by Tracy Clark
We inched along with the train of other cars departing the airport. People were obviously frustrated as some milled around outside the terminal, hoping the airport would reopen soon. Others bounced their suitcases behind them as they left. The fresh tourists, the last to arrive for the foreseeable future, pointed and looked at maps, confusion evident in the static texture of their auras.
Then I saw something that was so out of context, so incongruous, my mind could barely grasp that it was real. “Stop the car!”
Eight
Finn
“What tipped you off, Mother, the grave?” I needn’t have asked. Not that I understood all the complexities of being a different kind of human, but I knew her sortilege, her specific power, acquired because she’d taken from the rare aura of a Scintilla—Cora’s aura. My mother could see my deepest secret the minute she looked in my eyes. Grand. As if mothers didn’t already have the inherent superpower to know too much.
“Please, stop this.”
“If only I could.”
“In time you may come to accept—”
“That’s shite! When I think of time now, you know what I think of? How it stretches out before me, a road with nothing but loneliness and guilt and more death. I don’t want time that includes murdering innocent people. I don’t want time without the person I’m in love with. Humans strive to be better than they are, to ascend. I don’t want a future being a lesser, vile version of who I once was. I’d rather be dead.”
Her eyes radiated sadness.
“You should have told me long ago, Mum.”
“Why, luv? You have no choice. Wishing you’d known earlier is the illusion of choice. A child can’t grapple with this. You barely can.” The leather of her glove warmed my cheek. “You’re exhausted. We all are. What just happened was ghastly. Nothing must be decided tonight. I came out here to tell you…” Her brows narrowed into a consternated line. I wondered how, after the last twenty-four hours, there could be anything else she’d be afraid to tell me.
“What is it?”
“Your uncle Clancy has returned.”
The shovel reluctantly released from the mud with a pop of suction as I grabbed it and ran toward the manor and up the rise of stairs to the door, anticipation winding my stomach like a watch, tighter and tighter. I’d unwind on my uncle. I’d thrill to see the shovel sticking out of his wide chest. I’d dig his Arrazi heart out with it.
I shoved the front door open and, with the tool firmly in my hand, strode into the house. “Where are you, you son of a bitch?” I yelled. My voice scraped my raw throat.
“Here,” his voice rang out from the library, a low note of fatigue or even…boredom.
Like a shovel being thrust into my own chest, it pained me to walk into the library where I’d attacked Cora. I’d not gone in there since. Pain was soon replaced by aggression when I saw Clancy. The astonishment on his face as I heaved the shovel over my shoulder and swung it at him was brilliant to behold. He jumped backward with not an inch between him and the muddy, sharp metal.
“What did you think?” I yelled, swinging so hard again that I felt a tear in the muscles in my shoulder. He ducked. As if through a tunnel, I could faintly hear my mother yelling.
The shovel took out a lamp and a glass jar of butter mints. Both shattered on the floor. “Did you think you could just waltz in here for supper? Have a wee chat about how you tortured a woman for a dozen years and then took my Cora?”
I backed him against the bookshelves. With his hands up, an entreating posture, Clancy began to talk, but I punched him full out and he fell to the ground. Books tumbled down around him. My mother was shouting behind us as I stuck the shovel to his fat neck. “You deserve to be killed the way you’ve killed people, to have your life sucked out of your spirit.”
“Like you did to your Cora?” There was a flicker in his eyes—as quick as the spark from a lighter—as I braced my legs and looked down on him. “Yes. Do it,” he choked out.
“You’d kill him?” My mother gasped. For a split second, I wondered if she was horrified or encouraged that perhaps I was embracing my Arrazi nature. “Finn, you can’t attack him!”
“I won’t live life as a killer, but if this is my first and last kill, I’ll die a happy man.” I threw the shovel aside and focused all my energy, all my hatred for what he’d done, for what we were, and began my first attempt at intentionally pulling someone’s aura into mine.
My legs swept out from under me. I flew backward through the air as if an invisible bomb had gone off, blowing me into the wall, nearly knocking me unconscious. Stars floated in my vision.
