Weald Fae 03 - The Aetherfae

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by Christopher Shields


  “Sara, I need to ask you a question, and I’m afraid I already know the answer.”

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “Did you come to save me on the ship five nights ago?”

  Small lines formed across her brow. “No, I did not. Save you from what?”

  “Mara shattered my arm, bit me on the neck, cut me up pretty bad. I was in really bad shape—feverish and delusional. A Fae—I thought it was you—came to me. It healed the damage to my arm, made the fever go away.”

  The lines on her smooth skin deepened to crevices. “That was not me. Was it you who visited me two nights ago at Glenariff?”

  “Glenariff? I thought Glenariff was a forest—yes, that was me. I projected. Isn’t Glenariff where Caorann met the Celt?”

  “There is still a forest there, a very small area of forest. That is where Caorann dwelled with Ádhamh. That was his name—Ádhamh. Eyr has changed in two thousand years. Once the entire realm of the Sidhe was covered in forests, except for a few small places. They’ve all been cut down. This is not the Ireland I once knew. This is a human-made disaster.”

  “That bad?”

  “Close your eyes, and please allow me…”

  Sara entered my mind, and instantly we were standing in a beautiful forest of ancient oaks, alder, pine, hazel, and many others. “There weren’t always forests here,” she said to me in the vision. “Eyr was covered in scrub ten thousand years ago, after the last ice age, but as the climate grew warmer, the hardwoods came. First the junipers, then the larger trees. About eight thousand years ago, our realm looked like this. I’m showing you my memory of visiting Eyr the first time.”

  “I thought you were a Sidhe for much longer than eight thousand years?”

  “No, I travelled the physical world for thousands of years, spending centuries in different places. It wasn’t until I stood in this very spot that I found my place.”

  “I’m sorry, Sara. I think this is beautiful. Did man cut down all the trees? I didn’t think it was possible to strip an entire island of its forests.”

  “Eyr was beautiful, and it can look like this again. That is what the Sidhe want.”

  Sara dropped the vision and looked sad once again. It didn’t take much to figure out why. Returning Ireland to the image she showed me would require removing the Irish people. Sara loved humans, so the dilemma couldn’t have been easy on her.

  “Is it what you want?” I finally asked.

  “What I want doesn’t matter to my clan. I left them for two thousand years, and joined the very clan that permitted this to happen. I don’t agree with Dana, but I understand her. Ozara forced the Sidhe into obscurity, and threatened death to the entire clan if they interfered with humans. The Sidhe were powerless to do anything, but as humans are fond of saying, they had a front row seat for all of it.”

  “I’d be furious.”

  “They were incensed five centuries ago—they are…something much worse now. And they see this as an opportunity to correct two thousand years of neglect and plundering. I’m afraid you will find no allies among the Sidhe.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  SAINT AUBIN ROUTOT

  Sara returned to the top of the hill after a quick exchange with Ronnie and Candace. I made up an excuse about feeling exhausted for Sean’s sake, and acted like I was napping in the small living room. My mind raced back up the hill to Gavin and the Sidhe.

  The Sidhe and the Ohanzee were making a treaty of sorts. The Sidhe had created their own Seoladán in a stone circle at a place called Lough Gur. If the Ohanzee were attacked, the Sidhe would permit them to flee to Ireland. If the Sidhe were attacked, the Ohanzee would allow the Sidhe to seek safe refuge in the Weald.

  Together they would be a formidable clan. Three hundred Ohanzee and two hundred Sidhe, together, would give Ozara and the Alliance something to think about. The plan made sense, but I could tell by the rhetoric that the agreement was on precarious footing. The clans didn’t like the idea of working together, but in the face of complete destruction, both had agreed. Devin would travel with Gavin to the Weald and back so both clans would know the route. It was a secret that put a price on both their heads. It made me nervous.

  Dana ordered Gavin out of Eyr, and then she told him something I didn’t expect. In the event the Ohanzee needed to escape to Ireland, he was not to join them. She warned him never to come back, and she told him to get me out of Ireland. “Have her leave tonight. If she is in Eyr tomorrow, anywhere in Eyr, I will destroy her myself.”

