The Gossamer Crown: Book One of The Gossamer Sphere

by Conway, Melissa

  “I’ll try, Grandmother.”

  Caitlin gave her a curious look. “Felicity told you.”

  Lizbeth nodded. “She told us a lot of things. Except—how could you have been Brian Griffey’s friend? I mean, he was horrible.” She shot an apologetic look at Kevin, who twitched his shoulders in a minute shrug to let her know it didn’t matter what she said. The guy meant nothing to him.

  “He wasn’t always,” Caitlin said. “Immortality tends to change a person. Brian wasn’t the first to go a little insane—with power as well as from the grief of losing loved ones. He and I met at the summer solstice initiation two years after the druid stronghold on the island of Anglesey was destroyed. Before the Romans came, there were many initiates, but that day there were five who touched the crown. He and I, as the grandchildren of two of the original shapeshifters, were the only survivors. It bonded us.”

  “Let me guess,” Zach said. “You were obviously the granddaughter of Queen Wyn, which would make Brian the grandson of Tadg the Small?”

  Werka’s plain face showed Caitlin’s surprise. “How on earth did you—Felicity? I didn’t think I’d ever mentioned them to her.”

  “It wasn’t Felicity. There’s this website that has a bunch of stories about shapeshifters. There’s one all about someone named Caetl.”

  “I haven’t heard that name for a very long time,” she said softly. “It seems some of the lore survived. Well, it’s of no consequence now.”

  Caitlin, normally so guarded about her privacy, suddenly didn’t seem to care who knew the truth. Kevin thought, because there’s no reason to hide anything anymore. They were all doomed, and the past didn’t matter. Still, he had one thing he wanted to know about the man, the druid, who was his father.

  “Why was Griffey on Titanic with the crown? You said it was stolen and then you said he was bringing it to you.”

  Caitlin smiled sadly. “It was he who convinced me the crown was untouchable locked up in the safe with the Irish crown jewels. That turned out to be far from the truth, as the man entrusted with the jewels was quite careless in both his friends and duties. No one ever found out who opened the safe or where the jewels went. It was as if a ghost had spirited them away.”

  “Or a shapeshifter,” Kevin said.

  “Indeed. Five years the crown was missing. Victor was long gone by then and with no clues as to its whereabouts, I was unable to even begin to search for it. I started a new life in America. Out of the blue, Brian contacted me. Said he’d purchased the crown from Shackleton and was coming to America on Titanic. It wasn’t long after the ship sank that I began to suspect he’d lied. It’s highly unlikely Shackleton wouldn’t have touched the crown if he’d had it in his possession all that time. It would have killed him. Later I realized it could not have been a coincidence that the name of the salvage ship that found the crown was The Gossamer. I was unable to determine who had financed the ship’s salvage effort, but it was clear whoever it was knew what they were looking for. And Brian was the only one besides me who knew where to look. However, it wasn’t until I met you, Kevin, that I knew for certain he was still alive.”

  “How?” Kevin asked.

  “I knew you were his son. I sensed your power, and you look exactly like his grandfather, Tadg. It’s uncanny, really.” She straightened her shoulders then and announced, “It’s time.”

  Kevin didn’t know why he expected her to offer Lizbeth some gesture of affection, an acknowledgment of their relationship, but she didn’t. Instead, she handed Kevin the car keys, a wad of cash, and simply looked at all of them for a moment before saying, “Go. Be blessed.”

  Outside, the sun had disappeared again behind some ominous-looking clouds. As they walked the gravel drive to the barn, Caw flew down and landed on Zach’s head.

  “Not you again,” he said. To Kevin he added, “Could you get this for me?”

  Kevin offered the bird his forearm. Caw stepped on, making a scratchy sort of noise with his beak. Kevin had no idea where it came from, but he mimicked the noise back perfectly.

  “We should take him with us,” Lizbeth said.

  “Yeah, he’d blend right in at the Ritz,” Zach replied.

  “He’ll starve if we leave him.”

  “No, he’ll learn to eat roadkill like all the other scavengers.”

