by Megan Chance
“What happens to Grace if you don’t kill her?”
“I don’t know,” Diarmid said honestly. “But prophecies have a way of working themselves out. And never the way you want them to.”
“But you don’t know for certain, do you?”
“You’re the Seer. You tell me.”
Aidan’s face creased with worry. “I think, if the prophecy isn’t answered, it would be disaster. But it’s hard for me to see. When my grandmother’s visions transferred to me, her madness came with it. It’s all woven through. The prophecy is like a puzzle I have to put together. Some parts don’t fit, some don’t belong at all. But I can tell you this, Derry: something’s happened that no one expected. Grace is keeping it secret, but—”
The music stopped dead; the basement went suddenly, completely quiet. Diarmid glanced up. There, standing on the stairs—
“Who is that?” Aidan whispered.
Battle Annie.
She was surrounded by six other sidhe, one of whom was the girl who had come with Grace from the pawnshop. She caught sight of Diarmid and whispered something to Battle Annie, who looked right at him.
His breath stopped.
Annie smiled, showing those wicked, pointed teeth. “’Tis you I have need of, Diarmid Ua Duibhne. Come—before I decide to turn your party into a wake.”
October 27
Grace
Mama came into my room, bearing a large white box. “Look what’s arrived. Your debut gown.”
My debut. A long ago party for a long ago girl.
“I’ve no need for that now. I’m surprised you never canceled the order.”
“When you disappeared, I couldn’t bear to. I didn’t want to admit that you might not return.” She glanced toward the window, blinking away tears. “Well. It’s a good thing I didn’t. It will be perfect for the Nolans’ ball.”
Mr. Nolan was a member of the Fenian Brotherhood, and tonight was his annual ball to raise money for Irish independence. Patrick was obligated, and the Fomori had all accepted, but I hadn’t planned to attend.
“I’m not going, Mama.”
“Rory Nolan is very important,” she said firmly. “And you are Patrick’s fiancée.”
I laughed. “Samhain’s almost here. How can any of that matter?”
Four days from now. Four days before my world ended. How could I think of a ball? “The Fomori will find a way, my darling.”
“There’s so little time.” And there’s so much you don’t know.
Mama grasped my hand. “Grace, I must ask you to believe that you have a future. Can you do that for me?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“You must try.” She smiled, but I saw a misery in her eyes. “Please, Grace. For me. Don’t give in to despair.”
Her words echoed a memory. Diarmid on Governors Island just before the storm that sent us running for shelter and . . . and other things. “Despair is our enemy. . . . You can’t give up hope.” I couldn’t take that away from Mama. I lifted the gown from the box, and suddenly, I was in my room at Iobhar’s, lifting the same gown—glamoured—from a trunk. Numbly, I dressed. A maid came to put up my hair for the first time. Mama said that as an affianced woman, I was officially an adult. After tonight, I would not wear it down in public again.
I felt like an imposter as I stared at myself in the mirror.
“That pink is such a lovely color on you,” Mama said from the doorway.
“Devlin won’t be able to look away.”
I imagined Diarmid standing behind me, his eyes warm, and for a moment, my yearning for him was the strongest part of me.
But you can’t have him.
“Shall we go down?” Mama asked.
Patrick and his mother and Lucy waited at the bottom of the stairs. I saw his surprise, as if I were a stranger to him as well. He leaned close to whisper, “You look beautiful.”
We got into the carriage, and while Lucy and Mama and Mrs. Devlin chatted and laughed, Patrick and I were silent. I felt his eyes on me and tried not to look at him. I felt guilty enough, because I knew he still loved me, even after everything, and I felt small when I thought of how I’d betrayed his trust. I loved Patrick, but not the way he wanted me to love him.
And if I did have a future, I wasn’t certain I wanted marriage to be part of it. At least not yet. I’d only been away from the pawnshop for a day, but already I missed studying and learning, even if my teacher was a lying, dangerous, mercurial villain. I was a brithem, after all. Perhaps, if I survived . . .
