by D. S. Murphy
According to Ethan, The Tuatha Dé had been able to defeat the Fomorians because they were using Fomorian blood. Merrow blood. Although the thought made me sick to my stomach, and what Sebastian had told me about the Tuatha Dé ’s breeding farms horrified me, right then I knew two things: The Tuatha Dé had successfully defeated a Fomorian army in the past, and if what I’d seen Ethan do was any indication, they were still around.
When I finally saw Ethan in the hall after second period, I made a beeline for him. I was planning to demand he listen to me, and had organized arguments in my head to overcome his objections. So I was surprised when he grabbed my wrist and whispered, “We need to talk.”
He dragged me to the nearest exit and pushed me outside. Did he know what I was? Was the dagger still in his backpack? I considered screaming as he led me around behind the school. He shoved me down onto the bench in front of the old chapel, then sat down next to me. He took a deep breath, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Sebastian is going to kill you.”
He said it like a confession. Like a secret. For a second, I wondered if he knew something I didn’t. But Sebastian wouldn’t hurt me.
“He killed Bedelia,” Ethan continued. “And the other girl, the one they found yesterday.”
I frowned. “No, he didn’t. He was with me, Jackie and Derry the day Bedelia was killed. And he was with me all day yesterday. He couldn’t have done it.”
“Then he had help,” Ethan said. “But trust me, he knows who is responsible.” I couldn’t argue with him on that point, so I changed the subject.
“On my second night here, someone put a note on my door,” I said, reaching into my bag. I’d pressed the scrap of parchment in a book. As I passed it to him our fingers brushed together and I felt a warmth, like an electrical current, pass between us. Ethan pulled his hand back suddenly—he’d felt it too. He studied the note; his lips moving as he mouthed the words silently. Then his eyebrows furled together in confusion.
“This doesn’t make any sense. You found this on your door?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, my hands folded in my lap. Ethan was already agitated, and I needed him to calm down so he’d open up to me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to try soothing his emotions. For the moment he seemed to be trying to protect me, rather than kill me—I didn’t want to press my luck.
“Why are you showing this to me?” Ethan asked.
“Because I think you know what it means,” I said.
Ethan ran his fingers through his hair, and a gust of wind blew a handful of leaves over our shoes.
“Look, I know you don’t owe me anything,” I pushed, “but I have a feeling I’m in danger. If that note is a threat, I need to find out who wants to hurt me.”
“It’s not a threat,” Ethan said, tracing the script with the tip of his finger. “I don’t think. More like a protective ward. But are you sure it was even for you? It doesn’t have your name on it. I mean, no offense but you’re new here. You haven’t had much time to make enemies.”
“I think it has something to do with my mother.”
I pulled out the photograph of my mom and her friends.
“Do you recognize this boy? His name was Colin Blake, he was friends with my mother.”
Ethan took the picture, his eyes widening.
“Um, yeah. That’s my uncle.”
I squeezed my eyes together.
What?
He reached into his bag, and I tensed on the edge of my seat. He wouldn’t stab me at school, in broad daylight, would he? I breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled out his school binder instead, and held it up for me. His name was written across the front.
Ethan Blake.
23
“Your mother was Branna Daly?” Ethan said, standing up and clenching his fists. “Holy shit.” We stared at each other in silence for a moment. It was like we were seeing each other for the first time.
“The weird thing is, I didn’t even know her real name until a month ago; she moved to America when she was sixteen and used a fake name, Branna Bishop. Then she married my dad and became Branna Clark. I’ve been Clara Clark my whole life, and now I’m suddenly in Ireland pulling skeletons out of closets.”
“And that’s not just a metaphor. My uncle Colin was murdered,” Ethan said.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “From what I can tell, the same night my mom fled the country.”
A flash of anger crossed Ethan’s face, and I realized again how much he looked like the man I saw in the pub.
“I hope you’re not saying your mom killed my uncle,” he said.
“I don’t think so,” I said, shaking my head. “I think someone was after my mom. Maybe the same person who killed your uncle. But if that note was meant to protect me, then somebody else knows what really happened, and thinks I’m in danger. Look, I have no idea what’s going on, and I’m obviously in way over my head. I need some answers.”
“About what?” he said.
“For starters… how you pushed Brody that far back. Or how you make other things move around. I’ve seen your tattoos flash, they burn like embers when you’re doing something unnatural.”
His eyes darkened, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He started walking away, and I followed behind him.
“Come on, I’ve seen it. I know it’s real, I just want to know how it works.”
We walked further away from the building, into an area of the grounds I hadn’t been to before. The small path led between some trees to a narrow gravel road, lined with sprawling beech trees. Their intersecting limbs stretched over the road to make an archway. Ethan stopped walking in the middle of the road, which was completely empty in both directions. He looked sullen, and when he opened his brooding mouth, I was afraid he was going to lie again. Instead he leaned in and said, “We aren’t allowed to talk about it.”
“How about if I guess?” I asked.
“No offense,” he smirked, “but I don’t think you’re that creative.”
