by Laney McMann
“One will kill the other. You cannot defeat me. Say goodbye to your beloved.” Unbridled, unwanted, tears ran down my face, and I ripped my eternity bracelet off and dropped it.
37
I sucked air into my chest so hard, so fast, it was as if I’d inhaled my last, dying breath. I recognized the beep to my left, along with the stinging sensation in the crook of my arm, and an ache, an ache so deep and painful, I wondered if I’d undergone some kind of internal surgery.
Wisps of dreams and nightmares resonated in my thoughts and faded just as quickly, like streams of water I couldn’t hold onto.
My grandmother’s mutterings reached my ears and eased my nerves, relief blanketing me, knowing she was near—ending the crazed visions that made me feel helpless and vulnerable and desperately sad.
A medicinal onslaught of odors assaulted my senses, along with a lingering scent of gardenias. An aroma I used to love, I thought. Maybe. I couldn’t remember why. My fingers twitched on my right hand and closed on air. A sting bit into the center of my palm. Something was missing—something I’d been holding—clinging to. Something warm, keeping me grounded when I’d fallen asleep. Safe. I remembered the unyielding grip, the soft whispers. Something important—something I needed to know.
My grandmother's tired voice muttered close again. "Agrona," she said. "There was never a Gatekeeper. Lies and magical conjurings. We've been deceived. Outwitted by red magic. Mairsale never sent anyone. Tristan confirmed it this morning. Agrona is still in the hovel she calls her home—attempting to resurrect the dead." She pressed her fingers to the back of my neck, and it prickled under the pressure. "This is the Morrigan's work."
No.
I pried my eyes open, squinting through a whitish film. My grandmother’s heavily lined face came into view through some kind of clear plastic.
My mother glanced over, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Rest, Kindred. We will talk when you are better.” My grandmother patted my hand. Feeling secure under her watch, I allowed my eyelids to droop. My hand opened and closed on air again. What was I holding?
“We must tell the Guard to break through the Fomorian Gates.” My mother’s hushed voice rose above the continual beep in my ears. “We must act.”
“Going after MacKenzie directly would be a surefire way to kill Berneen. It is not an option,” my grandmother said. “We will be putting our entire realm at risk. Our defenses are down as it is. The Guard will continue to protect the border and wait for Flidais’ word.”
“It’s been over a week!”
Chills spread over my skin. Oh, my god. Where am I?
“They could all be dead by now,” my mother raged. “We’ve already suffered too many losses. People are dying. Look around you! Everything is dying. We have to stop this.”
What?
I tried to pry my eyes open.
“Something is wrong. I know you can feel it, too,” she continued. “We cannot abandon Berneen.” My mother sounded as though she’d aged ten years—her voice deep, drawn, and hysterical.
A cool hand rested in the crook of my arm and squeezed. “We have no way of knowing what the repercussions of MacKenzie going back to the Shadow Realm will be. And no one is abandoning Berneen.”
“Can you stop the effects on Teine? Because if you cannot—”
“There is only so much I can do against a curse of this nature. You know that.”
“We cannot allow Teine’s condition to progress further. You know what the result could be. And with MacKenzie missing—”
Missing?
“Accursed Arts are the oldest, most powerful form of all the magics, and there are spells from the old world I simply do not know.” My grandmother’s voice was drawn.
“You know what is at stake,” my mother said in a harsh whisper. “We should never have allowed MacKenzie to leave.”
The back of my neck seared, radiating outward with an ebb and flow akin to heated metal spikes. As if hot knives were being thrust through my shoulders and down my arms. Finding my limbs difficult to control, I managed to open my eyes and struggled to sit up. I reached out, my arm heavy and weak, and hit something soft, pliable.
Eyes wide, I realized a plastic tube encased the bed I was lying in. Hyperventilation set in my lungs, and I panicked, pressing against the unyielding plastic. My breath heaved and lurched in uneven spurts. I’m trapped here. They’ve trapped me. Where’s Max? He was with me. Holding my hand. Keeping me safe.
