The Veil (Fianna Trilogy Book 3)

by Megan Chance

  Only Sarnat’s quick hand on my arm kept me from sinking to my knees.

  “No.” My voice sounded far away. “No. Please.”

  “The veil between worlds will open on Samhain,” Iobhar went on ruthlessly. “And the sacrifice will release your power to your choice. There is no other spell, veleda. Your people did their work well. ’Tis your fate. And that of your lover.”

  “But fate is ever-changing, isn’t that true? And I can change this. I have to change it.”

  “The cycle is already half-done, veleda. What you must do now is complete it. If you do not, the world will end in chaos. Not that it matters to me, particularly.”

  I heard the power of the truth in his words. “Did the Fomori lie to me? Did they know there was no other way?”

  Iobhar shrugged. “Is hope a lie? Blame your ancestors, and not the old gods and warriors, who are as bound as you are. Your people knew what they deeded you, and they cared nothing of the price you would pay. ’Twas more important to them to have the last word. They could not resist making the Fianna feel their power, as needless as it was. All men eventually pay for the consequences of their deeds. The Fianna would have learned their lesson at the hands of those who despised them. ’Twas what they deserved. No more than that. And no less.”

  “And so I have to die.”

  Iobhar came to me, his amber eyes glittering. “’Tis a hard thing for a mortal lass. I could help you, if you wish.”

  “Help me? How?”

  Sarnat’s hand tightened on my arm.

  I pulled away. Iobhar’s music made it hard to think. He leaned close, whispering, “Let me drink you up, veleda. None of this will matter if your power is gone. Your Diarmid will be relieved of his task and his pain. The Fianna do not belong in this world. Let them die.”

  A kiss and it would be done. A long drink of power, and I would be relieved of my choice, and I would be free.

  Oh, it was tempting. I found myself lifting my hand, reaching to touch him—

  A bad chord intruded, corrupting his music. I heard the wrongness of it. I saw the Fianna disappearing, crumbling to dust. I saw Diarmid calling to me. I saw myself, eyes blank, as drained and mad as the Druid we’d met at Coney Island.

  “No,” I said. “No, not that.”

  The bones in Iobhar’s face took on harder edges. “Then you will indeed die.”

  Bright sunshine slanted through the large front windows, the bustle of life that had nothing to do with Druids and spells. Except it did, didn’t it? Stories told us how to survive a complicated world, how to know right from wrong, good from evil. Stories said that what we did mattered.

  Patrick was willing to sacrifice his life for Ireland. Diarmid had pledged himself to the Fianna, to a service bigger than himself. I could choose to run. I could surrender to Iobhar and turn myself into a madwoman, let the Fianna die, and chaos rule. Or I could make a difference in the world.

  I took a deep breath. “Train me, then. Teach me the incantation. Teach me what I need to know.”

  Iobhar cocked a brow. “Are you certain, veleda?”

  “I’m certain,” I said.

  August 22

  Diarmid

  Diarmid had been in every warehouse and two-cent stale-beer dive and saloon on the waterfront, every shop and restaurant. He’d spoken to sailors and stevedores, gang boys and thieves. His face was still plastered everywhere, and he risked that someone would recognize him, but it would be worth it if he found news of Grace.

  Battle Annie and her sidhe were nowhere—no one had seen them or heard from them. The other river gangs only said things like, “Try Brooklyn,” or “Ain’t seen ’em in months, and good riddance.”

  But Brooklyn had already been tried; Keenan and Goll were over there every day. They were growing desperate. It had been almost a month since she’d disappeared.

  He turned down an alley he’d already haunted a dozen times, because at the end of it was a ten-pin bowling alley the gang boys liked. It was twilight, the change of worlds, when the sidhe were most comfortable, though he hadn’t seen any tonight. The crash of pins falling and scattering came from a tenement at the end of the street. He stepped aside just as a bowling ball thundered out the open door, slowing to a stop only a few yards behind him.

  A boy chased after it, waving to Diarmid before retrieving the ball and lugging it clumsily back. “Hiya, Derry. Care to play?”

  Diarmid shook his head. “Anyone new up there today?”

