by E. E. Holmes
“Huh,” Finn grunted, pondering this theory. “Interesting. No blood, no connection.”
“Interesting, sure, but really inconvenient,” I pointed out. “Catriona was supposed to guide me through the príosún while I was Walking. Now, without her instructions, I’m just going to be wandering aimlessly with no idea how to navigate the place. What started out as difficult is starting to feel impossible.”
Footsteps echoed on a staircase nearby. Both of us jumped with fright.
“Not impossible,” Finn said quickly. “Meet me at four o’clock on the second sub-level cell block. That’s two floors down from the ground floor. Don’t pass too closely to the cell doors on the first basement level: that’s a spirit block, and they’ll be able to see you. My shift will be ending then, and I’ll be rotating to another floor. If you follow me, I’ll take you right by the Caomhnóir sleeping quarters and common areas so you can check them out unseen. I’ll point out a few of the Caomhnóir who have been acting suspiciously, so that you can tail them. But it will be up to you to make your way back up here and into your body, though, by the time they start the morning rotation at seven o’clock. That’s when you’ll be brought to the showers and outside for a walk, so you must be back in your body by then.”
I squeezed his hand gratefully. “Thank you, Finn. Thank you for helping me with this.”
“The sooner you find out what’s going on, the sooner you’ll be out of here safe and sound. That’s all I care about,” he replied, his voice gruff with emotion. “And this time, I’m going with you. I will not be parted from you again. Not for the Gateways. Not for anything. Code of Conduct be damned right to the depths of hell where it bloody well belongs.” He pressed his lips to the top of my hand. A violent ache of longing shuddered through my body.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Keep yourself safe.”
“I love you, too,” I managed to choke out over the tears now welling in my eyes and spilling over onto the floor. “We’ll keep each other safe.”
He pressed his lips to my hand one more time. “Four o’clock. Second basement level.”
His face disappeared from the gap in the door. Out in the hallway, I heard him jump to his feet and march away. I closed my eyes and did not move for a long time, trying to preserve the sensation of his hand upon mine.
* * *
I reach beyond my body’s door and yet retain the key, to Walk awhile amongst the dead and then return again. ↵
17
Betrayal
HANNAH, MILO, AND CATRIONA, who had been waiting in alarm and panic since I’d closed the connection, were relieved to hear that Finn had found me, and they all approved of Finn’s suggested plan.
“It isn’t ideal, of course. He can’t risk communicating with you openly, and he can’t deviate from his duties, or the leadership will get suspicious,” Catriona complained via Hannah. “But it’s a much better option than sending you out there on your own.”
“Oh, my heart can’t take it,” Milo groaned.
“Can’t take what?” I asked him.
“You and him! A stolen moment of holding hands through the gap in a prison door? That is some Russian tragedy shit right there. You two are a star-crossed love story of epic proportions, sweetness.”
“Yeah well, if you ask me, epic love stories are great in theory, but they suck in reality,” I said, unable to mask my bitterness in the raw emotional atmosphere of the connection. “Give me a boring old uninteresting love story any day.”
“I’m not trying to minimize your pain, sweetness,” Milo said, and his energy was tremulous and gentle. “I’m just expressing my prediction that you’re due for a happy ending.”
“I’ve never hoped more that you were right,” I said to him. “Thanks, Milo.”
I lay down and tried to close my eyes, but sleep was a possibility that was entirely out of my reach. I tossed and turned, watching the moonlight slip in and out from behind the clouds, and listening to the random restless sounds of the prisoners in the surrounding cells. I found myself wondering who they were, and what the hell they had done that was so terrible that they had landed themselves here. I also began to wonder, a bit uncomfortably, what it said about the Durupinen that we maintained such a place. It didn’t seem that any human being who had to stay here for any considerable length of time would be much of a human when they finally were free. And that was a crime of its own, wasn’t it?
Hannah and Milo regularly updated me on the time, and when it finally drew close to three-thirty, we decided it was time for me to go. Better to be there early, and have to wait around for a bit, than to risk the possibility of missing Finn altogether. After all, he would not be able to see me in Walker form, and he would have to simply trust that I had arrived at the time and place that we had agreed to meet. If I showed myself to him, I risked showing myself to any other Caomhnóir who might be nearby, and that was a risk that I could not take.
I used the second of my stash of soul catchers to slip my physical bonds and Walk once more. It was even easier the second time than it had been the first—less disorientating, and even more blissful. Although I knew that Catriona had disabled the Castings, I still found myself trying to make my energy as small and unobtrusive as possible as I approached and attempted to pass through the cell door. But I needn’t have worried. In this particular case, Catriona’s smug confidence was completely warranted. I slipped through the door as though it were nothing and found myself on the other side in the long, dank corridor of the cellblock.
I drifted forward, envisioning myself occupying each new step along the path, so that I would not move too quickly and disorient myself. It was tricky at first, and I seemed to move in a jarring pattern of starts and stops, like someone attempting to drive a car for the first time by just slamming alternately on the gas and the brakes. I forced myself to slow down, and by the time I reached the staircase at the end of the cellblock, I was moving more smoothly and predictably.