Clancy stood, smoothing his white hair as he did, and picked up the shovel as I lay on the carpet, trying to suck in a breath. He eyed me with derision, then turned his focus to my mother. “See how it plays out, Ina?” he said, using the shovel to point at his sister. “When you teach him nothing? You’ve left him completely ignorant. He doesn’t even know he can’t take from another Arrazi. If he were my son, he’d not have been left in the dark.”
“If he were your son, he’d be as ruthless as you!”
My uncle Clancy smiled then. Smiled like a secret promise. “He will be.”
“He wants to die,” she said, dissolving into rare tears. “He’s going to let himself wither to nothing.”
“Didn’t we all say that? Doesn’t every Arrazi have their dark night of the soul, questioning their very existence?”
My mother dropped her hands from her face, tears snaking down her thin cheeks. There was a long moment between them, full of memories and unspoken judgments. “You didn’t,” she finally said. “You never did.”
The phone rang somewhere in the house, trilling away the seconds like a shrill bird on the hunt. My head exploded with pain from hitting the wall, but I also felt rattled to my bones. He’d tricked me into attacking him. I wobbled to my feet, dripping defeat.
“I would never want to be a man like you. You sicken me. You tore that woman from her husband and her little child. You stalked Cora until you were sure she was Scintilla.”
“Yes.”
“You used me,” I said.
“Yes. You were bloody brilliant.”
“I fell in love!” The words tore from me like an explosion. Didn’t he understand the pain he’d inflicted? He gave me the most beautiful thing in the world and then ripped it away.
“You were supposed to, you dense gowl!”
I recoiled. My hands found their way to cover my wounded heart. I could barely breathe. I’d been played—my uncle’s puppet. Cora had been captured, her father killed. If I’d stayed away from her, none of that would’ve happened. But I couldn’t stay away. From the moment I felt her warmth, she was my sun.
Our housekeeper, Mary, entered the library, her owl eyes taking in the shambles. “You have a phone call,” she said to me. “An American girl—”
From the corner of my eye, Clancy edged forward in excited anticipation as Mary handed me the phone.
“Hello?”
“Finn, it’s Mari.”
Did Mari know how similar her voice was to Cora’s? It was wretched, the cold way I had to speak to her, her stunned silence in response to my clipped, one-word answers. They somehow knew about Cora’s father’s death and were looking for Cora, and when I refused to elaborate, her best friend, Dun, had to get on the phone because Mari began yelling at me. Girl had a gloriously foul mouth on her.
I could say nothing of consequence. Clancy stared at me all the while, his blue eyes boring into the side of my head. They had no clue the danger they put Cora and her mother in by calling the house. For all I knew, Clancy had a way to record our calls, and if he did, he’d know Mari and Dun were on a layover in London, en route to Dublin, due to arrive in the early afternoon. With the quickest expediency, I hung up. Even apart, I was a threat to Cora.
Without another word to my uncle or my mother, I went to my room to gather some things. My mum had indicated that, depending upon my own
energy, my need would come fast and strong. I wanted to be as far away from human contact as possible when it came time to kill.
Alone and apart from anyone—that was my goal. And to achieve that, I needed to go to the waterfront. I needed to set sail.
Nine
Cora
The car inched along as I flung the door open and jumped out amid honking horns and yells punctuated by Italian cursing from Giovanni. I ran as fast as I could past the front of the airport terminal, trying to reach the mirage that was olive skin and haughty sunglasses, that was a horse’s mane of long, black hair, the sunny yellow aura, and, well…the sequins that could only be Mari and Dun.
They’d come to Ireland, which filled me with shocked elation, followed by confusion, then exasperation.
Dun saw me first. I knew he did because his aura jumped like a bass note when he spotted me. We collided into each other. He lifted me up and swung me in a warm hug. I flung my arms around his neck and melted into him, with his strong arms holding me off my feet. His luminous aura wrapped me in the familiar warmth of brighter days. He set me down, still holding me, and Mari curved around my back as I cried.
