Relics and Runes Anthology

by Heather Marie Adkins

  Ten minutes later, the taxi slowed and pulled to the side of the road, opposite the MJE Building’s sun-glinting glass front. I counted out cash, but held it back and glanced over at the building.

  Being Sunday afternoon, the middle of town was pretty much deserted. Even the few occupants visible in pub opposite were practically motionless in the enervating heat. Shimmers rose off the asphalt, distorting the sharp lines of the buildings.

  The front doors of MJE slid open. My mother strolled out, radiant and laughing, arm in arm with Michael. Her red hair glinted in the golden afternoon light. Michael strode directly to a waiting limousine. The couple were surrounded by six watchful security staff and joined by three other women and two men. Presumably other office staff.

  My fingers were on the door-handle before sense caught up with eagerness and put a collar on it.

  ‘Hang on,’ I said to the driver, ‘I might need you to take me somewhere else.’

  He gave an easy shrug.

  Anna threw a smiling comment at one of the workers and waved to them. Michael handed her into the black-windowed limo. Two of the security staff climbed in with them. The other four slid into a matched pair of grey Mercedes – one in front of the limo and one behind. All three vehicles pulled away from the curb.

  I tucked the cash away, debating.

  Anna was perfectly fine, and far better-protected with Michael than anything I could do. The chances of anyone kidnapping her at the moment were pretty much zero. So were my chances of getting close to her, unseen. There was no point spending money driving around, following them to drinks. I’d have to find another way to reach her.

  I was about to give the taxi driver the address for a motel I’d pulled off Laterates.com, when movement across the street caught my eye.

  A tall man, in cargo shorts and a blue polo shirt, stepped out of the shadows of the pub. He touched one finger to his ear and watched Michael’s cavalcade vanish around the corner. His lips moved. He turned in a slow circle, surveying the empty street around the building. A cap shadowed his angular, lean face. Sunglasses hid his eyes. But it was him: Connor Blake. Just waiting for me to show up.

  ‘Shit!’ I slid down in the seat. My heart raced and my head began to pound. Darkness broke free, erupting, rage-filled to protect me. I cried out and pressed my palms against my head. My whole body shook with the effort of holding it back. Kicking the back of the driver’s seat I yelled at him.

  ‘Drive. Go!’

  ‘Where?’ The driver sent me a bewildered glance in the mirror.

  ‘Just go!’

  He shrugged and pulled away from the curb, leaving the threat behind. My head thumped. The ink clouding my thoughts retreated.

  He was right. Where? I couldn’t go to any friends’ houses, partly because I had none and partly because anyone I knew from school might be watched. I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t leave town and abandon Anna. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t get to Anna, or even call her to make plans, without being tracked.

  As much as I hated to admit it, I had no idea what to do next. I wanted this over with. I wanted these people to back the hell off, but how to achieve that was beyond me. Anger and determination would only get me so far. And it was a fine line between anger and stupidity. I couldn’t take these people down on my own if I couldn’t control what was inside of me.

  I needed help. I had to trust someone; to put my safety and my mother’s in someone else’s hands. The thought galled but I couldn’t see any other options. And, if Logan was telling the truth about being able to help me, what he knew might also set me free.

  I had to take the chance. When I went after these men, I couldn’t risk releasing what lurked in my head.

  I gave the driver the address of Logan’s safe house.

  He accelerated me away from danger, but towards the unknown.

  A short while later, I stood somewhere in the middle of suburbia, still hesitating, still unsure. The street waited, quiet and calm: a haven after the last twenty-four hours. It was pretty, for a suburb; full of established trees and a hodgepodge of house styles covering at least a century. One side was a set of modern townhouses, all clean rendered walls and square outlines. Next to that stood a timber and fibreboard construction perched on breeze blocks and badly in need of razing. Beside it a small timber cottage, its porches adorned with more lacework than a wedding dress, hid behind a hedge of glossy green bushes bearing white flowers that smelled like orangeblossom.

