"Never mind then, bad idea! We'll just go back to the elevator; it's not far."
Even with me helping him, holding him up, he can barely shuffle along.
"So why did the druids take you?"
"Oh, they hate me," he says, smiling ruefully. "They've been trying to get to me for a long time. But I've always had the leprechauns as a deterrent— that, and my habit of never staying in any one city very long. Lately, though, I've been rather tied down to one place."
The leprechauns being gone— that's on me. The druids found him because he got rid of his bodyguards, and because he's been staying around here. With me.
"Why didn't you really leave, when I told you to go?" I ask quietly. "You could have gone somewhere new, somewhere far away."
"I couldn't," he whispers. "The world is too big— I couldn't take that much space between us."
I'm stunned for a minute, because the thought of his absence, of the distance, makes me feel exactly the same way.
Maybe love isn't all the easy, exciting parts— the fluttering hearts, and the kissing, and the holding hands, and talking about things we both like. Maybe it's something else, something much deeper. Something that goes beyond any changes in how we feel, or the fights we have, or the problems we face. Something that says, "You and me, we're together. That's forever, and it will stay that way, whether I like you right now or not."
Maybe that's how I feel about the Far Darrig. Kieran. Midir. Whoever he is behind all the names and behind the beautiful face, no matter how long he's lived or what he's done. There's something in him that is also in me, and we understand each other. We just know.
I can't think about this right now. Why am I thinking about this? We need to get out, and then I can deal with my confusing, contradictory self.
"Aislinn," he says, breaking me out of my reverie. "Look."
He's pointing down a short side passage, one that I passed earlier but didn't go down. There's a narrow, horizontal window in the wall of the passage, and we stagger toward it, hoping against hope, although I already know it can't be an outside window, not this far underground.
It's the kind of window that looks down, down into a massive concrete chamber. In the center of the chamber is a girl, chained by the wrists and ankles, with another chain locked around her waist. The chains are enormous, bolted and welded into the walls. They seem ridiculously out of proportion for the sparrow-like girl between them.
"Oh my gosh. We have to help her."
He doesn't protest, although I'm sure the last thing he wants to do is stay here a minute more than he has to. Just the fact that he isn't thinking all about himself right now, in his broken-up state, gives him extra points in my book.
There's a door in the wall next to the narrow window. It's also massive, with huge combination locks designed to keep something in. The spinner knobs on the locks have been partly worn down from use; this door has been here for many years.
"Láidreacht." I whisper my strength spell and wrench at the locks. Even with the fenodyree's strength, I can't do it. I prop Kieran against the wall and strain to twist them free; and then I hit them with all my force, almost breaking my knuckles. I cry out a little in pain.
What if I could transport in there with her?
I focus on the room where she is, on a spot near her. And I will myself there, with all my power.
But nothing happens. Whatever is keeping us from transporting to the outside, also prevents transporting from place to place inside, at least in the lower levels. I suppose the upstairs didn't have as much warding, which is why I could transport back and forth up there. Down here, it's a different story— a terrible story that might not end well for any of us.
"I can't do it," I admit to Kieran.
"We can come back for her." He is white under the bloodstains, holding his bruised ribs in both arms. I hope he doesn't have internal bleeding. He can't heal himself, but if I can get him to a hospital, or find his friend Ériu—
A faint sound comes from behind the thick door. I duck to the window in time to see the girl in the room screaming, the muscles of her neck standing out, face scarlet with strain. She's shrieking with all her might, and the room is so soundproof that we only hear a blurred echo of it.
I can't stand it, being here unable to help while someone is hurting like that, right in front of my eyes. But I don't have a choice.
And then something happens.
Long, twisting strands of dark matter unfurl from around the girl, like smoky tentacles. They lash and whip, and wrap themselves around her body, round and round, building layers upon layers and smothering her, burying her in the center of it all.
I've seen this. Hell, I've been through it more times than I can count.