  Kevin thought about the four bodies lying unprotected in the field behind the house and shuddered. He made another soft noise and reached tentatively toward Caw, who held still and allowed him to wrap his hand around the bird’s body. Caw’s feet released their grip on his arm and he lay passively in Kevin’s hand.

  “We could hide him,” Kevin said.

  “I doubt Len trained him that well.”

  Kevin went behind Zach and unzipped his backpack. He formed a series of squawks in his throat and put Caw inside, partially zipping it back up. The bird stayed put, poking his head out of the opening.

  “So now you talk to birds?” Zach asked.

  Kevin shrugged. He didn’t think he’d actually “said” anything to Caw, but the sounds he’d made did seem to get the bird to cooperate.

  Lizbeth bumped into Zach and said, “Quit griping. Caitlin said Caw is special, like us.”

  They piled into Caitlin’s rental car and headed out. Kevin drove, watching the old house get smaller in the rearview mirror. The uppermost branches of the oak trees, just visible past the roof, swayed in the wind as if waving farewell.

  On the way, they stopped at a petrol station and asked for directions to the Ritz. Kevin had serious doubts about whether three rather scruffy people would be allowed to register at the upscale hotel, but they didn’t have any problems. Maybe the concierge was used to the new generation of grungy rich and famous and assumed they were in that class.

  Caitlin had reserved two rooms. They hung out in Lizbeth’s and ordered room service for a late lunch. Kevin got a hamburger and fries just for Caw. None of them seemed to want to discuss the failure of their quest, so they watched television while they ate. Most of the channels had continuous coverage of what some enterprising reporter had dubbed “The Cataclysm.” The temblors that had rattled the United Kingdom had thus far been mild, but with so many of them, damage was beginning to add up. Hundreds of businesses had closed shop. Crime skyrocketed. A few neighborhoods had been looted by mobs of frightened citizens. Hardest hit were the home improvement and sporting goods shops as people attempted to stockpile survival gear. The worst news of all: Heathrow had finally been forced to stop all incoming and outgoing flights due to runway damage. Crews were working around the clock to fix the broken tarmac, but each new earthquake just contributed more.

  “Well.” Lizbeth stood and brushed the crumbs off her pants. “Let’s buy some new shoes so we can dump these ones.”

  From his lounging place on the bed, Zach asked, “Why bother? I doubt the police are even going to investigate. Didn’t you see the news? Half the police force has abandoned its post and the other half is busy keeping the riots under control.”

  “Let’s just do what Caitlin said, okay?”

  “Why? She’s not the boss of us anymore. This whole stupid scheme was a bust. We’ll be lucky to save ourselves now.”

  Kevin, who’d been sitting at the little table feeding bits of hamburger to Caw, got to his feet and faced the bed. “Why don’t you shut up?”

  Zach laughed. “Make me.”

  “Why are we here then?” Lizbeth asked in a raised voice.

  Kevin looked at her. “What do you mean?”

  “At the Ritz.” She glared at Zach. “You picked this specific hotel for a reason.”

  Zach got off the bed. “Yeah, alright, so what? Let’s get some new shoes and go find that Seamus guy.”

  Chapter Forty-seven

  London

  Zach waited with the others for the desk clerk to conclude a phone call, wiggling his toes impatiently in his new shoes. The uniformed young man finally looked up and offered an apology.

  “
How may I help you?”

  Zach opened his mouth to ask about Seamus, but stopped. He swiveled around and scanned the luxurious lobby, counting seven people, none of whom looked like Caitlin.

  Lizbeth spoke quietly. “She must be in disguise.”

  Kevin said, “There she is,” and nodded in the direction of a black-haired man in jeans and a black polo shirt standing under the archway to the grand staircase.

  Zach’s heart sped up. “Guys…that’s not Caitlin.”

  The last shapeshifter they’d encountered other than Caitlin turned out to be a psychopathic killer who would have done anything to get to the crown. They’d left it upstairs in Lizbeth’s room. This Seamus character knew about the crown, knew they’d been looking for it.

  “Can we trust him?” Lizbeth asked.

  “We might not have a choice.”

  “Here he comes,” Kevin said.