I bit my lip. I’d have to choose my words carefully, or else Ethan would ask where my knowledge came from. “You said, in the library, that Lugh could only defeat the Fomori because he had Fomori blood in him. Lugh’s people were the Tuatha Dé, descendants of the Fomori. But each new generation would have less Fomori blood in them, making them weaker.”
Ethan crossed his arms, looking nervous.
“So I surmise,” I continued, “that the Tuatha Dé found a way to get more blood from the Fomorians, and use it somehow.” I reached over and pushed up his sleeve to reveal the large tattoo covering his upper arm and shoulder. As my fingertips touched his bicep, I felt the strange buzz of electricity again. For the first time, I realized the tattoo was a pair of dragons, bound together in a complex Celtic knot, with symbols hidden throughout the design. It was outlined in black, but the middle of each line was red. Blood red.
“Oh, and the Fomorians are merrow—mermaids. Half fish, half human. Did I miss anything?”
Ethan stared at me, too stunned to speak. Then he pulled his sleeve back down and grunted approvingly. “You know, you’re a lot smarter than you look.”
“Thanks a lot.” I rolled my eyes.
“I didn’t mean—I just meant, you know, beautiful girls aren’t always known for their brains,” he said, looking embarrassed. I was suddenly very aware of how alone we were. Alone, together.
Is that why he drew that picture of me? He thinks I’m beautiful? Focus.
“Anyway, now you can’t get in trouble, right? You’re not telling me anything I didn’t already know. You’re just filling in the details.”
He sighed, “I guess that makes sense. Though, you basically just admitted to believing in mermaids, so if you tell anybody else any of this they’re going to lock you up.”
“Mutually ensured destruction then,” I said, holding up my little finger. We pinkie-shook on it.
He ran his hand through his long, dark hair, and I caught a whiff of woodchips and musk. I was getting to
like the smell of him. I wondered what his house smelled like. We started walking down the road, looping around to the front of the school. It was strange how comfortable I felt with Ethan. I didn’t really trust him, and I was pretty sure he’d hate me if he found out what I was. But I also felt like I could be myself around him.
“In my family,” Ethan said finally, “we talk a lot about the old tales. And we know there is more to the world than most people accept.”
“Like magic,” I said.
“Kind of, though we call it the craft. It’s old magic, but you’re right, it works by merrow blood.”
“Can you tell me the history? From the beginning?”
“I can try,” he said. “But not here. How do you feel about a field trip?”
We’d reached the front of the school. I was prepared to go back in, but Ethan nodded towards the parking lot.
“It’s not even lunch yet, and you want me to leave school?” I asked.
“There’s a place I think you should see. It’ll help you understand. I can have us back before school’s out.”
Ethan walked over to his bike and pulled a spare helmet out of the seat. I hesitated before taking it. What would Sebastian think about me leaving school with Ethan, when I already knew he had a knife matching the one my attacker had used? What would my mother have thought about me jumping on the back of some guy’s motorcycle? But I couldn’t just go back inside and pretend to be a normal high school kid anymore. We had to find out who was killing girls my age, and then we had to stop them. If Ethan had answers, I needed to hear them. But that didn’t mean I had to be reckless.
“Let me just tell Jackie and Derry I’m with you,” I said, pulling out my phone. I scanned his face for a reaction, but he made no move to stop me. If he was planning on killing me, he wouldn’t want anybody else to know we were together, right? I sent them both the same message.
Left school for a while
with Ethan
text you later
At least now someone would know where to look for my body. I put the phone back in my pocket and strapped on the helmet. The first five minutes on the bike were exhilarating. I wrapped my arms around Ethan’s waist as we flew down narrow country roads, weaving between the grass-covered hills, my dark hair streaming in the wind like a kite. Twenty minutes later, my butt was asleep from the vibration, and my arms were getting sore from holding on. But it was worth it when we reached our destination.
“Welcome to Beaghmore,” Ethan said, after dismounting and helping me off the bike. We parked on the top of a small hill and I could see the site spread out before us—large stones stood straight up in a haphazard pattern. From what I could see, there were three rings of stones and one lone circle, which had hundreds of small pointed stones set into the ground inside a stone ring. Some of the standing stones were as tall as I was. Nearby was a large pile of rocks, surrounded by a wide depression, and then a ditch. It looked like a UFO had landed. The lawn around the stones was bright green and carefully trimmed, but where we were standing, the ground was dry, with tall yellow weeds.
“What’s that?” I pointed to the pile of rocks.
“Supposedly, a burial mound—a cairn.”
“But actually…” I prompted.
“I don’t know how much of this is true,” Ethan said, sitting on a nearby boulder. “This is just the story I was told.”
I nodded for him to continue.
“In the old days, so the legends go, the merrow came and taught humans technology. They taught us magic, how to use their blood. We were never sick, never hungry, never in pain. When the Fomorians were family, we had an unlimited supply of merrow blood. We were nearly as strong as they were, and we lived almost as long. But humans became dependent on it. More blood and we could survive any battle. More blood and we could outlive our enemies. Those who could get enough of it formed powerful dynasties. After a few decades of slaughtering each other, only twelve families remained.”
