TORN: (The Fire Born Novels, Book Two)

by Laney McMann

  Sleep. Heal.

  It would have been nice to know what I was healing—or trying to heal—from. It would have been nice to turn my brain off—to understand what had happened to me—to my life. A weakness had penetrated my bones, filling me to the brim, and the pain in my arms remained like a constant humming vibration through my veins.

  My grandmother entered my bedroom from the hall, her arms wrapped around two large pots with half-dead flowers hanging limp and haphazardly from them. Placing the plants in the sunlight near the wide, open air of the window, she righted herself with a sigh. A much more determined, assertive sound followed her release of breath, and I knew without looking toward the door, that my mother had also entered my room.

  “Teine.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Teine. How are you feeling?” The compassion in my mother’s voice was only the second hint of sincere emotion I’d heard from her since the morning she’d walked out and left Max and me to fight alone. Since she’d made her plea for us to separate, and I’d learned she’d been washing my memory, hiding me from who and what I was, and keeping me from Max.

  I glanced over, only my eyes shifting to meet her gaze. Part of me wanted to scream at her for standing so nonchalantly in the Underground. As if she hadn’t kept me from my grandmother for years before now—as if it was commonplace for the three of us to be in the same room together. I wanted to yell, but I couldn’t muster the energy. It seemed so trivial. My mother’s lies and betrayal. Who and what I was. Without Max, all of it was meaningless.

  “Mother… might I have a moment alone with my daughter?” She edged her way into the bedroom.

  The unseeing whites of my grandmother’s eyes didn’t waver. “The days of my trusting you have long since fled. Say what you will in my presence, or not at all.”

  My mother bowed dutifully, as though to a Queen, a flash of humility crossing her expression, before she directed her attention back to me. “Teine. You must find a way to mend the Tear.”

  “Stop this,” my grandmother hissed. “We do not know a Tear exists.”

  “Even you can see what is happening!” my mother yelled. “Everything is dying! Shadows are looming beyond the Underground’s walls, and in the World of Light. The forest is withering. There is no other explanation. The infirmary is full to capacity with the sick and ailing. Teine must stop this.”

  What?

  “I must ? How is this my fault? And how do I stop anything? You’re keeping me here like a prisoner! I didn’t create the Tie to begin with, so I have no idea how to fix it!”

  I glanced toward the pots my grandmother had brought in. Gardenias. Alive, but barely.

  Watching the dimming red sun bleed across their white petals until it almost disappeared into night, I let out a defeated breath. “I’ve tried everything I can think of, Mother. Max isn’t responding. He can’t hear me anymore.” The words stuck in my throat—words that killed me to admit, but other than the weird dreams, Max hadn’t answered me when I called his name in my thoughts. “What’s happening?”

  “We are not sure, Kindred, but it is not something I wish for you to worry yourself with right now.” My grandmother shot an evil glare at my mother and tucked the blankets in around my legs.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d heard my mother speak about dying, although no one had properly explained what she meant. I’d wracked my brain, trying to understand how I could be the cause of the forward momentum of devastation she said had been unleashed on the Otherworld. Clearly, no one knew what a Tear could cause. I’d assumed that as long as one Light Bearer, me or my mother, lived, it would be enough to protect the Realm, but as my mother continued wringing her hands, her expression wan, it was clear that my Light was the only one that mattered, and I guessed it was no longer a shield against the penetrating darkness.

  Keeping my eyes toward the dwindling gardenias, their flailing limbs flayed out of the earthenware pots, everything seemed to be dying, and as the weakness creeping through my limbs continued, I couldn’t help but wonder if I wasn’t dying, too. Maybe that was the problem.

  The reason the Shadows were seeping in.

  With a sigh, I traced my finger across the strands of the entwined bracelets snaking my wrist, the soft, worn leather still gleaming as if it were new, and walked from the bed past my mother, standing in front of the large open window. Cool sea spray swept across my face and stung my eyes. The night sky seemed immense without the glare of city lights destroying it. Thousands of stars looked back in the distance, shining from a vast, never ending place.

