me, studying my face.
“What’s why?”
“Oooo, he’s good,” Sera responds, understanding something that I’m not. “He’s tryin’ to get yeh worked up.”
I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to figure out what they’re talking about.
“He’s countin’ on your temper to make yeh reach out and fight him. If he can get yeh engagin’ with him, by choice, he can get yeh to listen to him. All he has to do is agree wit’ yeh, that son of a bitch.”
I open my phone again and begin texting
. “Then, you gotta give the man what he wants, right?”
My fingers fly.
That’s it? After everything we’ve seen, you’re going to treat me like you did and tell me you “deserved that?”
My phone buzzes again just minutes later.
What do you want me to say, Taran? You told me to leave you alone. So, that’s what I’m doing. I owe you at least that.
My eyebrows pop up in real irritation and Emilia leans over my shoulder while I type out, At least? You’re lucky I’m not reporting you to the police.
Why don’t you? You should.
“No, he should, the bollix,” Emilia eggs me on.
No, YOU should. This noble high and mighty act is making me sick.
“Oh, I like that,” she says before I send it off.
Buzz.
Perhaps I should.
“He wouldn’t dare. He’s bluffin’.”
“Well, I know that,” I shake my head.
Good. I respond.
You’d really want me to do that?
I chuckle sarcastically while pressing my tongue against my canine teeth. “I can’t believe he just asked that.”
“Yeh called him on his bluff. And he’s dancin’ around it.”
Yes. Now leave me alone.
Buzz.
I did leave you alone. You’re the one who texted me back.
I think through my response before typing, What in the hell do you want from me, Coll? Do you have any idea what I’m going through? Do you even care?
Sera hisses behind me as she looks over my shoulder and I glance up at her. “What?”
“Uh, nothin’. I just think yeh went right for the juggler there.”
I frown at her mispronunciation of jugular. She’s completely shit-faced.
“But he’s an eejit,” she adds, filling up a third glass and pulling down a bag of potato chips from the cupboard. At least she’s adding food to the equation now.
Buzz. I look at the new message.
Of course, I care. Shite, I told you I loved you, but if you want me to leave, I’ll leave. I’ll report myself. I just wish I could take it all back.
Well, you can’t take it back. I answer. You did what you did and now we both have to live with it.
“Oh, boyo. Did he admit that he loves yeh? I think I’m ready for a drink myself,” Emilia says turning around to her sister. “Can I get mine on the rocks?”
“We’re almost out.” Sera holds up the nearly empty bottle.
“How ‘bout gin?”
“Ah!” Sera smiles lazily and roughly giggles. “I have some!”
Buzz.
What if I let you take it out on me?
“Oh, ho ho,” I gasp. “I can’t believe he said that.”
“What?” Emilia turns around.
You’d like that. I’m sure. Sadist. Go to hell.
“Pervert,” Sera says, looking over my shoulder. “And he’s what? Three thousand years old? Gag me.”
However, inside, I’m practically giddy. He’s offering to meet me again. This might be the opening I need to get my hands on him once more.
Buzz.
That would be sadomasochist. But no, I’m not talking about that. I’m just tired of this shite text threat. Can I please just talk with you in person?
“He’s asking again,” I whisper.
“Askin’ what?” Emilia says, placing her chin on my shoulder to read the message. When she finishes, I hit the power button on my phone and set it down. “What? Aren’t yeh goin’ to respond?”
“Of course, I am. I need to make him think I’m mulling it over. It needs to look like it’s a hard decision.”
Sera takes a deep breath and carries her final glass of vodka and the bag of potato chips over to the couch. “Crisp?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t really feel like eating.”
Buzz. I look down at the screen. But it’s not Coll texting, it’s Dad.
Bug, are you all right?
I quickly text him back.
Just fine. Working through some kinks with Sera and Emilia. I’ll be home soon.
“Can I ask yeh a Q?” Sera asks as I set the phone down again.
“A Q?” I frown.
Sera looks up at the ceiling, blankly. Not quite sure whether she’s gone comatose or just forgot what the question was, I lean forward. “Sera?”
“Q . . . Q . . . question! That’s the word!” she stares at me wide-eyed and grinning.
“Sure.”
There’s an awkward pause as Sera tinks her fingernail against the glass in her hand then stretches her arm out, trying to set the empty glass on the armrest. She fails to get it to balance at all and the glass topples over the ridge and to the floor.
“Oh, jayz,” Emilia leans down to pick it up and takes it into the kitchen. “You’re cut off!”