  Seamus sauntered over, all friendly-like, and held out his hand. Guardedly, Zach took it. Seamus was about his height and breadth, with a strong, calloused hand. He said, “It’s good that you’re here, Zach Wong.” Then he smiled at Lizbeth and shook Kevin’s hand, too, saying, “Brother, Sister, we’ve never met. I probably left Ireland before you were initiated. Lucky I had the wanderlust – got out before the empire started their campaign against us.”

  Zach frowned. Seamus must be strong if he could sense that Lizbeth and Kevin were like him. He had no way of knowing they’d only just come into their power. To prevent Lizbeth and Kevin from revealing the truth, Zach said, “I got your email. You said you could help.”

  “Sure I can. How much do you know about what’s happening?”

  Zach still didn’t trust him, so he said simply, “Everything.”

  “That’s more than I can say,” Seamus replied with a twinkle in his eye. “Only the Druidecht knew all the secrets.”

  “So how can you help?” Lizbeth asked.

  Seamus spread his hands. “I’m here, aren’t I? And there are plenty more where I came from. Most are just kin, but between us, we’ve got some useful skills. I’ve been actively recruiting them through my website for some time now. The Internet is a powerful tool. Now, tell me: how do you plan to stop this bloody ‘gossamer sphere’ from doing us all in?”

  Zach was torn. Seamus hadn’t mentioned the crown, and Zach was loathe to admit they had it. At least the shapeshifter hadn’t tried to read any of their minds—yet.

  A flash of lightning lit up the interior of the building. The sky outside had darkened considerably since this morning and the brewing storm had arrived. Looking past Seamus, Zach felt a wave of relief when he saw Caitlin enter the lobby through the main doors, shaking raindrops from a black umbrella. She wore a black knit cap that hid the bandage, and outwardly at least, seemed fine. He watched her cross the marble floor and head for the registration desk where they stood. When she got close enough, she must have sensed Seamus because she stopped cold.

  Seamus’ chin came up and he turned. Zach saw him stiffen as if in shock. After everything that had happened, Zach’s first instinct was to protect Caitlin at all costs. Seamus was solidly built and his movements were slow and deliberate, which suggested he knew how to fight. When he began walking towards Caitlin with a stiff, jerky gait, Zach followed, prepared to stop him if necessary.

  Seamus halted a few yards from Caitlin, who waited in dignified silence. To Zach’s astonishment, he dropped to one knee before her, bowing his head.

  “It is my greatest honor to serve you, my lady.”

  Chapter Forty-eight

  London

  From the moment she’d walked into the Ritz Hotel, the Ritz! Lizbeth felt like a princess. Well, a princess in desperate need of a decent shower and a fresh change of clothes, but still. She had no idea how Caitlin had managed to get reservations at such short notice, but if that was a shapeshifter trick, Lizbeth wanted to know how it was done. The guys hardly noticed where they were, despite the opulence all around them. And when Seamus knelt on the polished marble floor before Caitlin, it all seemed like a fantasy.

  The last thing she expected was for Caitlin to immediately begin berating him.

  “What do you mean, you called them here?”

  “Please forgive me. I thought it best.”

  “And you,” she said to Zach. “You emailed this man? Told him I was in London? What were you thinking?”

  Lizbeth wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of the look Caitlin gave him when he responded, “Apparently I wasn’t.”

  “The need for discretion is essential to your very existence,” Caitlin spat. “The survivors of the last attempted genocide can attest to that.”

  “With all due respect, ma’am, this isn’t the first century,” Seamus said.

  That slowed her down for a moment as she considered it, but she shook her head. “Regardless. Your followers won’t be of any assistance. The sphere is malfunctioning. We did not succeed.”

  Seamus hung his head. “I am a simple bard. I do not pretend to understand the ways of the Druidecht, but the lore I remember well. Was the crown not inscribed with the triskele symbol to commemorate the three? They were powerful alone, and more powerful together. Whatever you are attempting to do can only benefit from the united strength of what is left of our people.”

  Caitlin said something unintelligible, a contemptuously delivered phrase in a guttural language. Lizbeth turned to Kevin, who surprised her by saying, “She said Seamus is overstepping his bounds.”