Well, there was no point thinking it, not unless I discovered what the split veleda meant and what I could do about it.
When we arrived at the Nolans’, servants took our wraps and ushered us upstairs to the third floor ballroom. Through the crowd, I saw Tethra, with his huge mustache and its pointy waxed ends; Daire Donn, handsome as ever; Lot, her blond hair swept up and shining in the light, her gown a mesmerizing blue. They looked as if they belonged here, as if they’d been part of this society forever. In one corner, a quartet played, and couples whirled about the floor, skirts brushing the floorboards with a swish as women smiled into the eyes of their partners.
There had been a time when I longed for this. When I’d wanted to wear my hair up and dance at a real ball. When I would have given anything to have someone like Patrick Devlin at my side. But now, I only felt out of place and sad.
“Shall we dance?” Patrick asked.
“Shouldn’t we say hello to the Nolans first?”
“There’s a line. We’ll be waiting to say hello for an hour. Come, dance with me.”
I glanced at my mother, who gave me a reassuring nod as Patrick led me onto the dance floor. He was a good dancer; I barely had to think to follow him, which I was glad for, because I was slowly becoming aware of the whispers. First murmurs, and then louder—meant for me to hear. “How dare she!” “I heard she ran off with that gang boy, and we all know what must have happened then . . .” “. . . foolish to take her back.”
I felt a flush work its way up my throat and into my cheeks. Patrick’s jaw clenched. He squeezed my hand. “Ignore them.”
But it was hard to do. I felt people staring; I saw the way they spoke to each other behind their hands. When we went to get punch, the women near the table fled as if I were some terrible disease. I wished Aidan were here. Or Iobhar. A few well-placed bolts of lightning would be welcome, though admittedly, Iobhar might set the whole ballroom afire. Just now, I didn’t think I would object.
Patrick said softly, “You and I know what really happened. That’s all that matters.”
It didn’t really help. Then I saw my best friend, Rose Fitzgerald. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been at the Fulton ferry wharf, distracted by Aidan while Diarmid spirited me away. I felt a searing relief. “Look! Rose is here! Thank God!”
Patrick frowned. “I don’t know that you—”
But I was hurrying toward her before he could finish.
“Rose!” I called, and she turned. I slowed when I saw the rising panic in her eyes. No. No, not Rose too.
Her smile was nervous. “Oh. Grace. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I think no one did.” Urgently, I said, “Please tell me we’re still friends, Rose. Please—”
“I’m not allowed to speak with you.” She looked guilty and upset. “I want to, but . . . my mother’s coming. Tell me quickly: are you all right? Did he hurt you? Did he—”
“I’m fine.” I could hardly speak past the tightness in my throat. “He didn’t hurt me.” Not yet, anyway.
Rose looked relieved. She glanced past me. “I’m so happy. And I’m so sorry. Please understand, I—”
“Rose, dear, you must come meet Mrs. Getler.” Rose’s mother came up behind me.
“Hello, Mrs. Fitzgerald,” I said, forcing a smile.
She ignored me completely. If not for the fact that her mouth pinched, I would have thought myself still caught in Iobhar’s glamour.
She gestured imperiously to her daughter. “Come now, Rose.”
Rose gave me an apologetic look, and then was swept away. I was left standing alone. Everyone had seen my humiliation. Whispers gathered in force around me. I could have borne it better if it hadn’t been Rose. That she felt badly didn’t make it better. I wanted her to be braver. To be the Rose she was with me, flouting convention, cursing, kissing inappropriate boys. But I knew that was only the play Rose. The real Rose had been careful not to let anything mar her reputation, and I could not blame her for snubbing me. She had a life to live in society, and I . . . Oh, Rose! I wished she would come back so I could tell her everything.
But you can’t. And she can’t help you. No one can.