  Gavin looked surprised and angry.

  “We have nothing against her, Gavin. We captured two Rogue hunters in the north last night. Before they died, they told us the Second suspects that your human killed an ancient Fae. The Second has made Maggie’s death a top priority. She is a danger to any clan that assists her. If I thought it was possible for you to do so, I would recommend you leave her now and never come close again. She is a human—slow and easy to track. They will find her, and if you are with her, they will kill you both. Do not gamble your existence on the creature. She is not worth it.”

  “I appreciate your time, Dana. I’ll be leaving now.”

  Dana shook her head. “You are a fool, Gavin.”

  He ignored her and shot down the hill toward the cottage. I lingered for a few moments out of curiosity, but the Sidhe took to Naeshura and moved away in different directions.

  Sean seemed ready for us to depart. He stood conspicuously near the front door of the tiny cottage, folding and unfolding his hands. It was dark outside when Gavin came in.

  “Can you give us a few minutes,” Gavin said.

  Sean exhaled loudly and marched to the little kitchen. I threw an Air barrier around us so our host couldn’t hear.

  “We need to leave. The Sidhe want you and me out of here.”

  “I know. I was listening in.”

  Gavin sighed, looking up with big, apologetic eyes. “Did you get what you wanted from Sara?”

  “Yes. We’re headed to Holland.”

  Candace smiled. “Holland? Nice. Never been.”

  Gavin ignored Candace. “She’s sending you to the Kabouter?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll find you there. I have to leave now—you know why—but I won’t be able to return through Ireland. I’ll have to use the Seoladán in the Alps. I’ll find you in two days’ time. Keep a low profile.”

  “I know, I heard. The Rogues. We will be careful, I promise.”

  He scooped me into his arms and whispered, “Drive to Rossiare. Catch a Ferry there. It will take you directly to France. Avoid any place you’ve already been. Promise me you’ll take no chances.”

  “I promise—I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”

  He shook his head but couldn’t keep the smile off his face. I pulled him closer, allowing the warmth of his body to make me feel safe as it always did. After a kiss that didn’t last nearly long enough, Gavin shifted to Naeshura and bolted away. I traced him as he moved to the north and then disappeared with Devin. Apparently, Lough Gur and the secret Seoladán were within two miles.

  Sean tried to walk into the room before I lowered my Air barrier. Like running into a glass door, he stumbled backwards and grew alarmed. I dropped the barrier and tried to apologize. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

  Sean turned red and the veins in his neck were bulging. ”Leave now,” he barked.

  I followed Candace and Ronnie to the door when I felt Sean channel Air. I didn’t realize what he was doing until my mind reacted and blocked his attack. I turned as he tried to push me out the door.

  “That’s a mistake,” I said, grabbing him around the torso with invisible fingers. I lifted him off the floor. “We’re leaving already. If you don’t stop, I’ll have to hurt you and I don’t want to do that.”

  He clenched his teeth and struggled against my invisible grip. When I set him down, he straightened his shirt, and backed into the kitchen. I really felt bad for him. He was here
alone, living in abject poverty, and as skittish as a feral cat.

  “Sean, do you want to come with us?”

  “No,” he said from somewhere in the kitchen. “They will never let me leave.”

  “I can get you out of here, I promise.”

  He paused for a moment, like he was considering my offer. “No, this is my curse to bear—the curse of being a McLoughlin in County Limerick.”

  “A curse?”

  “It’s a five hundred year old family curse—knowing about the Sidhe, we’re the most cursed family in Ireland. I cannot leave. If I do, they’ll force my sister to take my place. Please leave.”

  I began to hate the Sidhe. They had been terrorizing this family for centuries. If the time ever came when Dana didn’t need the McLoughlins around, I knew things for Sean would turn bleak, and they’d do so quickly.

  “Goodbye, Sean.”

  The lights in the ramshackle cottage went out as Ronnie started the car. I felt guilty when we drove away. What a miserable life.