  Rocky Irish cliffs stretched for miles below where I stood. My gaze followed the way the moon’s glow shed light along their jagged, hazardous faces, and a brilliant flicker caught my attention in the darkness. A light flashed from the cliffside before disappearing again into the night. Squinting to see, I leaned out of the window, staring into darkness but saw nothing. I glanced over my shoulder, curious if either my mother or grandmother had noticed anything. Both looked at me expectantly—maybe they were waiting for me to jump—but seemed otherwise unaware of anything unusual. The light flashed again from my periphery, and I turned my head just in time to catch it skirt across the window frame I was leaning against before it faded away.

  Keeping my stare focused on a higher vantage point of the cliff face, the light flickered across my face. It appeared as though it was a tiny reflection of the pure white moon. I turned again, facing my mother and grandmother.

  “Excuse me while I go to the bathroom.” Positive my manner was far too formal, I wondered whether my mother would stop me before I made it to the bedroom door. She didn’t.

  Inside the bathroom, I allowed my anger, so close to the surface still, to surge upward and spread through my veins, my body, and I shifted into the Raven and flew out the small window overlooking the Irish Sea.

  No one knew how to find the Underground. It was impenetrable, but as I flew closer to the flash of light in the distance, I realized I was wrong. One person, at least, did know how to find it.

  Hovering in mid-air, unsure if I should fly any closer, I eyed the moonlight’s eerie glow cast off of a clawed talon gripping the edge of the cliff. A horned head protruded from the rock face, bloody gashes and cuts visible along Justice’s shoulders, chest, and neck.

  Landing cautiously, I pulled my wings in tight, and eyed the gargoyle.

  He squatted down in a hidden crevice, clearly favoring one leg, and held a small mirror in his taloned hand. Edging over in the tight space, he allowed me further entry, but I backed up a step, staying out of his reach.

  His dark eyes shifted to mine. “I would never hurt you. You don’t have to back up like that,” he said in a rough voice. “Benny sent me.” His eyes were wide, panic stricken and bewildered.

  I scooted farther back.

  He sighed. “Benny’s worried. Maybe she doesn’t show it in the right way, but she wants you to be safe.”

  I eyed him. She’d left me during the attack. Her being concerned enough to send anyone to find me seemed laughable.

  “I’ve been trying to find you. Didn’t you hear me yelling for you the day of the attack?” He sounded irritated. “You need my help.” Bowing his head, he said, “Layla, my brother is unconscious. I don’t know if he’ll survive.” His voice cracked. “Grandma Mac doesn’t even know. Sam went AWOL.” His eyes met mine. “Max …” He shook his head. “You don’t understand—he’s all I have left. I have to find him.”

  His sincerity surprised me, and I found a lump swelling in my throat as I tried to hold back tears. Eyeing him, I stepped to the edge of the cliff’s crevice.

  “I know you don’t know me that well, and you have no reason to trust me after what Sam did, but I swear to you that I’ll protect you. It’s what I … it’s what Max will expect me to do.” His eyes were pleading, wide and honest. “Let me help.”

  Allowing his words to simmer for a minute, I nodded once, and dropped from the cliff into the cool night a
ir, my wings spread wide, coasting on the wind.

  Justice flew down beside me, his massive black wings stretched out, a grin of relief showing in his otherwise monstrous horned face.

  6

  My mother backed up as Justice and I landed on the windowsill in my bedroom in the Underground beside her. Justice collapsed onto the ground, instantly shifting into his human form, and my grandmother shuffled to his side.

  “Gargoyles?” My mother shrilled. “Again? Did I not tell you these … creatures could not be trusted? Their leader is the reason we’re in this mess, and now you’ve led this one into the Underground!”

  “Stop yelling,” my grandmother said. “I sent for him. I’ll be the one assuming responsibility for any repercussions of that action.” She helped Justice to my bed, where he crumpled down. “Justice, child, where have you been? I sent word to Berneen days ago.”

  Huh?

  “It took me forever to find the place.” He lay back, groaning. “I’ve been flying for days. Thankfully, Layla spotted me.”