An arm came around my shoulder. I was enveloped by the scent of water lilies. Lot. “They’ve no idea of how important you are. They are nothing but ants beneath your feet.”
Not really the comfort I was looking for, though I knew she meant well, in her way. The life I’d been meant to lead had slipped away, and though moments before, I’d been feeling as if I’d outgrown it, I wanted it to be my choice whether to keep it or not. I was angry at myself for caring.
I went with Lot to Daire Donn, who took my hands. “Ah, my dear girl! Now you are with the most popular people in the room, eh?” He laughed, flashing white teeth, his chocolate eyes twinkling. “They’ll change their minds when they see how much we love you.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“We could make them,” Lot suggested. Her smile was light, but there was a menace beneath that made me think of the legends, the gnashing teeth in her breast and four eyes in her back. I was glad she was on my side. For now. “You will be a heroine. There will be statues in your honor.”
I didn’t want to point out that most statues were for the dead.
She and Daire Donn exchanged a look I couldn’t read, and he turned to me. “Come and sit with me awhile?” I nodded. He took me to a cushioned seat by an open window. The night air was chill, but it felt good against the stifling heat of the room. “Would you like some punch?”
“No, thank you.”
He made a face. “I don’t blame you. Tastes like sweet horse piss.” When I smiled, he gestured to the crowd. “The Fianna spread the rumors about you, and made certain everyone here heard them. They will stop at nothing to get what they want. If those in this room knew the truth, they would be more charitable.”
“Or perhaps not,” I said. “It’s not the kidnapping they care about. It’s that I was alone with him.”
“Ah yes. How do you think of him now, lass? Forgive me, ’tis only . . . the ball seirce. Ua Duibhne is quite unscrupulous, as I’m sure you know.”
I told him the same lie I’d told Patrick. “The spell has faded.”
I didn’t know if he believed me, but before he could say anything, Patrick came hurrying over, looking worried.
Daire Donn rose. “I’ll leave you to your fiancé.”
When he was gone, Patrick sat next to me. “What did Rose say?”
“She’s not allowed to speak to me,” I said bitterly. I glanced toward Mrs. Fitzgerald, who was preening as she flirted with Tethra. “Her mother cut me. She’s known me since I was a child. But now I’m a greater monster than a Fomorian sea god, it seems.”
“Grace—”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean that. It’s not Tethra who’s the monster.”
Patrick let out a breath. “Well, I think we’ve made enough of an appearance, don’t you?”
“Showing up was more than enough. But I don’t want to hurt your business . . . and neither your mother nor mine will be happy to leave. Lucy will be furious.”
Patrick seemed bemused. “You would stay and bear this just because they won’t want to go?”
My mother was laughing and talking with Lot. “She looks happy again.”
“She and Lot have become very close.”
“Mama believes they can save me,” I said quietly. “But I don’t think you do.”
Patrick hesitated. “It’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it here. Let me make our apologies to Mrs. Nolan and tell my mother we’re leaving. I’ll send the carriage back for them.”
“We’ll be unchaperoned.”
“Do you care?”
I looked around at those people who would not even meet my eye because they’d rather believe gossip and rumors than the truth. “No.”
“Then I’ll be right back.”
The music ended. People swarmed from the floor, avoiding me. It hurt more than I wanted to admit. I did care what these people thought of me. They’d known me my entire life; they had been my friends. But then again . . . they were right about one thing: Diarmid had changed me, and I did not think I could again be the Grace Knox they had known.
Suddenly I was suffocating.
Patrick returned. “That’s done—Grace?”
My protector. I could breathe again. “Are we ready?”
Patrick helped me to my feet. “More than ready.”
Once we were inside the carriage, I said, “Tell me why you don’t trust the Fomori.”
“I saw Miogach lose his temper, and it nearly ended with Aidan being dead. Miogach has apologized for it, but at the time, I thought they wanted Aidan’s death, even though I’d asked them not to hurt him.”