  “How did you know that?” Caitlin asked. “That language has been dead for centuries.”

  Kevin shrugged.

  “Milady, please consider my proposal.” Seamus shook his head, eyes pleading. “The folk are here and willing to do whatever is necessary. The rest of the world may not be aware of the earth’s impending fate, but rest assured, they are. If, with their power combined with yours, we can stop this sphere…”

  Lizbeth was completely convinced by Seamus’ argument. Caitlin’s face, as ever, gave nothing away. Lizbeth held her breath.

  “How many are there?” Caitlin asked. “What clans?”

  “Almost a hundred, but most are descendants of the folk, with nominal gifts. I won’t deceive you: there are sworn enemies among those who have given me allegiance in this, and only this, endeavor. I would like to believe old griefs have faded away, but either way, I give you my oath that I will die protecting you.”

  Caitlin sighed. “Such a gathering will surely call attention to us.”

  Lizbeth started to raise her hand as if she were in school, but dropped it before anyone noticed. “I think everyone’s kind of busy with other things at the moment.”

  “Besides,” Kevin said. “I know exactly where we can go – should go – to make this work. No one will see us there.”

  Chapter Forty-nine

  The North Sea

  Kevin felt sorry for Bill Masters. It had been pathetically easy for Caitlin to convince him to take them out to Silverpit Crater on the scientific drilling vessel. Technically, the ship wasn’t even his to take. It was owned by some huge conglomerate, but since it had been officially quarantined, it’d just been sitting offshore, fully crewed, until the authorities released it. Bill didn’t hesitate.

  The “folk” arrived at the pier in cars and vans, taxis and buses. To Kevin, other than the fact that they were forced to walk bent double against the wind and rain, they looked absolutely normal. There were men and women young and old, and even a few children, some solemn, some excited as they boarded the ship. They carried their luggage, coolers of food and drink, and sleeping bags. He sensed only a few as full shapeshifters, and each of those took his measure as they went by.

  The trip out to the crater in the storm was wretched. Kevin spent it in the cabin with Caw, who stayed glued to his shoulder except during the worst bouts of vomiting, when he perched on his back and made soothing bird noises. By morning, the engines had quieted, indicating they’d arrived some time during the night. The
rough sea hadn’t let up, but he’d gotten some sleep and felt marginally better. Zach must have come in late and gone before Kevin woke, or more likely, he’d bunked with Lizbeth again. They probably thought Kevin didn’t know about it, but after his long nap on the couch at Felicity’s house, he couldn’t sleep. He’d heard Lizbeth sneak into the spare room and didn’t hear her come back out.

  He ran into Seamus on the way to the head. The bard flashed a quick smile, and Kevin, not one to trust a person before knowing him, thought he might like this man.

  Seamus lifted his chin, looked down his impressive nose and said, “You’ve got the look of him.”

  Kevin raised his eyebrows. Was he talking about Griffey? From the glimpse Kevin got of his birth father’s real face after death, he’d have to disagree.

  Seamus smiled again. “And you’ve got no idea who I mean. It’s hard to believe there’re new druids among us. It’s Tadg the Small I’m talking about.”

  “Oh,” Kevin said. “From the story. Did you know him?”

  Seamus nodded. “I had the privilege. You’re a bit taller, but if you gelled your hair up into a Mohawk, you’d be the spitting image.”

  “So I hear—well, except the part about the Mohawk. I take it he’s dead?”

  “That he is lad, and an ignoble death it was. The clan always suspected he’d been jumped by his rivals. Who would have guessed tossing his body in the bog would preserve him for future generations to discover? When this is over, when we’ve succeeded, look up Clonycavan Man. Tadg’s killers went overboard to make sure he was good and dead. Split his skull, the bloody murderers.”

  Kevin recoiled, but said, “Thanks. I’ll be sure and look that up. If this works.”

  “It will. It has to.” Seamus clapped a hand on his shoulder. “See you on deck.”

  After visiting the head, Kevin found Caitlin in the lab. Piles of luggage and rolled-up sleeping bags were everywhere, but the only other person was Bill. Kevin hesitated in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. He cleared his throat, but it went unnoticed.