  We headed due east and drove through the night. Sleep evaded us all. With no idea whether the Sidhe might change their minds and come after us, or whether Rogues might discover us along the way, I continuously scanned as far as my mind would stretch. After pulling into Rossiare Port at 4:00 am, long before the sun came up, we decided to park the car in one of the lots and leave a message on the rental company answering machine about where to find it. I felt bad, but we decided it was a poor idea to take the rental car all the way to France. It would be several hours before the boat was scheduled to depart, so we found a set of benches in the terminal and huddled together there.

  * * *

  The ferry, the Oscar Wilde, set sail from Ireland at 1:30 p.m., and wasn’t scheduled to dock in France until 9:00 a.m. the next morning. For the long voyage, we booked a deluxe cabin with two double beds—it was much nicer than the ferry we’d taken from England. Exhausted, and on the verge of collapse, I seized the opportunity to sleep. Candace finally woke me when we were just an hour from Cherbourg.

  “You were completely worn out,” she said casually when I sat up.

  “Didn’t get any sleep the night before, eh?” Ronnie sniped.

  “Whatever,” I responded. I felt my face blush.

  “Hush up, Ronald,” Candace growled.

  “Thank you, Candace,” I said.

  “After all, Ronnie, if Maggie wants to talk about spending the night with the hottest, most gorgeous guy who has ever walked the surface of the planet, it’s her prerogative. She may not want to share the lurid details with her two best friends…two people who have given up everything…risked their lives to help her on this dangerous quest…and it really isn’t our place to expect her to say a word.”

  I started laughing, and both of them sat beside me on the bed. “Forget it, I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “Seesh, I knew it,” Ronnie said.

  “Not even a hint?” Candace asked. “He’s legendary. He’s a freaking Greek god, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Um, no! Technically, he wasn’t a god—you really should bone up on your Greek mythology.”

  “Interesting choice of words,” Ronnie snorted.

  All three of us cackled.

  “Okay, enough. If you’re really that curious, I know for a fact that Poseidon is single.”

  Candace sighed. “Okay, we’ll leave you alone. Can’t blame a girl for trying. So, what is the plan?”

  “Well, we probably need to get a new car. I think we should buy one, an older one. I don’t want to be traced through a rental company.”

  “And how do you propose to license it?” Ronnie asked.

  “Gavin can take care of that tomorrow. After we get a car, we need to get disposable cell phones, and we need to buy different clothes. We look like American tourists.”

  “I’ve noticed that, too. We do stick out. Okay, so car, phones, clothes. What else?”

  “A map of some kind. God, I wish one of us spoke French.”

  “Well, it just so happens…” Ronnie said, grinning.

  Candace rolled her eyes. “Oh, no. I’ve heard your French. You’ll get us deported.”

  Ronnie shook his head. “No, you haven’t. Gavin taught me. Actually, he compelled me to learn it—only took about five minutes.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Absolument.”

  “Great! He’s our eyes and ears. We’re going to get deported, for sure.”

  “Candy, s'étouffer, s'il vous plaît.”

  “Don’t look so proud of yourself. It’s annoying.”

  * * *

  Ronnie’s French turned out to be just fine. He learned that once we bought a car, we would have fifteen days to register it. We wouldn’t need it that long, I hoped. After buying three phones and a change of wardrobe for each, we found a used Citroën C5 with a broken radio and a sickeningly sweet odor, and set off toward the Netherlands.

  Beyond the harbor, Cherbourg was very charming. We drove past old houses neatly arranged along tree-lined streets that were divided by flower-filled planters. Past Cherbourg, we set across Northern France on our 500-mile journey. By noon we crossed the Seine where it emptied into the English Channel. It was just past the large suspension bridge that I sensed trouble.

  “What is it?” Candace asked, always watching my body language.

  “Fae.”

  “Good or bad?”

  “I’m not sure. I think…oh my god…it’s Dersha. They’re here in France.”

  “How far? What do we do?” Ronnie asked.

  “Ronnie, just drive. They’re behind us, closing fast, but not close yet. When you can, get off the main road. They appear to be checking cars.”

