Bloodstone

by Gillian Philip

  ‘Wait! Wait!’

  Someone was squeezing out from the tumbled mass of rocks at the end of the bay, so fast he ripped his jumper. I watched, jaw wide, as Jed clambered and slithered across.

  ‘Wait!’ he yelled, casting nervous glances at the shore and the remaining Selkyr. ‘Finn!’

  Conal hauled the black’s head round, stared at him.

  ‘Jed.’

  ‘Yes! Wait for me!’

  Dawning horror on Conal’s face, mirroring mine.

  ‘Holy shit, Jed! Run.’

  He was already galloping towards Jed as he shouted, as if it was a wild homicidal hunt, and from the look on Jed’s face, I reckon he thought it was. Then we all saw the first Selkyr, striding fast towards Jed from the sea’s edge. For all its speed it didn’t look in any hurry.

  Jed backed off, up towards the dunes, but it came on remorselessly. He took another step back, and another, scared to turn his back on it.

  ‘Christ’s sake, I said RUN!’

  Jed was out of choices. He turned and bolted.

  Finn’s legs were flailing at the roan’s sides, but of course it wouldn’t move. I put an arm round her, pinning her arms to her sides, lifting her off its back so she lost her leverage.

  ‘Sit still,’ I snarled. As she swore and tried to wriggle free, I added: ‘And stay on this horse. Stay on.’

  She went limp very suddenly, giving up, crying audibly this time. I took no notice, just kicked the roan into a gallop after Conal. Jed was still running, sliding and stumbling, his hands sinking in gummy sand, seawater soaking his legs. He fell headlong and scrambled up, out of breath and effort, staring wildly from the seal-creature to Conal’s horse.

  The Selkyr was within ten yards of Jed when the black overtook it, and then Conal was off the horse and grabbing Jed into his arms.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Conal shouted at him, then he took a bewildered breath. ‘How are you blocking me?’

  Jed only shook his head, speechless.

  ‘I will hang Sionnach!’ yelled Conal. Holding Jed tightly, arms locked around his chest, Conal faced the Selkyr as it strode relentlessly towards them. Jed’s eyes bulged with terror. I pulled the blue roan to a slithering halt as the Selkyr stopped, two arms’ lengths from them.

  ‘No,’ Conal told it softly. ‘Not him.’

  The blackwater eyes fastened on Conal. It took a step towards Jed, reaching out long fingers, moonlight gleaming through the membranes of its finned hand.

  Jed shrank against my brother.

  ‘I said no,’ said Conal, more intently.

  It lowered its arm and curled its fingers into a loose fist.

  ‘Not yet,’ it said.

  The voice was wet, liquid, cold as death. It turned and walked away towards the ocean. There was not another sound from Conal, but in the stark moonlight, as he shoved Jed away, there were tracks of tears on his face.

  When we rode back to the camp, we didn’t have to say anything. We were without Leonora: that said it all.

  Sionnach got his deserved bollocking, but with only half of Conal’s heart. He was used to Conal’s temper; after half a millennium we all were, and besides, as he said later, fair enough if Conal had strung him up. Eili was too preoccupied with the loss of Leonora to defend her brother; she simply crouched to sharpen one of her swords, every sinew screaming furious grief. I knew that wasn’t over; there would be more bitterness where that came from. I couldn’t blame her. Hard enough to spawn a child; near to impossible when your lover was taken from you for most of your long, long life, and to no point at all.

  Jed hovered close to Conal now, a small planet round my brother’s sun. It didn’t annoy me as much as I thought it would. The boy worshipped him. I could see it already, in his constantly flickering, sleep-deprived gaze. Poor sod; and poor Eili too. Conal, for the moment, had attention only for Finn.

  ‘Take that necklace off. I want to talk to you. Properly.’

  Finn looked like she wanted to slap him. ‘I’m not sure I want to take it off.’

  ‘I’m here, aren’t I? You think I’d let any harm come to you? Take it off.’

  He was missing the point, deliberately or not, but she tugged the chain over her head, wincing as it scraped her hand. Taking it in his, Conal frowned. ‘What happened to you?’

  She let him touch it gently. I knew fine her hand didn’t need any more attention, but Finn obviously did.

  ‘Ah.’ He shut one eye and grinned. ‘You old faker, toots.’