“You are all right, Kindred.” My grandmother hovered over me, removing the protective covering. “Just breathe. It is simply a precaution.”
My breaths continued to stagger in and out.
“Breathe.” She patted my back as I sat up. “I am sorry to have frightened you. Lorelei, please keep your voice down.”
I reached for my wrists, massaging the areas where my Oghams burned into my skin like white-hot coals and curled onto themselves as if serpents burrowed underneath. Something was missing—something that I knew should be there—had been there.
My eternity bracelet.
No.
I stared at my right wrist as if not really seeing it—not believing—not wanting to believe, but the bracelet was gone. It was just a dream—a nightmare. Yanking the stiff sheet away from my legs, I scrambled and staggered off the bed onto the cold stone floor of the infirmary on my hands and knees. It wasn’t real.
“Kindred?”
I crawled under the bed, looked under the armchair near the window, near the beeping machines, by the round table overcrowded with dead and dying potted gardenias, their once white petals an ugly wrinkled brown. Everywhere. Searching.
It’s gone.
“Teine?” My mother tried to pull me up. “What—what are you doing? Get off the floor.”
Tears streamed down my face to the point of blindness as my hands groped the cold stone. It can’t be gone. Panic cut off my ability to breathe normally. I couldn’t inhale, choking on the onslaught of terror and tears. No. No. No. Where is it?
“Kindred!” My grandmother shuffled next to me, but I paid her no attention, crawling underneath the bed again.
It has to be here. Frantic. Scrambling. The tips of my fingers rubbed red and raw. Fingernails chipped against the coarse stone floor.
It has to be here.
Clambering across the room, I eyed everything. My knees caught on the hospital gown, causing me to trip up and lunge forward, knocking my elbows against the hard ground.
“Layla.”
They took it. They took it from me. Red streaked across my sight, anger reared up, and I scurried back under the bed. It isn’t here. Someone took my bracelet from me. Like my memories and my Oghams. Stealing my life, my family—my Max.
Boiling over like a tea kettle, fire rushed up under the surface of my skin. Soot covered my palms, streaking the floor in black smudges.
“Max!”
“Layla—” The intensity of Justice’s yell broke my attention, and I realized he was under the bed on all fours beside me, deep blue eyes finding mine. “What happened?”
It’s over. He’s gone. Max is gone. I told him not to leave. Heat spilled up from my stomach, into my throat, my mouth, like acid. He promised he wouldn’t leave again. I told him not to let go of my hand. He promised he wouldn’t let go. A strange ache cut across my chest like a dull knife and forced me to heave.
“Layla?” The weight of what had to be Justice’s hand pressed against the small of my back. “Let me help.”
It can’t true. It can’t be real. He can’t be gone. He wouldn’t leave me. “Max, where are you?!”
In a frenzy, I scrambled out from under the bed, rose to my feet, and glared at all the watching faces in the room. My grandmother, my mother, Justice.
No Benny—no Max. He hadn’t come back with her.
“Where’s Max?” I eyed them all with uncontrolled rage.
My grandmother sighed, her shoulders slumping. My mother stared at the floor.
I glanced at Justice. “He didn’t come back?” I tried to hold away the choke in my voice. The reality of what that meant—what I’d seen in the nightmare that wasn’t a nightmare at all. Couldn’t have been. It was a vision. Real events.
Oh, god. The Tear.
Justice held my gaze and shook his head before averting his eyes.
“Why are you all sitting here?” I screamed, fists clenched. “Why didn’t you go after him?”
Justice’s intake of breath was quick. “He told me to stay here with you.”
“Do you always do what you’re told?” I yelled. “Your friend is … is …” Gone. Someone else.
I couldn’t say it—could barely think it, but I’d seen Max. Heard him tell me to go, that it was over between us, but I also remembered whispering while I was unconscious. Max’s voice. Talking to me while I slept. Gripping my hand. The choke in his voice. A sweet sorrowful cry. The friend I’d known all my life. The one who’d told me he was sorry he had to leave me at the waterfall when we were eleven years old.