“But that’s not all, is it?”
Patrick shook his head. “Bres tells me there’s no spell to save you. They’ve come up with another plan.”
“Which is what?”
“A bargain with the Otherworld. Lot plans to trade with them to keep your soul after you die, the same way Aengus Og did with Diarmid—do you remember the legend? Did he ever tell you if it was true?”
“It was true, but he didn’t like it. And I don’t think I would like it either.” I felt deeply cold at the thought.
“It would be only temporary, until they could discover a way to bring you back permanently.”
“But there are no guarantees.”
“Lot’s convinced it will work. But I don’t know if I’m convinced, and . . .” Patrick paused.
I waited. I felt how much he didn’t want to say what came next.
“And they believe you have goddess power. They’re not fools. They see what that would bring us. To me, no power is worth losing you, but—”
“You think the Fomori won’t be able to resist it.”
“The Fianna too. Aidan’s just as nervous. They might just be telling us what we want to hear. When it comes to your life, I trust only Aidan.”
The name he didn’t mention was as loud as a shout.
Patrick’s eyes gleamed in the glow of a passing streetlamp. “Grace, I know everything’s different now—”
I felt a surge of panic. “Patrick—”
“I want you to know that for me nothing has changed. I still love you. I know that perhaps you no longer love me. But if you think you could again . . . if we survive this . . .”
I’d known this was coming. The hope in his eyes made it hard to say what I must. “You’re right, nothing’s the same. There are things I can’t undo.”
“If you mean with . . . with him . . . I know. I don’t care.”
I shouldn’t be surprised. Patrick had known about the lovespot; he must have suspected the rest. I knitted my fingers in my lap. “It’s not only that. The ritual and . . . how can we make promises if we don’t know that we can keep them? I mean, I may not even be around to keep them.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. And everything’s so confusing.” I wanted to tell him about the split so badly. “In silence is your only safety.” I thought I could trust Patrick, but could I really? Iobhar had made no exceptions. “I have to make a choice, and I can’t let anything blind me. Not love for him, or you, or . . . or anything else.”
“All right,” he said, and I saw how I’d hurt him. “But it would be best if everyone thought we’re still engaged. You’ll be safer if they
think I have a claim to you.”
“You do have a claim,” I whispered. “You know you do. You’re my protector.”
“But I want so much more than that, Grace.”
What could I say? We sat in uncomfortable silence the rest of the way to his house. I wanted nothing more than to go to bed, to not have to think or feel anything. The ball, the snubs, Rose’s slight, Patrick’s confession . . .
We stepped out of the carriage into a night grown colder; I shivered beneath my thin shawl.
“Grace.” Aidan’s voice came from the darkness. He stepped into the light.
Patrick glanced toward the porch and the guard, and whispered, “Are you mad, showing up this way?”
“I didn’t have a choice.” Aidan turned to me in apology. “We can’t wait, I’m afraid.”
I heard another sound in the darkness. Finn stepped forward. I hadn’t seen him since the night of the battle in my backyard, and I’d forgotten how overwhelming he was. He seemed to fill up the night, though he was no bigger than an ordinary man.
And then Diarmid came from behind him.
This could not be good, no matter that everything in me leaped to see him. “Hello, lass,” he said.
Patrick took my arm. “What is it? Why are you here?”
“It’s Battle Annie,” Aidan said. “She came looking for Grace.”
“The river pirate?” Patrick asked.
“The veleda made a bargain with her,” Finn said.
“But . . . but that was to be after,” I said. “After Samhain. If I was still alive.”
“Did she say that, Grace?” Diarmid asked. “Did she say after Samhain? In those words exactly?”
Even in the darkness, his gaze seemed to pierce me. “I thought . . . I thought that was what she meant.”
Grimly, he looked at Finn.
“I’m not letting her meet with any fairy,” Patrick said. “You must be insane to think it.”