Curious though I was, I had no intention of stopping along the way and sneaking a peek at who was being kept inside the other cells on my floor. Not only did I think it would be too disturbing to see them in various states of mental disarray, but I did not want to risk that one of them would be a Durupinen powerful enough to sense me, even as I did my best to keep my energy cloaked.
Just as I began to descend the staircase, I heard the boots behind me of the Caomhnóir making his rounds on our cellblock. I knew that he would not be able to see me, but nevertheless, I pressed my energy into as small and shadowy a space as I could manage as I waited for him to reverse direction and walk back to the other end of the block. He barely glanced into the cells as he passed them, his expression bored and sleepy. As he made his turn past the very last cell door, a voice cried out, and the sound of it sent a shard of ice cold fear right through my being.
“Back off, you useless bollard!” the voice shouted. “What’s a woman got to do around here to get a clean glass of water? No one in their right mind would drink the filth that comes out of these taps. Are you listening to me? Dogs!”
I suddenly felt so full of tension, so full of shock, that my newly concentrated form might just explode with the force of it. I knew that voice. I knew that voice, and if I knew the woman it belonged to, then something was going to hit that door in three… two…
Bang.
Oh my God. Fiona.
I stayed obscured where I was until I was sure that the Caomhnóir on patrol was going to ignore the outburst. When his footsteps had died away in the opposite direction, I propelled myself forward until I was hovering just outside the window of Fiona’s cell.
Fiona sat on the corner of the bed, massaging her knees with her hands and mumbling a steady stream of profanity under her breath. Her hair, unkempt on the best of days, hung lank and greasy against her head, and her eyes were heavily shadowed with exhaustion.
I willed myself into a visible form. It took several tries to remember how to communicate in my
Walker form, but after a few failed attempts, I managed to whisper her name.
“Fiona!”
Fiona’s head shot up and she stared wildly around for the source of the sound. When her eyes finally found my face in the window, her jaw dropped and she leapt to her feet.
“Christ on a bike!” she cried, and instantly slapped a hand over her own mouth, horrified at her outburst. She pulled it away again and said, in a barely audible whisper, “Jessica?! But… how… I don’t…”
“It’s okay, don’t panic!” I told her, crossing the plane of her door and arriving inside her cell. “It’s not what it looks like. I’m Walking.”
A brief shadow of relief passed over Fiona’s features, replaced almost immediately with renewed terror. “But I still don’t understand how—”
“I’m here undercover. When you didn’t come back, we knew something must be wrong. We knew the prophecy must be coming to a head faster than we imagined possible. So, the Trackers sent me in to try to unravel what’s been happening.”
“But, surely you didn’t Walk all the way from Fairhaven!” Fiona gasped.
I shook my head. “No. That would have been impossible. I’m not experienced enough to Walk that far from my body, and anyway, the further a Walker travels, the thinner the bonds connecting her to her body are stretched. That was one of the many mistakes the Travelers made with Irina. She Walked too far for too long and forgot who she was. The distance was part of what drove her mad.”
“So, your body is inside the príosún, then?” Fiona murmured. “But… how?”
“Catriona just whipped up a quick little false arrest scenario. It was pretty easy to convince people I’d done something that warranted jail time, seeing what a universal pain in the ass I am,” I said with a shrug. “The plan is for me to assess the situation in here and get out again before things go too far south. But I’m starting to think it might be a bit late for that,” I added, looking Fiona over once more. “What happened to you, Fiona? The príosún reported back that you’d gone home to take care of your mother, but we knew that couldn’t be true.”
Fiona snorted. “Well, they were looking in the wrong bloody place, weren’t they? Dogs! I knew something was wrong the moment I arrived. The Caomhnóir leadership were… jumpy. Edgy, like. They all seemed real eager to get me out of here, and they weren’t interested in even looking at the petition I’d brought on my mother’s behalf. They brought me into a room—I’m not even sure what it was—a booking room, maybe? Then they started asking me all these strange questions about why I’d come and who I’d told about my trip. I asked them over and over again if I could see my mother, and they just kept giving me the runaround. Finally, I threatened to get the rest of the Council involved and they agreed to take me to where my mother was being held.”
A muffled bang echoed through the hallway. Fiona shuffled over to the door and peered through her window for a sign of the Caomhnóir, but the corridor was deserted. She turned back to me, her back pressed against the door, and continued in a hushed voice.
“They might have placated me with a quick visit and a promise for a hasty release, but then, on our way to my mother’s cell block, I spotted that bastard, Charlie Wright.”
“Charlie?!” I gasped, my entire form shuddering and blinking with fear. “Where did you… what was he…”
“A Caomhnóir was walking him across the courtyard, handcuffs in place,” Fiona explained. “Most of the prisoners get time to walk around the courtyard, just for some fresh air and exercise, but not usually the high security ones. Necromancers, for instance, are not allowed such privileges. That pulled me up short. What was he doing outside of his cell, especially given the gravity of what he’d just been charged with? Still, I thought he might just be getting transferred to a different cell, or else being brought somewhere to face more interrogation. I might have let it go if it weren’t for the branding.”
“What branding?” I asked her. “What are you talking about?”