“I’m going after him.” I turned away, searching for my clothes.
“No!” My mother and Justice roared at me at once.
I spotted my shorts and tank top near the corner of the room. “None of you can stop me! None of you!” I glared at everyone. “He’s my friend. My best friend!” I looked at my mother. “Even if nothing else mattered, even if I wasn’t in love with him—he’s my friend! If I don’t come back,” I snatched my clothes up off a nearby table, ”send someone.” Marching toward the bathroom, my blood sped like venom through my veins. I could taste the metallic tang on my tongue.
“No need,” Justice said behind me. “I’ll be going wherever you go.”
I looked back at him for half a second. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, as if in some kind of challenge. “You can’t get through the gates.” I closed the bathroom door behind me, fighting the urge to throw up or burst into flames, or both, and yanked my clothes on before coming back out, searching for my shoes.
“Teine! You are not well,” my mother said.
“No. You’re right, Mother, I’m not well. Something is wrong with me. I can feel it. I’ve been able to feel it for weeks, but I will not sit here doing nothing again! I have the power to stop this.”
“How? Mother, reason with her.” She thrust her hands toward my grandmother. “She just woke from a prolonged sleep. She is in no state to … to do anything. Go anywhere. Once we have word from the Guard, we can reevaluate.”
“This must be handled with stealth, Kindred.” My grandmother’s white-eyed gaze caught mine, as I continued looking for my shoes. “You cannot be seen.”
“Right.” I answered like a robot.
“No one must sense your presence. Do you understand?” She continued.
“Yep.”
“Mother! She is a child—” My mother’s face blotched with red circles.
“A child born unto the Ancient race!” My grandmother’s expression showed a hint of fury. “You forget who she is. This is her fight, and she is armed.”
My mother shifted toward me with disgust. “The Oghams will not protect her! She cannot walk into the Underworld. The gates do not open for any other than Fomorian blood!”
I pulled on my old Converse and sprung to my feet, looking her in the eye. “The gates will open for an Ancient.”
My mother’s face whitened. “Wha—”
“We cannot stop this, Lorelei,” my grandmother said. “The cycle must end. There is no other way.”
“What of the Morrigan’s Ogham? What of the Raven on her neck? This is madness! She is ill—”
Aunt Flidais burst through the infirmary doors, shaking. “They’ve been killed … half the Guard.” She rushed toward my grandmother. “The Fomore henchmen have taken up position around the boundary lines. They’re demanding we send Teine, or they will break through the gates.” She thrust a piece of parchment into my mother’s hand.
“What?” Examining the paper, she lifted a hand to her mouth, and her audible gasp shot fear through my bones.
“How did the Guard find the Shadow Realm’s gate?” Justice asked in clear disbelief.
“We had them track MacKenzie’s steps, child.” My Grandmother’s white-eyed gaze remained toward the floor.
My mother handed me the letter.
As you well should have been informed by now, I have my son. After years of suffering, he is finally home where he belongs, with his father, no longer underneath your spell. He holds nothing but anger and spite toward Teine, as the Tie your people so maliciously created in an attempt to thwart me has been severed. Our children are once again foes as they were born to be. It pains me to say that I have been assured a breach into the Shadow Realm has been made. Without invitation, as you well know, our people may not cross realms, and if such an action does occur, it is considered a threat. Suffice to say, by the hands of your own Ancient Fire Born, The Battle shall commence. Our Fomorian guards await to accompany your opponent to the appropriate location so that the festivities may begin. Let this serve as a formal invitation to whoever may be agreeable to attend. Please find the enclosed rules of battle.
Regards—
King Elethan of The Fomorian
Post Script: And should your opponent choose not to fight, I will be forced to assume that you wish for war. Know the Fomorian have no wish to engage in full combat against your people. I am aware that your realm is suffering. Please send your opponent to prevent further turmoil in your lands.