I was sandwiched in love.
“How’s my girl?” Dun asked.
“I’m not peachy.” I sniffed. “I’m not even going to ask how it is you’re here.”
“Isn’t that like asking without asking?” Mari said into my hair. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not okay. I’m never going to be okay. You have no idea what’s been happening.”
Dun pulled back and looked down into my face. “Is it true about your dad?” he asked.
“How did you—?”
“Mami Tulke told us last night. She just dropped it on us saying, ‘My son is dead.’ Then she up and walked out the door. Just left. We figured she came here because you and your dad were here. After she left we said ‘screw it’ and came, too. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“You have no idea if she actually came?” I asked, tears gathering into a puddle of bitterness in my chest. “I hope not. Ireland is the last place any of you should be.” My Scintilla grandmother wouldn’t be safe here, of all places. “My dad was murdered,” I said, disbelieving the sentence even as it came from me. They stood in wordless shock, the weight of what I said dragging at our ankles. “Guys, there’s so much to tell.”
“Well,” Mari said, pushing her sunglasses on top of her head and fixing me with her dark eyes, glassy with uncharacteristic tears, “we’ve been traveling all day. You look like you haven’t had a meal in a week. Let’s get some taters and a pint and you can tell us everything. I’m glad Finn told you we were coming. We were beginning to wonder where we were going to go once we got here. You haven’t answered your phone in days.”
“Wait.” I tried to talk through the rock in my throat. “Finn knows you’re here?”
“Yeah,” Dun said. “Mr. McLoverboy said he couldn’t pick us up, though. Rude play if you ask me. He wouldn’t say why—”
“He didn’t tell me you were coming. He’d have no way to tell me. We only came to get some things from a locker and I saw you walking by. We’ve gotta get out of here.” I frantically pulled their hands, leading them toward the car. Dun was in step with me, but Mari was impossible to pull. She mulishly dug in her steel-toed boots and put her hands on her hips.
“Mari, I will explain in the car, but it is crucial that we leave here, right now. Pick up your feet or I’ll make Dun carry you.”
Mari looked at me with her mouth wide open, then fixed Dun with her try it buddy, and I’ll kill you with my laser vision look.
“Shall I carry her?” We all turned toward Giovanni. His silver aura pulsed with serrated anxiety. I was sure mine looked as sharp to him. It was bad enough to be at the airport. Way worse if Finn somehow led his uncle to us, even inadvertently. Clancy might figure that we were at the airport right now. Whether physically or astrally, he could follow us. He’d have us. I glanced around.
Mari flipped her glasses over her eyes. “Who’s this tall drink of masculinity who thinks he’s going to be allowed to touch me? Jump back onboard the SS Plunder and Pillage, dude.”
I gave Dun a pleading look. He was the only one who could get Mari moving. He whispered something in her ear and took her by the crook of the arm. To be honest, I’d never seen him handle her so deftly. A rose color flushed their auras when they touched. They followed me to the car with Giovanni behind us. Dun nodded curiously but politely to Gráinne as they slid into the backseat. Mari’s hand flew to her mouth and her eyes flitted back and forth between us when I introduced her as my mother.
“You’re alive!”
“Wow,” Dun said. “It’s nice to meet you Gr— What’s your name again?”
“It’s an Irish name,” my mom said, her eyes and silver aura shifting nervously with the new energy of the strangers in the car. This was more people than she’d dealt with in over a decade. “Gráinne. Pronounce it grawn-ya. It means grace.” Surprisingly, Mari didn’t flinch when my mother softly touched her cheek. “You…you look so much like B…” Her words died on the B of my father’s name.
“She’s my cousin, Mom. Mari is—”
“Eduardo’s daughter,” my mother finished with an affirming nod. “I held you in my arms once, in Chile.”
“Was she wrinkled and screaming like a baby piglet?” Dun asked with his typical good cheer, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Mari was the sweet baby that made me want to have and hold my own,” my mother answered. “And I did,” she added, looking at me with love, unmasked.