This girl is Korrigan, and with the coming of dawn outside this place, she is changing into a beast.
"Kieran!"
"I see it."
"Did you know?"
"No."
The last strands of dark matter settle into place, and the monster is here, transported from whatever dark world it lives in. When Zane described my beast to me once— reluctantly— he mentioned that it was white, with a long neck— like the ones I used to see in my nightmares. This monster is huge, hulking black, with spiny protrusions like coarse hair all over its hunched shoulders and its sloping back and its massive clawed paws. Its snout is snubbed, wrinkled, grotesque, it six eyes tiny and malevolent. Something like a cross between the biggest grizzly bear ever, and a spider, and a panther. And a demon.
The chains that were attached to the girl are still in place. They run through the body of the creature, right down to its core, holding it still. Every time it writhes or wrenches at the chains, they glow with a sickly, unearthly light.
"They're warded," whispers Kieran. "To keep it under control."
I can only assume this Korrigan is one of the missing. There were a few who died, or were thought dead, or committed suicide— Maeve and the others were never very clear to me about what happened.
And then there was Wynnie— a half-human, half-Korrigan hybrid like me, only without the druid blood. She couldn't handle life past the first century or so, and started destroying her brain with every illegal substance she could get her hands on. And so, eventually, she lost track of the days she had left— failed to Life-Steal in time. She transformed in the early morning hours at a party house in California and was taken away by soldiers with an armored truck. Or so the Korrigan told me— but who knows if it was even true.
If it was, could this be her? How did she get here?
"Why would they keep her here?" I ask Kieran.
"No idea," he gasps. "But Aislinn— I—" He slides down the wall, collapsing onto the floor.
I crouch beside him. "Kieran!"
His forehead is coated with glistening sweat, and he's still holding his mid-section. They've really hurt him. I have to get him out of here.
I whisper my strength spell again and pick him up, one arm under his shoulders and another under his legs; and I run down the hallway. He's too weak to protest— a dead weight in my arms. If I keep this up for too long, I'll go crazy from the magical effort, and I won't be able to think clearly enough to escape. I have to make the minutes count.
But it's too late. We wasted precious time watching the Korrigan transform. Three men in polo shirts and khakis round the corner ahead, coming from the elevator. They look like middle-aged professionals heading out for breakfast, or an early morning tee time. Except that this is their underground lair, in which they keep things like half-crazed Korrigan and mythical Fae tricksters.
"Fear Dearg," says one, shaking his head. He's taller and older than the other two, with a heavy belly and heavy face that might once have been attractive. "What are you doing? Letting a woman carry you? Pathetic."
My eyes dart to their necks, where each one wears a bloodstained medallion of a Celtic shield knot. Wards. The Far Darrig's magic won't work on them, even if he had enough strength to perform a
ny enchantments.
And I'm already feeling lightheaded from trying to break through the dungeon door, and from carrying Kieran down the hall.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, setting him down but keeping his arm across my shoulders.
"It's all right." He staggers toward the druids, moving me behind him. His wavy hair hangs over his bloodstained forehead, and he stands stiffly, partly bent, like he can barely push through the pain. It's laughable really, that he's trying to protect me in this state, when I'm much stronger, with greater powers.
Still, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Your feud is with me," he says. "Leave her out of this. Let her go."
"But this is the Byrne girl," says the leader of the group, stepping forward with his hands out. "Welcome, Aislinn. We have been eager to meet you— the first of our race to gather power from other Fae. You are truly a unique creature, and you are in no danger from us."
Something in the smiles of the other men tells me that's not quite true.
The heavy man casts a derisive look at Kieran. "You see, Aislinn is one of us, Far Darrig, and you are not. Pretending is not being."
Kieran laughs bitterly. "When are you going to let that go? It's been a very long time."
"You soiled the name of druid. Tied your unholy powers to our name, tricked our queen and cursed her, and befriended an outcast of our sect. Since then, you have wandered the world with the foul race, the leprechauns. You are no better than the scrapings of a madman's chamber pot."