  My grandmother uttered a tsk-tsk before she said, “It isn’t that difficult to find the Underground if you know where to look.”

  “It is in the dark, trying to avoid all the henchmen you have guarding this place. Look at me.” He pointed to his cuts and bruises, but I knew my grandmother couldn’t see them. “I’m lucky to be here at all. Didn’t you let the Guard know I was coming? I could’ve been killed.”

  My grandmother chuckled. “Killed? Do not exaggerate. If I alert my guards to your approach, why, they could allow anyone to pass through the doorways.” She shuffled off, shaking her head. “You have always been quite able to fend for yourself.”

  “She asked you to come?” The shock in my voice was audible.

  “Yeah.” He rubbed his forehead, moaning. “Her directions were terrible, though, and it’s not like I come here often.”

  “I can hear you,” my grandmother said from the other room.

  “If she could actually see all this blood,” Justice lowered his voice, “she wouldn’t be so nonchalant about my practically getting killed out there.” He thrust his hand toward the window.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “She sent for you? My grandmother?”

  “That’s what I said.” The know-it-all tone I’d come to associate with Justice grated my on nerves.

  “You know my grandmother?”

  He motioned between the two of us “Am I not communicating properly?”

  I let out an exhale, as my grandmother approached holding a tray with a glass of ice water, cut up apples, and gauze with rubbing alcohol. She set the tray on the bedside table and removed the untouched one she’d left for me the day before. “Eat.” She pointed at Justice. “We need to get your strength back up. And Teine’s, too, for that matter.” She glanced toward me. “Our whole world is at stake, Kindred. Your mother is right—we have a large issue at hand.”

  My mother said nothing, only stood rigid, and staring, at Justice.

  My grandmother scooted to the window-seat and sank down onto the cushion. “Lorelei, you can relax now. The gargoyle is not going to attack you.”

  My mother made a scornful noise and stood near the doorway.

  “Now, tell me, Justice,” my grandmother said. “What have we missed?” An odd gleam showed in the whites of her eyes as she rubbed her wrinkled hands together.

  Justice shoved a slice of apple in his mouth, followed by another, and another. “Grandma Mac has reset all the boundary lines around the safe houses, including yours.” He nodded toward my mother, who glared at him.

  “I can reset my own boundaries,” she snapped.

  My grandmother waved a hand. “Now there’s no need. It’s been taken care of.”

  My mother rolled her eyes, and walked out of the room.

  “Good. We won’t have any more interruptions. Continue, child.”

  “The Fomore won’t be able to break through the barriers again, so we can rest easy about that. We have a gatekeeper now.” He smiled and chugged the water in one gulp.

  My stomach dropped to my feet. Gatekeeper?

  “I’m glad to know that Mairsale has sprung into action. Of course, she would move heaven and earth for MacKenzie. She has always been more than his guardian. Lorelei, dear,” she said, raising her voice. “Could you please bring Justice more to drink?” My grandmother grinned a devilish smile. “Please continue, child,” she said. “A gatekeeper did you say?” Her eyebrows scrunched.

  “Agrona.” He smirked. “She owes Grandma Mac a favor.”

  Feeling like I might throw up, I immediately reached for the edge of the bed.

  “Can she be trusted?”

  “Grandma Mac says she wouldn’t dare cross her.”

  “Let us hope not, or we will have an even larger problem to contend with. Agrona is many things. Trusted friend is not one of them.”

  “We have Devon in hiding,” Justice continued, “and under our protection, per Max’s request before he was …” He glanced toward me. “Before he was overtaken. Devon is safe and doesn’t remember anything.”

  I nodded, my mind’s eye fading into an obscure darkness.

  ‘I can show you the way. To the Shadows,’ a voice that wasn’t my own chimed in my head. My gaze traveled the walls of the bedroom, the ceiling, but there was no one to see. Only Justice and my grandmother—no half-woman half-arachnid hanging from the rafters ‘He is not far, your beloved.’

  Gripping the quilt draped over the bed into my fist, my posture slacked as if someone had pulled and released marionette strings attached to my shoulders, and my breath escaped my lungs in a gasp.