  “Nope. No one.”

  Diarmid rubbed his eyes, trying to banish his exhaustion and disappointment.

  Where is she?

  He debated whether to stay out tonight, as he had the last two, searching for her in the darkness along the riverfront. The discontent and violence grew worse with every passing day, but he preferred it to being in the basement flat with the others. Preferred it to Finn’s watchfulness and his own anxiety and Aidan’s hostile gaze.

  Yet he needed sleep. His exhaustion was starting to win out over his good sense. He was on edge, as willing to start a fight as to avoid one. Better to go home, to rest.

  He slipped into one alley, through a crowded dive, and out a cardboard-covered back door. At the street, he paused, looking for policemen.

  Instead, he saw Aidan.

  Diarmid drew back into the shadows, wondering why, even as he did so. He should be doing exactly the opposite. Aidan was alone, which he shouldn’t be. He was too valuable. Finn had asked Aidan to keep one of them with him at all times.

  Grace’s brother looked jumpy. It was obvious he didn’t want to be seen. Who was he hiding from? The sidhe? Or the Fomori?

  Or the Fianna?

  Diarmid wanted to find out, and Aidan needed protection, so he stepped from his hiding place. He went up behind Aidan, clapping him on the back. Aidan started so badly, he stumbled.

  “Damn, Derry, you frightened me.”

  “You should be more careful. I snuck up on you easily. I thought Finn told you not to go out without a guard. The sidhe are everywhere.”

  “I haven’t seen a single one tonight. Anyway, I can protect myself.” Aidan split the walk with a thin bolt of lightning.

  “The sidhe are quick. They’d be on you before you knew it.”

  “I don’t want a guard.”

  “’Tisn’t your decision to make.”

  “I’m not like you. I’m no slave to Finn’s whims. The rest of you won’t make a move without his approval.”

  “He’s our captain.”

  “And he’s right about everything, is that it?”

  “No, but questioning him makes us vulnerable. We have to act together.”

  “As one. Indivisible.” Aidan laughed sarcastically. “Even when he asks you to do something you know is wrong?”

  Where is this going? “I’ve vowed to follow him.”

  “So when he tells you to let him seduce my sister, whom you claim to love, and then he orders you to put a knife to her throat, you’ll do it?”

  Diarmid’s heart clenched. “’Tisn’t that simple.”

  “What happens if you don’t do what Finn wants?” Aidan stopped, turning to face him. “Death? But you’ve died before, haven’t you? Was it so terrible that you’re still afraid of it?”

  Tell me how it feels to die.

  “I’m not afraid of death,” Diarmid said. “But I don’t want to die for nothing. I’m Fianna, Aidan. D’you know what that means? I’ve vowed to serve the Irish, to protect them with my life if I have to.”

  “A vow that was easy to put aside once, wasn’t it?”

  “I never put it aside. I just forgot what it meant. We all did. And that was a long time ago. We’ve changed.”

  “Have you?” Aidan asked scornfully. “I’ve heard the tales, you know. How beloved the Fianna were. Exalted. Gods, even. But you were corrupted by tributes and women. You’re just as arrogant and ruthless as the tales tell. All of you.”

  It shouldn’t have stung, but it did. “If that’s w
hat you think, why have you joined us?”

  “When I was a boy, I wanted to be one of the Fianna too. I believed in things like blind loyalty.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Diarmid insisted. “Why choose us now? Why not fight for the Fomori if you think we’re arrogant and blind?”

  “Because I can see a future with the Fianna,” Aidan said. “Ireland . . . I couldn’t care less about it. Ireland’s done, but this is my city, and here we can find a place for ourselves. These gang boys have been searching for something to believe in, and the Fianna have given them that. I want to help. But I won’t follow blindly. And you haven’t always. You went against Finn once before for the love of a girl.”

  “It was a mistake,” Diarmid said. “I was compelled. There was a geis.”

  “You’re saying you had no free will? That you don’t have it now?”

  “I’m bound. You know it as well as I.”

  “But you broke those bindings once. You defied Finn.”