  All along the street, poinciana trees bloomed. Their fire-orange flowers clashed with the blue sky and scattered like blood-offerings over the road. A car swished past, fluttering petals into little flame-storms. To the northeast, a small thunderhead piled grey and luminous-white pillows high into the stratosphere. The air thickened with the foreknowledge of rain to come.

  I stood outside a graceful old timber house and stared through the security gates. Behind the house, sunset’s lurid pinks and oranges flared. A distant rumble of thunder thrummed through my body as I hesitated. Grey clouds roiled higher and the sky darkened.

  Inside that house, I assumed, were Maeve and Jennifer; Logan’s family. They held the answers to my questions and, possibly, help to get Anna. On the other hand, I’d never met them and I barely knew Logan. What if I was walking into some sort of trap? This peaceful street was hardly the place, but....

  Oh, good grief. Paranoia was taking over. What had I told myself before about the need to stop living a half-life? So far Logan had done nothing unforgivable or given me any big reason not to trust him. I’d just spent too many years mistrusting everyone. If he could help me get Anna away and had answers to some of the most fundamental questions of my life, I needed to walk through the gate in order to ask them.

  Squaring my shoulders, I pushed the buzzer on the gate-post. The gates swung inward with expensive efficiency. I marched inside, crunched up the long driveway and climbed the stairs onto a broad verandah. Huge windows, designed to be open to catch every breeze, were closed and shuttered, the muted hum of an airconditioner audible. I knocked and the door swung open to reveal...Logan.

  He gazed calmly at me and folded his arms. ‘Finished stealing cars?’

  I stayed where I was, mirroring his pose and raising my chin at him. Unable to think of a witty, snappy return, I pressed my lips together. I wasn’t going to beg for help.

  ‘You don’t have to beg,’ he said. ‘We were going to help you anyway. You just have to stick around long enough to let us.’

  I glared at him, unnerved. ‘Stop that. Stay out of my head!’

  A faint smile flickered and he indicated the house again. ‘If we’re going to argue you may as well come in. It’s hot out and it’s going to rain soon.’

  ‘Only if you tell me what the hell is going on!’ I strode past into the cool interior.

  He didn’t rise to that, only suggesting mildly that I lay my hat, glasses and blonde wig on a hall table. I followed him deeper into the house. The outer door clicked shut. Logan touched several buttons on a sophisticated computer screen on the wall and a series of red lights blinked.

  ‘Security system.’ He answered my unspoken question. ‘As far as we know this house is off their radar, but it pays to be cautious now you’ve arrived in a taxi. That does leave a trail.’

  I pursed my lips, biting back a sarcastic rejoinder. The twist of his mouth said he’d probably heard it anyway.

  He led me through a central hallway, bypassing spacious, open plan lounge, kitchen, study and dining areas to either side, until we reached the back verandah. Two wings of the house carried the verandah around a freeform pool that was nestled in amongst a veritable rainforest of tropical and subtropical plants. With a sigh of pleasure, I sank into an outdoor chair. Surrounded by a transplanted forest, I was almost able to relax.

  Logan vanished into the kitchen and returned with an iced drink. I drank it appreciatively. Homemade lemonade, it’s tart chill a perfect counter to the humidity. He refilled my glass with
out comment, this time adding a dash of vodka after I nodded to his silent question. He settled into a chair opposite, watching me silently, with that leashed stillness so peculiar to his character.

  As my shoulder muscles relaxed under the warm influence of the alcohol, I slid a look under my lashes at him. I’d effectively ditched him and he had every right to be angry with me. Then again, he still hadn’t told me everything, so I should be pissed off at him. Maybe that made us even.

  His lips curved, softening into humour. Dappled afternoon sunlight flickered across his face, showing hints of auburn in his dark hair.

  ‘You’re broadcasting again.’

  ‘What?’