  Justice popped to his feet off the bed. “Layla, what’s wrong?”

  “Kindred?” My grandmother swept toward me with surprising speed. Her finger brushed the hollow of my eye, her unyielding gaze penetrating mine.

  “I’m okay.” I gripped the edge of the bed to keep myself steady and sat down. “Headache.”

  ‘When the time is near, I will be waiting, Princess.’

  7

  My grandmother’s hand rested across my knee, concern creasing the corners of her eyes. “Justice, I think a shower is in order,” she said, taking her focus away from me. “I’m sure you remember where everything is located in the guest room.

  He nodded, but seemed reluctant to move. “You sure you’re okay, Layla?”

  “Yeah.” I glanced up at him, surprised again by his concern.

  “Okay … I’ll just be—“ He pointed out the open door. “—right down the hall. If you need anything.”

  “Okay …”

  “Right.” He backed up and walked out of the room.

  “You know him?” I asked my grandmother.

  “Of course I do.” She scoffed. “But Justice is not my concern presently, you are. What happened a moment ago?”

  “Um …” I glanced at the walls, the ceiling, “I’m not sure. Grandmother—you said, in the Infirmary a few days ago—you said the Accursed Arts.”

  “I did.”

  “What did you mean? What does that mean?”

  She sighed. “It has been a long time since I last witnessed magic of this kind. There were signs all over your body—remnants, if you will,” she said. “It seemed as if something reached out and grabbed you when you fell from the sky.” She shook her head slightly. “Very few know of the Accursed Arts anymore, and only the Accursed Arts can leave fields of magic on your kind. It is not a practice used among—well, that does not matter. To answer your question, the Accursed Arts is old magic. Ancient magic.”

  “My kind?”

  “Yes, your kind.” She held my hand. “An Ancient. There is something I need to give you. Something that has been hidden for many years.” She stood up from the bed and reached into the pocket of her long cream robe, withdrawing a small leather pouch covered in faded Celtic symbols, and placed it in the palm of my hand. “Do you remember this?”

  I stared at the little sack. The bag sagged
in my palm as if the leather was thousands of years old, and for second, I wondered if it was.

  “Open it.”

  The drawstrings came loose without any effort, although they seemed unused, and the weave created perfectly tight little ropes. A small grey object, no larger than a walnut, but smooth and angular in shape, dropped into my hand. A stone. A stone I recognized instantly.

  “Grandmother?” I lifted my gaze away from the object and looked up at her with tears in her eyes.

  “I am so sorry, Kindred. I should have intervened long ago.”

  The stone heated up in my palm, as I glanced back down again, and it gleamed with a slight sheen, as if water had rushed over it for hundreds of years. A strange glow emanated off the smooth surface, like it was illuminated from the inside out. I flipped it over in my hand, and it blazed red.

  “It recognizes you,” my grandmother whispered, eyes sparkling.

  Tiny flames licked across the surface of the stone, and she folded my fingers around it.

  “Hold it tight and close your eyes.”

  I did as she asked, and without warning, my body tipped like I’d just flipped upside down onto my head, and memory washed over me.

  “Kindred, little one, it is time for bed.” My grandmother walked into my bedroom and ducked underneath the canopied bed, wound in freshly cut daisies and lavender blossoms. They filled the room with a sweet scent. “What are you drawing this late, little one? It is past your bedtime.”

  I picked up the sheet of paper from my lap, and my crayons spilled onto the floor. “My Oghams.”

  “Ah, I see. And it is pronounced ‘Ohm,’ child, not, ‘Ogm.’” She brushed the hair out of my face with a gentle smile.

  “Ohm.” I nodded.

  “How beautiful your drawings are. Look at all the colors you have used.”

  “Thank you. This one is my favorite.” I pointed to one of the drawing, and then to the design underneath my collarbone on the front of my right shoulder. “See? They match.” I held up the drawing so she could see.

  “Yes, I do see. That is my favorite one, as well.” She shifted my blankets. “Your Shield. Now, it is time for bed. Maybe you can draw your other Oghams in the morning?”