  ‘Eili fixed it,’ I said, sliding a whetstone down my blade. ‘You should recognize her work.’

  He shut his eyes, but he’d spent the last of his anger on Sionnach. Finn stared at the unbuttoned collar of his slate-blue shirt, where the white line of a scar started at his collarbone. I knew, as she did, that it went down to his eleventh rib.

  ‘See, this is what hurts,’ she told him calmly. ‘You calling me a faker.’

  Sighing, he pulled his shirt collar apart with his fingers and peered down guiltily.

  ‘I’m sorry I hurt you. That’s the truth. I didn’t want to do it.’

  ‘I knew that car crash was a lie,’ she said. ‘See you? Always having a go at me for listening at doors, when you’ve been eavesdropping on me. Spying on my head. My whole life.’

  ‘No,’ said Conal. He ran his fingers hard across his skull. ‘No. I wouldn’t do that.’

  She stood up, snapped a dry branch viciously and flung it onto the pile of wood. ‘The thing is,’ she told him, ‘I don’t believe a word you say any more.’

  ‘I don’t blame you.’

  ‘Stop being so bloody clever!’ she yelled.

  I let my breath hiss out between my teeth. Conal turned a Zippo lighter calmly in his fingers and said, ‘Be quiet.’

  She was.

  He snapped the lighter. His fingers were trembling and the fire was poorly built, in guilt and bad temper, but finally the flames caught and licked up into the bark and kindling.

  ‘Thought you’d be more of a boy scout,’ she muttered. ‘Rub some sticks together.’

  Glancing at me, Conal managed not to laugh. ‘Finn, I have a good idea how you’re feeling, most of the time. That’s not so unusual, is it? And seeing your mind is like looking in a lit window: sometimes I can’t help it, but it’d be rude to stare.’

  Sarkily I put in, ‘Some of her opinions are deafening.’

  He ignored that. ‘But Finn. Much as I love you, I’ve got better things to do than read your mind all day.’

  Glowering into the fire, she threw on another stick.

  ‘So does that make you feel better?’

  ‘No.’ Now even I could see she was fighting a grin. ‘What could be more interesting than me?’

  This time he did laugh. ‘You’ll soon be able to control it and block. Like—’ He glanced at Jed; then guiltily, at me. I saw him swallow. ‘Anyway. Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.’

  ‘I’m sure I will,’ she said coolly. ‘And I’ll get used to being a nonentity.’

  He shrugged. ‘Sorry we ruined your life, toots, but it beats getting burnt at the stake.’ He reached out a hand.

  She didn’t move. ‘That doesn’t make it okay that you lied to me.’

  He lowered his hand. ‘Finn. You’re not as angry as you think you are.’

  ‘And that,’ she snapped, ‘means you’re doing it again.’

  ‘Okay.’ Conal stood up and grabbed his leather jacket and the bridle rolled inside it. ‘You need to calm down. And I need to go to Eili.’ He walked off without a backward glance.

  Finn poked at the fire. She swore softly, and blinked hard.

  I didn’t want to feel such sympathy for her, but there you go. ‘Keep your mouth shut, Dorsal. Then you won’t have to wish you could take things back.’

  Her eyes glittered. Through her teeth she said, ‘I hate you.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, and my memory jolted; then it was lost again.

  Ah, the poor l
ittle cow. He was the only one who would have anything to do with her; no wonder she loved him, no wonder she needed him.

  Jed hadn’t said a word, but he glared like a loyal Rottweiler. Deliberately shifting away from me, she moved closer to him, but I sensed a gulf between them now that wasn’t physical. Overnight and since Leonora’s death, it was as if she’d evolved into another, superior species, and knew it. I couldn’t help noticing that he stiffened even as he put an arm round her: perhaps with resentment, or perhaps because he just didn’t fancy her.

  Dawn was not far off, the sky paling to grey on the eastern edge of the forest, and as the eerie light grew the trees were revealed, ranked like a silent army. Only Torc slept on, snoring like a badly-tuned tractor. Sionnach sat staring into the rebuilt fire as he whetted his hunting knife, his beloved iPod stuck to his ears.

  I stood up and stretched. ‘Missed your deadline, Cuilean.’

  Jed blinked at me, and I nodded at the sky.

  ‘You were going to be dead by midnight.’