  “And I’ll regret it every day of my life. It tore the Fianna apart. The only thing I’d ever really wanted to be part of. I’d thought the Fianna could never be divided, but I managed to do it. Me. I did what no one else had ever done, what no one ever thought could be done.” Diarmid didn’t try to hide his misery. “Finn was everything to me, and I let a lass come between us and all I cared about. So don’t tell me I should be defying him for love. I won’t tear apart the Fianna again. I can’t.”

  “So it’s redemption you’re looking for?” Aidan’s blue eyes were electric. “Perhaps Finn will forgive you at last, but how will you forgive yourself? Or was it a lie when you told me you loved Grace?”

  “’Tis no lie,” Diarmid said.

  “Then I hope your honor will be comfort enough when she’s dead.”

  Diarmid said hopelessly, “You don’t understand.”

  “I understand that you’ll kill her to win Finn’s favor, even if you love her. I suppose you believe in her goddess power, too, and what it can bring you—”

  “By the gods, I don’t care about her power!” Diarmid erupted. “I’d give anything to keep her alive, can’t you see that? I’d sacrifice myself to save her. But it isn’t just me. Other lives depend on this.” He felt such grief and regret and sorrow, he could hardly say the rest. “She asked me once to change the world for her. I’ve tried. I’m trying. The archdruid is the only hope I have.”

  “Another spell, you mean,” Aidan said quietly. “Do you think there is one?”

  “No. But ’tis the only thing I can think to do.”

  Aidan reached into his pocket, taking out the ogham stick.

  “Does Finn know you have that?” Diarmid asked.

  “He gave it to me. It belongs to my family, after all. I think the prophecy written on it has something to do with all this. I’m trying to figure out what Grace understood about it. I think if I can decipher it, I’ll know where she’s gone.”

  “She hasn’t gone anywhere,” Diarmid said. “She was taken. She wouldn’t have left me.”

  Aidan looked at him thoughtfully. “You were really raised by the god of love, Aengus Og?”

  “Aye.”

  “I’d expect you to know more about love, then. Or perhaps it’s simply Grace you don’t know.”

  “I feel like I’ve known her the whole of my life,” Diarmid said.

  “But I have known her nearly the whole of mine. And I think you’re wrong. No one took her. She set off on her own to look for the archdruid. But what she found . . . I don’t know.” He paused. “Do you remember that night you came upon me in the gambling hell?”

  “Aye.”

  “You saved my life that night, though you didn’t know it,” Aidan said. “And then Finn saved it doubly when he saw what I was. I’m grateful to both of you. More than I can say.”

  Diarmid hadn’t known that. It made him vaguely uncomfortable. “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because as grateful as I am, I’m not willing to follow a debt into hell—unlike you. It doesn’t matter what I owe you; I won’t trust you until you earn it. So I want you to know: I’m going to find my sister, and when I do, I’ll keep her safe, whatever it takes. Whoever I have to call upon.”

  “What does that mean?” Diarmid asked.

  Aidan’s expression hardened. “Just remember it. You do what you feel you must. So will I, and hope to God we agree.”

  The first week (sidhe time)

  Grace

  I don’t understand how this is teaching me anything.” I stared down at the game board, set with gold- and bronze-colored pieces, on the table between us.

  Iobhar moved one of his pieces to block mine. “Fidchell is wooden wisdom, veleda.”

  “It’s wasting time.” I moved my piece. He blocked it again. “Shouldn’t I be learning spells or something? I only have a few—” I couldn’t say the word. I didn’t even want to think it.

  “Days?” Iobhar provided with a cruel little smile.

  My stomach dropped. “I was going to say weeks.”

  “A week, a day, a year, a century. What does time matter?”

  “I suppose it doesn’t to an immortal.”

  Roddy glanced up. He was sitting at the counter, dusting each piece of jewelry in the glass case. “Most Druid teaching takes . . . what was it I told you?”

  “Fifteen to twenty years,” Iobhar said.

  “Years?” I asked in disbelief. “I don’t have years.”

  Iobhar moved a piece, neatly surrounding my banán, the king piece whose escape was the entire goal of the game.

  Sarnat rolled a ball for Cuan, who chased it and brought it back, tail wagging. I said to Iobhar in a low voice, “Do you suppose he really enjoys that?”