  “How soon?” He asked.

  “Pull off a mile or two ahead. They haven’t seen us yet.” I cast Clóca around Candace and myself, leaving Ronnie visible. I hoped they’d ignore a car with one person in it, but that was probably a pipe dream. They were checking each car.

  Dersha was travelling just ahead of the group—she was already at the suspension bridge. She channeled a massive amount of energy, causing the hair to stand on the back of my neck. She stopped advancing at the bridge, or there about, and I spun in the seat. I could just make out the top of the northern tower before it plunged below the horizon. I gasped. Oh my god. How many people just died?

  Ronnie kept driving, occasionally glancing at the rearview mirror. He didn’t seem too nervous—I thought maybe he hadn’t seen the bridge disappear. Candace had. Underneath the Clóca, she turned to me, tears streaming down her face as she fought to control her breathing. Simultaneously, we both said, “We need to get off the road now.”

  I opened a sliver in the Clóca. “Ronnie, look for an exit as soon as you can and drive us away from this road. Fast.”

  Ronnie tossed the Citroën to the right when we came to the next exit. I was too busy focusing on the Fae to pay attention to where we were going. From in front of us I felt more Fae approaching. They were searching cars from the other direction. Had we stayed on the road, they’d have been on top of us in moments. My gut told me to get out of the car and hide with Ronnie and Candace.

  “Turn right on that road,” I yelled, spotting a side street in the first little town we came to.

  “Rue de l’Eglise. Okay, then what?”

  “Find a place, preferably with a lot of people, and pull over.”

  Rue de l’Eglise was a very narrow road, barely more than one lane, with hedges and ivy growing right at the shoulder. After a few hundred feet along it, I realized I’d picked a rather terrible hiding place. There were several houses, but there was nobody milling about.

  “I don’t see people,” Ronnie protested.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t either.”

  “Look on the right, on top the little hill. There’s a church,” Candace said.

  I scanned the area around the road. “Ronnie, over there. Pull in.”

  The Fae were about a half mile apart, and only
a mile from us. When Ronnie stopped the car, I pulled him under the Clóca barrier. I hoped the Rogues hadn’t noticed a human disappear.

  “Let’s go,” I said. We were in a bad place, and my gut was screaming for me to get moving. We’d parked along the narrow street, just past a small intersection. Old buildings, houses, and tall hedges lined the paving so closely I felt like a mouse in a French maze. I had no clue where to run. Behind us, a tall red-brick church with a steeple sat on a hill beyond a grave yard. As a general rule I hated graveyards, and that one was no exception.

  Candace stopped at the trunk and pulled our old clothing out of our bags.

  “What are you doing?” I snapped

  “Giving us some breathing room in case they’re tracking us by scent. Come on, help me.”

  We grabbed our bags and trudged up the narrow street, away from our red sedan. A box truck moved by slowly and we pressed up against the wall—it cleared us by a few inches. As it passed, Candace tried to stuff a few articles of clothing in a gap between the bumper and the bodywork, but Ronnie’s shirt ended up on the street. She tried again with the next car, nearly getting her hand stuck as the vehicle accelerated past us.

  “Let me. I can do it without losing fingers,” I said.

  My invisible grip was more dexterous than ever as I managed to tie shirts and undergarments to several passing cars, and hidden under Clóca the entire time, nobody saw a thing.

  Ronnie began laughing. “Just imagine what these poor people are going to think when they get out of their cars and find my tighty-whities flopping on the bumpers.”

  A smile spread across my face and Candace cackled.

  “That’s a good start, but they’ll be able to track our scent from here. We need to mask it, and we need to do it quickly.”

  “Thought of that already.” Candace handed me a bottle of perfume she had bought back Cherbourg. “It was the strongest stuff they had. I thought it might be helpful to change our scents a few times. I have four kinds.”

  Ronnie smiled. “I wondered why you were buying all the perfume. That stuff is nasty.”

  I took a sniff and wrenched my head back. “Eww. They can probably smell through it, but it’s worth a shot. Only put it on your jackets—don’t let it touch your skin.”

 

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