  Maybe it wasn’t the most comforting thing I could have said, but truly, I meant it well.

  Strange how little she felt. The grief was like a blade wrapped under her breastbone, the edge working away at its sheath of silk but not quite touching her, not yet. She’d seen Leonie plunge into the water, but it hadn’t happened in real life.

  Not yet.

  Real life. It wasn’t that she had a problem accepting this was it. She wasn’t turning her back on it, on her home: not now. But Jed had to go. A friend was a friend, but friends could get in the way. He didn’t belong here. She did. Surprising how easy, how guilt-free it was to want him gone, now.

  Finn. Don’t let the cold iron in.

  So Leonie had taken the time, after all these years, to give her a lecture. Whatever the almighty hurry for her own death, she’d had time for that. Finn shivered with resentment.

  We’re cold, Finn, cold. You have to fight to stay human.

  It wasn’t inhumanity. She was worried for Jed. No, terrified, after what had happened – almost happened – on the beach. The fear of what might-have-been ate at her heart like a maggot.

  Anyway, she’d said, I notice my mother isn’t putting up much of a fight.

  An impatient sigh was all Leonie had given her, then. Don’t blame your mother, Finn. If there’s a splinter of ice in her heart, it’s because she needs it.

  Quite. What Finn needed was an ice-shard, one to keep her own heart stitched together: something to make it impervious to maggots of fear.

  And besides, it came down to a simple truth. This place was hers. Not Jed’s.

  Sleep came to her only intermittently, disturbed not by dreams of her mother this time, but by fluctuating resentment, fear and guilt. When the sun rose between the pine trunks, casting striped golden shadows, she was awake to see Eili and Conal return. They weren’t touching, but Conal had lost his hunted look, and Eili looked downright smug. Sitting up straight, Finn prised herself away from the sleeping Jed.

  ‘Don’t give me the silent treatment, Finn.’ Conal sat next to her. ‘I had to go away. Sorry.’

  ‘S’all right.’

  ‘No it isn’t. I know it’s been a rough night. I’m sorry I didn’t stay with you, but I’m not too happy myself.’ He glanced away uncomfortably. ‘And I haven’t seen Eili in a very long time.’

  Finn rolled her eyes, stifling laughter. When she met his eyes again he wore an insolent grin.

  He touched Finn’s hand and said, ‘Eili did that really well. Won’t scar.’

  She was tired of hearing about the talented Hotlips. ‘It’s sleep you need, pal, not romance.’

  ‘Ach, you’re a bossy cow.’ Conal laughed. ‘And Hotlips did you a favour, okay?’

  ‘All the same.’ She eyed him. ‘When are you planning to sleep?’

  ‘I’m not,’ he said lightly. ‘So. If you’re fed up of your high horse, d’you fancy another shot on mine? For fun this time.’ He made her hair into a ponytail with his fist and tugged it, a little too hard to be playful. ‘A good run will get death and jealousy out of your head.’

  She cocked an eyebrow. ‘Is it safe?’

  ‘With me it is.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘He doesn’t have a name. He’s not that kind of horse.’ He smiled. ‘Well?’

  She was going to die. She couldn’t believe she’d done this again, and voluntarily. Death by water horse, at terminal velocity: it was quite a way to go.

  She hung grimly against Conal’s back – partly so the wind wouldn’t sting her eyes but mostly because she was scared to look – so she could see nothing but the weave of his shirt, and her ear was jammed painfully against his scabbard as terror fired adrenalin into her bloodstream. When the horse slithered to a halt in the sand, Conal took her by the waist and hauled her round to sit in front.

  ‘You take him this time. Eyes front, toots.’ The horse sprang forward.

  As he dropped the reins she grabbed for them, half-blinded by the whipping silky mane. Conal’s arm was round her waist long enough for her to regain her balance, long enough for her to clutch the reins and feel the horse’s snarling mouth; then he let her go.

  The horse lunged forward and she leaned into its gallop. Ahead were the rocks at the end of the sand, slanting up like jutting bones, and she thought, if she thought at all, that they’d break on them like a wave. Then, through the stinging slap of the mane and the rasping of her lungs, she heard Conal’s voice at her ear. It was no words she understood, but when the sand ran out she dug in her heels and the horse took off, the bank of rocks blurring beneath them. She howled, and not with fear.