  “He’s been a dog for some time. And he was never clever to begin with. Your move.”

  “I don’t want to play. I want to learn. Spells and incantations, whatever it is I’m supposed to know.”

  “You’re supposed to know fidchell.”

  “You beat me every time.”

  “We could go on to divination, if you like. We’ll begin with animal entrails. Those of a dog are easy, and we’ve one here, so . . .”

  I looked at him in horror. “You couldn’t mean to kill Cuan!”

  He shrugged.

  I glanced at Sarnat, who mouthed: Let’s leave this place. I shook my head and turned back to the game. I shoved a piece to a square that looked good. There was no rhyme or reason to the one I chose; the game was nearly a mystery to me.

  Iobhar sighed. “I begin to despair of you, veleda. How can you not know what to do?”

  “I’ve only just discovered I am the veleda. Until a few days ago, I’d hoped . . . I’d thought . . .” I trailed off, not knowing what to say.

  “That you were just a lass with a strange power that meant nothing?” Iobhar leaned over the table, those eyes golden with intensity. “Play the game as a veleda born and bred, not as a fearful commoner.”

  I looked down at the board, trying to find the escape route, the right strategy. He had already left me with nowhere to go.

  He mocked, “You try to think it out. Listen.”

  I tried. But all I heard was his music, that tempting melody. I blocked it and moved a piece.

  Iobhar said, “You’ve lost.”

  “I hate this game!”

  “Set it up again.”

  I rose. “No. Let’s move on to something else. I haven’t the time for this. I don’t have fifteen years.”

  “If you fail this, you’ll fail the rest.”

  I sagged back into the chair. “I didn’t expect it to be so hard. Or so stupid.”

  “You rely on your mind and your eyes, the senses most easily deceived. ’Tis your power you must harness, and that doesn’t come from the mind, but from here—” He tapped his heart.

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “Nothing worth doing is easy,” he said contemptuously. “How disappointed your ancestors wou
ld be. A long line of powerful priestesses ending in you. The great Neasa seeding nothing but a shallow-rooted weed.”

  I pushed aside the board so that the pieces scattered. “If that’s what you think, why are you bothering with me? Why not just drink my power and be done with it?”

  Sarnat said, “Milady—”

  “Perhaps I will yet,” Iobhar said. “It seems you’re worth little more than one or two days of feasting. You are nothing.”

  I glared at him. “How am I nothing if the fate of the Irish hangs on my choice?”

  Iobhar’s gaze was so cold I shivered. “You are nothing to me. These are mortal affairs, and I care little for them. I’m doing you a favor, veleda—don’t forget it. I would drain your power in a moment if I tired of you.”

  Roddy stiffened, and Sarnat threw me a warning look. Iobhar’s threat raised the hair on the back of my neck. I swallowed hard.

  He rose. “Come with me. Not your watchdog, just you.”

  “Where to?”

  “Another test,” Iobhar said. “And do not fail this one.”

  He took me to an empty room—that there even was an empty room in this place was shocking. It was small, with no window. He asked me:

  “What is blacker than a raven?”

  “What is whiter than snow?”

  “What is sharper than the sword?”

  I guessed wrong each time, but he didn’t seem angry, or even concerned. He only said, “He who holds must first have discovered. He who has discovered must first have sought. He who has sought must first have braved all impediments.”

  “Could you be more confusing?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Sit on the floor.”

  I did. My palms were damp with sweat.

  “Now you must find the breaking of time.”

  Perfect. “I’d been hoping for something easier. Like putting out the sun with my bare hands.”

  He didn’t smile. “Think of nothing, veleda, and keep thinking of nothing until time and space fall away.”

  Then he left me.

  With the door closed, and no window, the darkness was pressing, the silence unbearably loud. I clenched and unclenched my fists and tried to think of nothing. I listened for music, for my brother. I thought of my family and Patrick, the Fomori and the Fianna, but it was as if a wall had been put up between me and the rest of the world. I closed my eyes, imagining Diarmid’s touch, his kiss. The geis. Suddenly it was all I could think of.