We drove the streets of Dublin in silence, watching carefully in the rearview mirror for anyone who might be following. My stomach grumbled loudly.
“We do need to eat,” Giovanni said. It had been at least a day since we had eaten anything.
“And sleep,” I said with a yawn. I was so tired that I was queasy and slightly faint.
“Our hotel?” Dun said. “We have a room booked. We can go there.”
Giovanni nodded. “Does anyone know where you’re staying?”
Mari and Dun both answered in unison, “No.”
The hotel that Mari had booked was middle of the road, a block away from the waterfront a few miles south of Dublin. A slice of ocean peeked from in between two hotels across the street. Giovanni handed Mari some cash and asked her to book an adjacent room in her name. She eyed him curiously and gave me a raised eyebrow, but did as he asked. I still didn’t understand how he had so much money. He’d made it clear that he’d done whatever he had to do to survive on the streets as a kid. I assumed that was still his life.
We opened up the door between the rooms but dead-bolted the main doors. I left Gráinne staring out the window with her hand pressed to the glass. Her tiny body was in silhouette from the afternoon light. I imagined, for a brief moment, that if my father were alive, he’d stand silently behind her. Be her pillar like he had been mine.
Giovanni showered while Mari ordered enough room service to feed an army.
“Was that everything off the menu?” Dun asked, flopping onto one of the beds.
“Oh, did you want something, too, wiseass?”
God, it was good to see them.
Mari sat cross-legged on the bed near Dun’s feet. “There’s a long story here, isn’t there?” she asked softly.
I nodded.
“And you’re going to tell us everything.”
“Yes,” I answered. “But can I eat and shower first?”
Her eyes appraised me. “Been mud wrestling again? You look like you did that day at the redwoods.”
I glanced down at my dirt-stained jeans, torn shirt, and dark crescent nails. “Just digging up a severed hand.”
They got points for at least trying not to look stunned.
“She did say she’d tell us everything,” Dun said.
Just then, Giovanni came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a white towel around his tapered waist.
“Dude!” Mari said, mock-clutching her heart. “Good God, man. Warn a girl.” She glanced at the towel tucked into the curved V of his hips.
Giovanni cocked his head to the side. Water dripped from his curls, reminding me of our first meeting in the rain. “My apologies,” he said sincerely in his thick Italian accent. “I didn’t mean to offend. I have no clean clothes. I was hoping to find a robe,” he said, opening the closet doors, finding two robes and hanging the other one in the bathroom. We all tried not to gawk at him. Them, because he was so blatantly…Giovanni. Me, because of the line of bruises arching across the rippled muscles on his back. He’d taken it worse than I thought from Clancy and Griffin.
Mari snorted. “He can offend me any time,” she murmured, to which Dun tipped his foot sideways and pegged her in the thigh. Stop flirting, he mouthed. His normally effervescent aura fizzled with sage-green jealousy.
“I’m not flirting,” she whispered back. “I’m bonding with Cora’s new friend.”
“You two have a story to tell as well,” I said, watching their auras interact. “I can see it, you know.”
Dun shrugged but Mari wagged her finger at me. “Circumstantial. I told you before, Cora, none of that X-ray vision on me.”
“It’s not like I can turn it off, Mari.”
She started to say something but a knock startled us. Dun jumped up to answer.
“Careful. Make sure it’s room service,” I whispered, Giovanni and I backing into the other room where my mother was resting. Our hands clasped as we stood behind the door and listened. But it was only the food delivery. I sighed and let go.
I went to shower and inhaled the soap-scented damp air of the bathroom. When I swiped the moisture off the mirror, I wished I hadn’t. The delicate skin under my eyes was inky dark. My hair hung in dirty clumps of tangled curls. A garish scab ran across my bruised neck. My eyes were swollen and bloodshot. But it was the look in them that shocked me. I didn’t recognize the girl staring back. Finn had been right; everyone has ghosts inside them, hidden hurts. My ghosts were a haze that clouded my eyes with sorrow.