Kieran laughs again. "Have you no better insults than that? You weren't even there, young one. You're carrying a grudge that's as old and stupid as your ancestors!"
The heavy man lunges forward and strikes Kieran in the face, knocking him off his feet. He lands on his side, facing away from them, toward me. I leap forward, kneeling beside him.
Suddenly, from the direction of the Korrigan's prison, I hear a voice— urgent, panicked. "She's out! She broke out! Run!" Then there's a kind of gurgling roar and a scream, and a smacking sound.
The three druids turn, panic on their faces. Instead of running toward the screams and roars, they head back toward the elevator, legs pumping as fast as they can go.
I hear a wheezing sound beside me and I look at Kieran in a panic. But he's actually grinning, the bloodstains around his mouth puckering weirdly as he does. He's laughing.
"Let's go," he whispers. "It won't be long before they realize it was me."
I help him up, and we move forward, jerkily, but as fast as we can go, down the same hall that the terrible noises came from. Kieran must have thrown his voice— after all, he can make other sounds besides human ones. How did he have the strength for that roar? How is he moving at all now?
There's a door ahead. A stairwell. Metal steps leading up. One at a time, we climb them. My brain is screaming at me to hurry, hurry, hurry— but there's no way Kieran can go any faster. I start to speak the strength spell again, to help him, but he puts his bruised hand over my mouth. "No. You need your wits for this, and if you keep using magic you won't be able to help me, or yourself."
"I know, but we're going to get caught. We need to go faster."
"Aislinn." He stops, leaning against the wall on the landing, breathing hard. "I can't believe you came here for me. I'm so grateful. But right now, you need to go. You need to leave before they catch up. Go to the top, find a window or an exit and transport."
"Look what they've done to you." I barely know where to touch him without causing him pain. "They will kill you."
"Maybe. But it's more important to me that you're safe. Please, just go."
"You're insane." I seize his arm, ignoring the low moan he makes when I throw it over my shoulders again. "I'm getting you out of here if it kills both of us."
"Doesn't that defeat your whole purpose here?"
"No, because both of us would be dead. That would be all right. Just one of us dying isn't an option."
"You're not making sense."
"If you— died—" I have to speak in clipped phrases from the effort of hoisting him up the stairs. "I would still be here. In the world. Without you. And that's— not an option."
"Aislinn." That low, beautiful voice in my ear. I ignore the flutters in my heart, the agony in my shoulders and arms and knees, and I keep working. One step. One more step. Just one more.
Then we're at the top. There's another landing, and a metal ladder leading to an iron door in the ceiling. Through the small, grime-coated window in the door, past yet another painted ward, I see faint daylight. This must be an emergency exit of some kind, straight to the woods.
But it's impossible for Kieran to get up that ladder in his current state. And my arms and legs are trembling so hard I can't control them. I sink to the floor with Kieran beside me, and we sit panting, with our backs to the wall.
"All you have to do is get it open," he says.
Of course. He doesn't have to climb the ladder. If I open the door, there will be a break in the warding, a clear channel— and then I can climb back down to him and transport both of us.
Come on, legs and arms. One more push.
I'm staggering to my feet, climbing the first rungs.
But I hear feet on the stairs, several pairs of them. I climb faster, buoyed by sudden adrenaline. It's too late. Hands are pulling me down. Other hands seize the Far Darrig— he doesn't even try to resist. I think he's unconscious.
I failed.
Instead of using my words for a spell to protect myself, I use them to beg, "Don't hurt him. Please don't hurt him anymore."
As I'm speaking, something hits the back of my head. Pain, blackness.
18
TRY
Zane
My bedroom door bangs open, almost making me jump out of my boxers. "Whoa, hey!"
"Okay, that's it!" It's Ada's voice. So loud, so annoying. "We're dealing with this, right now."