  As its hooves cracked down onto stunted grass and solid earth, the horse rolled its eyes back in its tossing head to watch her. She’d have sworn it was laughing, but then she could no more wipe her own grin off her face than stop breathing.

  Once more Conal turned the horse and let it lope down from the bank. On the beach it halted, snuffing the salt air. Itching for more speed, tremors running in its muscles, it planted its hooves in the rippling waves and stared out to sea. Liath, tongue lolling, lay down in the sand.

  ‘Good, eh?’

  ‘Huh-huh,’ she said, when there was breath in her lungs.

  Conal took the reins from her hands and lowered her off the horse, then dismounted after her. He sat down in the sand, clasping his hands behind his neck and tilting his head back to soak up sun. Liath shook off the sand and lay at his feet; the horse struck the waves playfully with a hoof, and Finn lay back too, drowsy, and stared at the infinite sky.

  She licked her teeth with the tip of her tongue. ‘Jed needs to get home,’ she said at last.

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘I’m not going.’

  He took a long time to answer that.

  ‘We’ll see,’ he said at last. ‘And I’ll take Jed soon as I can.’

  ‘I’m not going and you know it,’ she said. ‘After all, you’re longing to get one over on my mother.’

  ‘Finn...’

  ‘You said it last night. Remember?’

  ‘I was angry then. It isn’t safe for you here.’

  ‘I’m not safe over there,’ she snapped. ‘And neither is anyone else.’

  ‘Shania Rooney? You wanted skelping for that.’

  She bristled. ‘You needn’t have a go at me, you with the sword on your back. What would you have done, cut her head off?’

  He shrugged and laughed. But he didn’t answer.

  ‘How does Shania even notice me, anyway?’

  He shrugged. ‘How does Jed notice you, for that matter? I dunno. Maybe they’ve both got traces of Sithe blood.’

  ‘Put it about a bit, do you?’

  ‘Yeah. Heh! Fallen angels, that’s what we are. Y’know the old full-mortal legend? When their God kicked the rebel angels out of Heaven, the ones that fell in the sea became the seals, and the ones that got caught in the sky became the Northern Lights, and the ones tha
t fell on land became faeries.’

  She watched the clouds so he wouldn’t see her smile. In the companionable silence she folded her arms across her face, too comfortable to move. The horse trotted towards the sea, stretched its neck to the thin lapping waves, and drank.

  ‘So you – we’ve always lived there?’

  ‘With the Veil to protect us, yes. We wouldn’t do it without. There’s things I’m willing to die for, but Kate’s political career ain’t one of them.’

  Finn stared at the scabbard on his back. ‘Try not to go dying for anything, will you?’

  ‘I don’t intend to, toots.’

  ‘Wish you’d stop calling me that.’

  ‘Way too late. Toots.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘So who exactly are you fighting?’

  ‘Kate’s people. People who want war with the full-mortals. People who bear a grudge.’

  ‘Like Seth, then,’ muttered Finn.

  ‘No,’ said Conal. ‘Finn, no. He bears a grudge but he wouldn’t go that far.’

  She gave him an arch look.

  ‘I heard that, young lady.’

  ‘Why does he hate me, by the way?’

  Conal swore under his breath, trickling sand through his idle fingers. ‘He doesn’t hate you. It’s – look, when you don’t have kids of your own, sometimes you’re just not that keen on other people’s. Okay?’

  ‘You don’t have children.’

  ‘No, but I’ve got you.’ He risked a sidelong smile. ‘Seth burnt his boats when I did. The day we rode out of Kate’s stronghold and took half her best fighters with us.’

  ‘Ooh, renegades.’

  ‘It’s not ooh, it’s bloody nerve-wracking.’

  ‘And you have to be at war, do you?’

  ‘Listen, Kate’s even worse than the rest of us. She’d start a war for the fun of it on a dull weekend. And she gets along grand with the Lammyr. That’s not a good thing, take my word for it.’

  Finn curled up to watch the horse at the water’s edge. It seemed transfixed by the distant islands. The sea was blue and silken beneath feathers of cloud, but it had probably drowned a hundred men. A thousand. Picturing their bodies drifting and rotting below the surface, she shuddered. She did not like seeing beneath the skin of the world, and she did not want to know what a Lammyr was, or why it filled her head with death.