  He tapped his temple. ‘I wasn’t in your head before. You were broadcasting. You need to learn to shield your thoughts.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You have fairly good natural shields. It probably comes from growing up living in cities, around so many people. Otherwise their thoughts would have driven you insane by now. It’s probably because I took down the first block that I can hear you so easily now.’

  I sat back, rubbing my hands over my face. ‘OK, it’s been an...unusual twenty-four hours. I’ve about had enough of being kept in the dark. Not being a mushroom, I’ve always hated it, real and metaphoric.’

  ‘A mushroom?’ He groaned. ‘Ah. In the dark and fed crap. Got it. I haven’t fed you any crap, by the way. All of it’s true.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, trying to maintain the angry momentum I’d had on the way over. ‘I’m pretty damned pissed off and I’m not in the mood for more put-offs. Answer a few more questions, will you? Then I need to work out what to do next.’

  ‘By all means.’ He leaned back in his chair and spread his palms. ‘Ask away.’

  14

  We are almost there. Do you need more time?>

  A little. She’s handling it well, but she still doesn’t trust me.

 

  ...

 

  Oh yes. I’m not likely to forget, am I?

  ‘What you said before,’ I began, ‘about special abilities other than speed and strength. What else do the Daoine…the sidhe…we…have?

  Logan traced patterns in the condensation on his glass. ‘There are a few other skills. Mostly in women. Telekinesis, precognition, psychometry, animal affinity are the main ones. And a few no-one’s seen in several generations: teleportation, the shadow-thought, pyrokinesis. Both sexes can channel the forest’s life-force into healing. Which explains some of the miracles in the Bible, if you think about it.’

  ‘Oh!’ I sat up straight. ‘Is that what you were going to show me? Is that why you were laughing when I bought bandages?’

  He half-stood, unwound the gauze I’d wrapped around his thigh and revealed his injured leg. Through the torn jeans, his skin was clean and healed, just the faintest white scar showing where, only a few hours before, blood dripped from a gouge in the flesh.

  I gazed in open-mouthed astonished belief and disbelief. That, more than his words, convinced me.

  ‘But if we’re so frigging brilliant,’ I objected, ‘why are you scared of humans?’

  Logan gave a sardonic crack of laughter. ‘You have to be kidding. There’s a limit to what we can heal and we need substantial connection to the sianfath to do it. We’re a minority and we do die. Do you remember what modern Easter celebrates? Remember what happened to Gandhi? Our very existence is a challenge to so many philosophies and beliefs it’s staggering. Humans are terrified of things they don’t understand.’

  I leaned back again, taking a sip of my drink to steady myself. ‘So that’s why you rescued me last night? Because you thought I was one of you? That’s very altruistic.’ I pointed at myself. ‘How did you recognise me?’

  I had little faith in altruism. He clearly had an agenda of sorts but I doubted he would reveal it yet.

  He looked up at the ceiling, as if considering his answer. ‘Partly it’s just a sense of…connection, I guess you could call it. A feeling that you’ve met someone before when you know you haven’t.’ When I nodded my understanding, he continued. ‘Partly it was your eyes.’

  I touched my face. ‘What about them?’

  ‘The blue or grey eyes with very dark rims is a gene from our people. It’s pretty uncommon and recessive, so it won’t be your only clue. And it doesn’t tell you what percentage caste the person is. Or whether they’re Light or Dark. Just that they have sidhe ancestry.’ He shifted in his seat. ‘We don’t think anyone’s yet worked out that connection, but it’s only a matter of time and then people will start disappearing.’

  ‘Damn! I knew I should have worn contacts.’ Unable to contain my restlessness any longer, I rose and paced a few steps before turning back. ‘So, you really think these Mors Ferrum people want to dissect me?’

  Logan shrugged, hooking his elbows over the back of the chair and stretching his legs out under the table. ‘It’s a possibility. I don’t know exactly what their motives are.’

  I leaned on the railing and stared out over the lush garden and pool, not seeing it at all. ‘It’s scary they spotted me so quickly. I’ve only been here a couple of weeks.’ I turned back to study him. ‘Five years ago they said they wanted to ask me about the ocair. What is it? Why is it so important?’