Sera waves her sister off and then clasps her hands together, looking me right in the eye. “My question.”
“Yes,” I nod slowly, willing her to get to the point. “The question.”
“We both know, well—we all know—how Coll felt about yeh before all of this. But you,” she pauses, her eyes unfocused and glazed over. “Do yeh love me brother?” While I can tell that she’s not entirely all there, her words trip me up and I clear my throat. I’m not even sure what to say.
“Uh, Sera, I don’t know Coll well enough to—”
“Bullshite,” Sera scoots forward on the couch and nearly falls off, barely teetering on the edge. I reach forward to balance her and help her back up a bit when she looks back at me again. “I saw how yeh acted when yeh read his text. I don’t think my ass-nestor would have told yehhe loved yeh f-he didn’t know what was goin’ on in Coll’s head. He knew it would be something yeh w-wanted to hear. So be feckin’ honest with me.” Sera grabs my hand, her cloudy eyes roaming my face. “Do yehlove Collens?”
I avoid her eye contact and pull my hand out of hers. Even in the kitchen, Emilia has gone quiet. Both of them, waiting on me. I look down at my hands, beginning again with the cuticles. Pushing them back, evading the topic at hand.
“Taran?” Emilia’s more stable state makes her words crisper. Clearer. I look up at her. “Do yeh?”
The air around me thickens and I think about Coll’s words all over again. She takes my breath away. It makes me want to see him, have him back. Right now. Just so I can . . .
I pause and reach over for my phone, opening Coll’s last message. My fingers type out one final message.
Fine. But only in public. Café Marguerite. Tomorrow. Noon.
I hit the power button and then wave the phone in the air, looking into Emilia’s eyes, and then Sera’s. “There. That’s your answer.”
Seventeen
The lake water outside Angie’s house ripples, and the flames of the small pyre I made to burn my dress from the other evening reflect off the water and dance even more. After spending last night with Sera and Emilia, I came back, changed into that stretched out Adidas t-shirt, and went directly to bed. Though, I can’t say that I went directly to sleep. I continued to rehash the texting conversation with Coll until my mind wouldn’t work anymore.
I poke at the fire with a stick, ensuring that damned dress turns to ashes. Behind me, I hear the door of the cottage creak open.
“Taran?”
I turn to see Angie standing on the front stoop of the cottage. I toss the long stick into the fire and snap my fingers. The consuming fire heats up and grows, the flames turning white. I have to stand back about another ten feet to shield myself against the heat. After about five seconds, I snap my fingers again and the entire fire reduces to glowing ash. I motion with my hand toward the lake and a large ball of water rises up and splashed against the remnants of the fire.
With a deep breath, I head back toward the cottage and Angie’s impatient stare. When I got up this morning, she greeted me briefly, but it was cold and impersonal. Clipped words, and a quiet voice. She’s been more distant in the last
few hours, what with the whole stealing-Hellia’s-grimoire-and-sneaking-in-and-out-of-her-bedroom-to-open-it fiasco. At least she’s still being polite.
Angie folds her arms and gives me a dead stare. There’s a part of me that shrinks under that stare, and a completely different part that wants to smack her shoulder and tell her to get over it.
“Emilia wants to see how the sleeping draught is made.” She sniffs. “Would you be opposed to going back to Sera’s flat and making the potion there?”
“Opposed?” I say, running my hand through my hair. Angie steps back to allow me into the house. “No. Apprehensive, though? A bit. It was already risky enough that I went there last night to talk about Coll. The sage spell I cast worked well enough, but I’d prefer to work in a space where I don’t have to look over my shoulder every few minutes. Not to mention, if we ever do get Coll back, he’ll murder me for involving Emilia in the craft.”
Angie nods. “Understandable. Then, in that case, I’ll go get her and bring her back here.”
“Angie!” I gasp. “Go get her?”
For the first time in the last twenty-four hours, give or take, Angie gives me the first hint of a smile I’ve seen. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to tiaseal with another person?”
“First of all, that’s not what I’m concerned about.” I drag my fingers through my long, black hair. “Second,” I huff, “I only recently learned to travel at all. Let alone with another hundred-and-thirty-pound person.”
“Hmm. Another lesson we’ll have to have.” She reaches for a sage green cardigan and pulls it over her paisley peasant top, looking smug and taking some pride in her own magical superiority. “I’ll be back soon.”
At that, she blinks out of the room and I’m left standing alone. A set of footsteps start their way down the stairs, and I look up to my dad as he enters the main level of the house.