"Hey, what are you doing? Did you pick my lock?"
"Heck yes, I did." She fans her hand in front of her nose. "It's a biohazard site up in here. Z, what is wrong with you, letting it get like this?"
I turn back to my computer. "I don't care."
"You should care. You're living in a pile of stinky socks and stinkier underwear and leftover— what is this?" She holds up a bowl of something that was probably once ice cream with chocolate syrup. It doesn't look or smell anything like that now.
I hunch further into my hoodie and go back to my game. Ada comes up behind me and spins my computer chair around so fast I bang my knee into the desk, hard.
"Ow! Geez, go away. Pest!"
"Roach!"
"Why you bein' so mean to me? I got my heart broken, you know."
"And I'm not saying 'I told you so,' am I?"
"You just did."
She sighs and sits down on the bed. "Look, Z, I know you've had a rough run with girls lately. First Laurel, now Aislinn. But you gotta look at this and realize something about yourself, little bro. You fall too hard and too fast, and then you get all broken up when it doesn't work out."
"Love at first sight is crap, and girls suck at being loyal. They're just heartless. Cold."
"I don't know Aislinn very well, but she didn't strike me as the heartless type. More of the confused, abused type. You know whatever she's been through better than I do, but there's some damage there. She needs somebody who understands damage, Z."
"I got damage," I mutter.
"I know it hurts right now," she says. "But I'm talking about another kind of damage. You've had a good life so far, Z. Not too much really tragic stuff. I mean, sure, all our grandparents except Gram are dead, and that was rough; but otherwise you and Kali and I— we've had it good. I think maybe she needs someone who gets whatever she's going through a little better."
"I thought I could help her," I whisper. "I thought we were doing good."
"I know. You guys were cute together. But Z, you can find somebody better— somebody who's gonna give you
her whole heart, not just a piece of it."
She stands up. "In the meantime, you shower and brush your teeth, while I clean this room. And Mom says no more video games today. Go for a run or something; you'll feel better." She glances around. "Gonna need a freaking hazmat suit to clean this business up. Kali, you come in here and help me!"
My little sister's face peeks around the doorframe. "Is it safe?"
"He's taking most of the smell with him to the shower," Ada says. "It's safe enough."
I growl and grumble, collecting clean underwear and clothes before I head to the bathroom. But really all I want to do is thank them— those annoying, know-it-all, bossy, beloved sisters of mine.
A hot shower is the best thing in the world, next to sex and a good meal. It's incredible how that hot water beating down on my body for a while makes me feel like a new man. By the time I step out, I feel amazing. I look at myself in the mirror, and I look good. Practicing a few flexes and smiles gets me feeling even better.
I'm hot stuff. I'm a catch. I'm going to college and there's gonna be hundreds of girls, and they're all gonna want a date with me. Forget Aislinn— I'm moving on. I'm chill now, I'm good— no more moping for me.
When I get out of the bathroom, I walk straight to the kitchen and open the fridge, ready to fuel my upbeat mood with a snack.
And there it is, sitting on the refrigerator shelf all alone. A single can of Diet Coke.
Instantly I flash back to that first day, Aislinn's First Day. Her in the store. Buying the Diet Coke. Me teasing her about the artificial sweeteners. Her smiling that shy smile, those green eyes sparkling at me for the first time.
The pain in my heart is so bad it feels physical, like somebody just slashed across my chest with a knife. I back away and let the fridge close.
Good mood gone, I wander back to my room. The girls worked fast— all the leftovers and soda cans and dirty laundry are gone, and my stuff has been stacked neatly instead of sitting in tumbled piles. Ada is vacuuming, so I just stand there till she's done.
When she turns around, she's about to say something when she sees my face. I see the pity in her eyes, but I don't mind, cause there's love too. She drops the vacuum handle, walks right up to me, and gives me the biggest hug.
Druid (Secrets of the Fae Book 2) Page 15