  ‘I told you.’ He switched his gaze back to his drink and shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  I glared at him. ‘You’re lying. Again.’

  ‘No.’ He caught my eye, sincerity in his. ‘It’s true that it means “key” but that’s all I know. I promise, Red.’

  No amount of staring caused him to flinch so I looked out over the peaceful garden and up at the rustling leaves overhead.

  ‘Fine. But you said there was more; some reason why my father put this block in my mind. I can’t see how being afraid of humans would cause that. He’d survived. Surely he could’ve taught me the same skills. Just my speed and the—’ I caught myself and changed the sentence, ‘—strength has set me apart my whole life.’

  Logan stood beside me. ‘It probably has more to do with his own history. You can make a lot of enemies in five hundred years.’

  ‘They’d mostly be dead, though,’ I returned sarcastically. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m struggling to see where I fit into all of this.’ I put my hands on my hips. ‘I still don’t see how helping me, benefits you. Nobody risks their own life for nothing.’

  ‘You don’t trust me,’ he said. ‘I don’t blame you. I’ve known this my whole life. I’ve had my aunt around for guidance.’ He leaned on the railing and turned to face me. ‘Perhaps your father put the blocks in to keep you from accidentally betraying yourself to a dark-aligned fellow sidhe, or an enemy of his.’

  ‘But why did he leave?’ I sounded like a stupid, hurt kid. Annoyed with myself for revealing too much, I picked up my drink and threw it back, grimacing at the alcoholic bite.

  He still hadn’t answered my questions about his motives and that bugged me.

  Logan shrugged again. ‘I only know a little of your father’s public history. He appeared rather suddenly in the court of Queen Elizabeth and earned her favour in some unspecified way when she was young. She granted him the title & lands to his family in perpetuity. From then on, he and his “descendants” spent a lot of time meddling in politics; making enemies. I suspect that’s why he never wanted children. Families make you vulnerable.’

  There was a hint of bitterness in his tone that surprised me, but probably shouldn’t have.

  ‘You said you’d lost your father,’ I said gently. ‘What about your mother?’

  ‘My mother was murdered by a Dark sidhe.’

  ‘Oh.’
I touched his arm. ‘I’m sor—’

  He jerked out from beneath my touch, eyes blazing. He backed away, his body tense. Then the look was gone and his face was calm and distant once again.

  ‘It was a long time ago.’ He poured another drink and swallowed it in three gulps. ‘We were talking about your father and the Mors.’

  I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself. What was that all about?

  In the gathering darkness, a rumble as thunder rolled around the city yet failed to deliver the promised rain. Frogs in the thick undergrowth around the pool began to sing their welcome.

  ‘So,’ I said, trying to find a way under his guard, ‘what are you saying? You came to, what, kill whoever is responsible for Jonathan’s disappearance?’

  He nodded again, face grim. ‘We’ve been doing it for the last five years, since Jen’s been old enough. Travelling the world, trying to keep the sidhe off the industrial research radar; keeping tabs on genetic research.

  ‘How many sidhe are left?’ Had I found my place, only to lose it to people like that? It didn’t bear thinking about.

  ‘My aunt thinks maybe fifty thousand or so full blooded,’ Logan said, ‘and maybe double that in half castes aware of who they are. Many more whose genes are so diluted that they’re just better sports people, or gifted linguists.’

  I eyed him. ‘So, if you’re so focussed on whoever killed your cousin, why did you risk exposure by rescuing me? Were you hoping to recruit me?’

  He looked at me with steady expectation then shrugged one shoulder. ‘We could use your help, yes.’

  ‘No way.’ I backed up a step. ‘I don’t want to be part of your private war. I just need to get these people off my back and my mother out of town safely to where she can start over.’

  Logan’s head lifted and he looked in the direction of the front door. He shoved off from the railing.

  ‘Maeve and Jen are here. Come meet them.’