If you do not remove the remainder of your Guard from my gates, I shall kill them all. I will use all means necessary to assist in your opponent’s cooperation.
As if the ground swayed under my feet, I read the last sentence again aloud and tore my gaze away from the paper. “He can’t—I can’t.”
He holds nothing but anger and spite toward Teine, as the Tie your people so maliciously created in an attempt to thwart me has been severed.
Severed? That’s the ache I feel. What I saw … it was real. My eyes closed.
All of the dreams. The nightmares and visions were something else. Something worse. Foreign and alien. I’ve been seeing the outcome of the Tear.
I put my hand out against the edge of the infirmary bed to keep from falling.One will kill the other. This is my fate. I’m trapped.
I looked up from the floor to my shaking hands, before dropping the letter on the ground.
It’s over. You and me—it’s done. Get out of here before I hurt you. My fingers wrapped my empty wrist. Nausea welled up and tickled the back of my throat, and I ran for the bathroom.
38
My nails dug into the soft flesh of my palms, cutting through skin as I stared into the bathroom mirror. Sweat beaded up over my lip, all the color washed from my cheeks, and the bitter taste of bile coated my tongue.
“Teine.” My mother banged on the bathroom door. “Are you all right?” She knocked again.
The hollows under my eyes were smudged deep purple, as if eyeliner and mascara had run together and collected in the wells. The usual light green of my eyes was darker, forest instead of emerald, and my skin, although it could have been from vomiting, was as pale as white chalk. It was like seeing someone else in the small rectangle of reflective glass. Skin crawling, I gripped the sink, and realized my Oghams had unraveled and wrapped my shoulders and arms in an intricate pattern of delicate interweaving circular lines. Like scales. Slightly golden and shimmery, they were a shade darker than my skin tone, and barely visible around the edges were faint red lines.
“Teine! Come out, or Justice is coming in!”
I turned the latch on the door and let it swing open. “He’s one of them,” I heard myself say in a voice far too serene to be my own. “That’s why he didn’t come back.” The words came out of my mouth as if I hadn’t spoken them; I couldn’t believe I had.
“What are you talking about?” Justice eyed me.
> “I heard you talking before. About Max.” I stared at the door handle, not meeting anyone’s gaze. “Hoping for nothing.” My voice came out low and controlled. “Believing in him. Believing in us. You’ve all been waiting for nothing.” Spots of blood hit the stone floor, seeping from the cuts my nails created on my palms.
“Teine!” My mother reached for my hands. “Stop this. What are you saying? You’ve been unconscious. Please, lie back down.”
“You were wrong.” Rippled chills fanned out across my shoulders. “All of you were wrong.” My Oghams burned, unwinding and crawling further down my biceps and up my forearms like connective lace. “Everything I see—everything—is real.” I growled it, lifting my gaze. “Max told me that.” Laughter erupted in my head, and I blinked, forcing it away, an eerie calm settling over me like a thick woolen blanket. “It was magical coercion. Our connection. Created by the Tie. You never told me that, Grandmother.” I stared at her. “Our love for each other was a hoax. Something fabricated by the Accursed Arts. It was never real.”
Her eyes widened. “Kindred, you do not understand. There is so much more—”
I heaved a breath, hoping she would have told me I was wrong. “So, it’s true. Everything I’ve been seeing—feeling. “
She sighed, giving me all the confirmation I needed.
“Oh, my god.” It was as though she’d stabbed me in the heart. “All of it?”
“Kindred. There is much that you do not know—that I could not say. Too much.”
The Necropolis. The tombs. Agrona.
Turning toward Justice with a desperate need to know the truth, I asked, “How long have we known each other? You and me?”
His eyelids flew wide. “I … Wh—what do you mean?”
“I’ve been kind of slow. I’ll give you that. So, how long?”
He inhaled a deep breath and stared like he didn’t want to answer. “A long time,” he said, through gritted teeth, as if he was physically unable to lie.