“This was the Tuatha Dé Danann: circle builders and metal workers, with Druidic arts and new, magical technology. They combined metallurgy and merrow blood magic to produce four powerful talismans. The Stone of Destiny, which would roar when the rightful king was inaugurated; The Spear of Lugh, which would always ensure victory; The Sword of Nuadha, from which no-one could escape; and The Cauldron of the Daghdha, from which no-one would go away unsatisfied. Every three branches of the Tuatha Dé formed one clan, and was given one of the talismans for safekeeping. This ensured they’d never go to war against each other.”
Ethan lifted up his sleeve and showed me a tattoo on his wrist. It was small and looked like a family crest. Close up, I could see it had the design of a spear in the center.
“You’re a descendant of Lugh?” I asked, with a sharp intake of breath.
“That’s the story anyway. It was a long time ago, and sometimes I wonder if the families just made up their heritage. I mean, we have legends about the talismans, great feats of magic and power—but I’ve never seen them. Powerful artifacts like that were literally fueled by merrow blood. They drank it like a car drinks gasoline.”
“That’s when the merrow began to disappear,” I said, the stories starting to come together in my mind.
Ethan nodded. “When they left, our way of life was destroyed. We learned how to conserve the blood, channel it, and focus it. But even so, the blood was scarce. Soon it was a hundred times more valuable than gold. Fishermen who caught a merrow child could earn a whole year’s wages.”
I nodded. Sebastian had already told me most of this.
“The merrow reciprocated. They’d come on land and charm all the children into the ocean with their music. That’s where the pied piper story really comes from—they could make humans do just about anything. Sometimes they’d make a whole town march to the cliffs and throw themselves into the sea. Those are the old stories, anyway.”
Sebastian hadn’t told me that part.
“And the magic? How does it work?” I asked.
“It’s not like the magic you see in movies; making an elephant appear or disappear. It’s more like sympathetic magic. You know, like attracts like.”
He pulled a small stone from his pocket and held it up. With the light behind it, I could see it was dark blue. “The Fomori who came on land used these: they called them Bætulia, or contriving stones. They were supposed to fall from heaven.”
He held it over his motorcycle keys, and I saw them move.
“It’s a magnet!” I said.
“Kind of, but not as limited. Merrow blood is magnetically charged, because they live so deep in the ocean, closer to the earth’s crust. Their blood is full of minerals and metals; including some very trace elements that don’t seem to exist anywhere else. It reacts to the Bætulia in unique ways. A drop of merrow blood on a ten-ton boulder, for example, and we can use Bætulia to lift it up. That’s how Beaghmore and other megaliths were made. The merrow did it themselves, at first, to mark their territory.”
“And the tattoos?” I prompted.
“The tattoos are made from special ink, a mix of merrow blood and powdered Bætulia. The combination is like stored up gunpowder; I can draw on it when I need to, activating it with some special words or incantations, focusing my attention, drawing the energy to other parts of my body.”
He pulled up his shirt to show me more of the tattoo, a trail of runes and symbols that went from his neck down to his chiseled abdomen.
“Show me,” I said, hungry for knowledge.
Ethan grinned and took his shirt off. The double dragons wrapped around his neck and shoulders, crossing several times across his back, with the tails disappearing under the top of Ethan’s pants. His chest was smooth and muscular. I felt my cheeks grow warm.
“The tattoos store energy, but it’s limited. If I pick up a small stone or object, it costs me a little. If I throw it with force, it costs more. It’s usually more efficient to direct the energy inward, to speed up my movement, my reacti
ons, my strength.”
“That’s what you did to Brody?” I asked.
“Yes. But, I don’t have enough ink in me to lift one of these big stones. It would take several of us together to move it. And even then, we can only lift our own weight; unless we also put a drop of blood on the stone itself, which boosts the effects. This,” he said, “was a training ground. Most of these stones were smeared with merrow blood, a long, long time ago, which makes it easier for me to lift them.”
Ethan reached out a hand towards the circle full of small stones, and I saw them tremble in the ground like little gophers pushing up dirt. “But like I said, merrow blood is precious. It would be wasteful to use it just to show off for a girl,” he said, smirking. “Plus there are much cooler things we can do, that don’t take as much energy.”
He walked over to a bush and grabbed a handful of leaves, then threw them up in the air. He held his hands out like he was trying to shoot lighting from his fingertips and whispered some words I didn’t understand. I saw one of the symbols in his tattoo flare up and heard a hissing noise. Instead of falling, the leaves floated higher, coming together in pairs. When each had a partner, they flapped around like butterflies. I clapped my hands as they spun around us. One of them landed on my arm, then took off again.
“Drumroll, please,” Ethan said. I slapped my hands against my thighs to make a rhythm. He brought his arm down sharply, and all the leaves burst into flame, turning into a cloud of sparks and burning embers. They floated in the air around us like fireflies, darting between the ancient standing stones, before winking out one by one.