“This place is so full of old and new magic, of Castings upon Castings, that all of the Caomhnóir assigned here are branded with a protective rune when they arrive.”
“But, when you say branded…” I began, a horror rising in me that even my lack of physical response couldn’t weaken, “you don’t actually mean…”
“I mean branded!” Fiona snapped. “Like goddamn highland cattle, with red hot iron on their flesh! It’s one of the only ways to permanently protect them from the negative effects of so much protective magic in one place! They used to use tattoos, but even those lost efficacy over time. And who do you suppose had a freshly changed bandage in the very spot on the arm where the branding is applied?”
I felt a shudder of horror. “Charlie Wright.”
“Absolutely,” Fiona replied. “That was the moment I knew that your vision was unfolding right before my very eyes, and that we had not a moment to waste. But that realization came too late in the game for old Fiona, I’m afraid.” Her lips pressed together in a rueful grimace. “The Caomhnóir escorting me noticed my preoccupation with Charlie. He must have realized that I’d caught on to something and so, instead of taking me to see my mum, they stashed me away here without so much as a pretext for doing it. Haven’t spoken a word to me since.”
“Didn’t you hear us this morning when we came in? Catriona was right out in that hallway! Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.
Fiona shook her head. “I didn’t hear her or anyone else, for that matter. The yellow bastards drugged my food. I was passed out cold until about an hour ago. I’m sure they did it just to ensure they could get Catriona in and out without raising her suspicions.”
“And your mother?” I asked anxiously.
“I’ve got no idea,” Fiona said, and her mask of disgust slipped just a bit to reveal true fear underneath. “Not sure if she’s still here, or what kind of state she’s in. She’s been waiting for me for days now. She must be so confused.”
“But your story makes it sound like all of the Caomhnóir are working with the Necromancers now,” I said. “And that can’t be true. Finn says he still doesn’t know what’s happening.”
“Finn? You’ve spoken to Finn?” Fiona asked sharply.
“Yes,” I said. “He saw me come in this morning with Catriona, and snuck up here on his way to his shift to see me.”
“How much have you told him?” Fiona asked.
I frowned at the oddness of the question. “Everything. I told him everything.”
Fiona groaned and dropped her face into her hands. “Foolish girl.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I asked, bristling with an anger that made my form tingle with a crackling warmth.
“Jessica,” Fiona said, and her voice was gentler than I expected. “You have to consider the possibility that Finn is subject to the same weaknesses as the others. How can you be sure that he hasn’t been compromised?”
I laughed. “Finn? In league with Necromancers? Absolutely not.”
“But how do you know?” Fiona repeated.
“Because I know him!” I cried, my voice rising above our carefully controlled volume for the first time. I took a moment to master myself before I continued. “I know him, Fiona.”
“People change.”
“Not him. Not like this.”
“A place like this can do terrible things to a person,” Fiona said, still pressing.
My frustration peaked, causing my form to flicker and fade as I fought to maintain it. “Fiona, if you think he’s so untrustworthy, then why did you come all the way here just on his word? Why did you agree to try to find him and talk to him while you were here? That was mere days ago, and now all of a sudden, you think he’s a traitor?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore!” Fiona hissed.
“Well, lucky for the both of us, I do,” I said bluntly. “I trust Finn Carey and I would stake my life on his honor.”
“You’d better hope you’re right, becaus
e you’ve just staked all our lives on it,” Fiona said.
“I’ll take that wager,” I said coolly. “Gladly.”
Fiona slumped and threw up her hands, resigning herself to my stubbornness. “Well, assuming your Mr. Carey is telling the truth, the coup has been gradual and all but silent. I don’t know how it started, but it’s infected the highest ranks of the Caomhnóir here. I was personally questioned by Eamon Gallows, the highest-ranking officer at the príosún. I’ve no doubt that it’s on his orders that I’ve been locked up, which means he’s certainly turned.”
“But how can some of the Caomhnóir be working with the Necromancers while the others know nothing about it?”
“They’ll have been careful about recruiting from within the ranks. They will have felt people out gradually and individually to ensure that they weren’t discovered. I don’t doubt they’ve been at it for months, maybe even years. There are plenty of Caomhnóir here who resent their lot in life and would jump at the opportunity to break free of this place. The hatred of the Durupinen runs deep with some of them. It’s toxic, and the Necromancers have banked on that toxicity to garner support.”
“Support for what?” I asked desperately. “What are they trying to do?”
“I wish I knew the answer to that,” Fiona said, rubbing wearily at her temples. “It may be that they have no formal plan yet. But the endgame for Necromancers is always the same: overthrow Durupinen control of the Gateways. It’s been their goal since time immemorial, and subverting the Caomhnóir is a damn brilliant way to go about it.”
“Catriona is afraid that some of the Fairhaven Caomhnóir might be in on it, too,” I said.
“Hmm.” Fiona tapped at her chin thoughtfully. “It’s possible, I suppose, but I doubt it. I was there when they drafted the communication to Seamus, claiming that I was back home in Scotland with my mother. If Seamus was part of the conspiracy, they surely would have told him where I was, wouldn’t they?”