Deaglan's Deception

by Belinda M Gordon

  I drove into town to find Brenna. The Pixies had been staying in the dollhouse since the flood washed out their home in the maple tree. Brenna left for Faery, fully briefed and promising to return quickly with an update, fifteen minutes after I arrived at Tressa's Treasures. Kerry went along with her, but Peter, who had never been to the Otherworld, stayed behind to be with Trayce.

  "You're going back to Faery?" Holly asked. She'd heard my instructions to Brenna, so she knew of the fighting going on there.

  "Aye, as soon as all the Sidhe can go with us." I held out my arms for the baby and she passed him over to me.

  "Do you think that's such a great idea? It sounds awfully dangerous there right now." She crossed her arms and hugged her waist. I nodded; there was no denying that what she said was true.

  "We have to help them." This time it was she who nodded, acknowledging the truth in my words.

  I clung to Trayce while we spoke, kissing his head and breathing in his sweet baby aroma. I could only imagine how much he would change during our absence. I would miss him desperately.

  "Do you think Xander will want Matt to go with you?" She looked at me anxiously. "They've fought together before…"

  "No. He won't take him into Faery." She sighed with relief and drooped her head.

  "I made a mistake, Tressa, when I let him go."

  "It's not too late. Tell him how you feel." She didn't react, so I didn't push. "I want to look around the showroom before I leave."

  She walked with me through the store. The sun, shining through the large front window, sparkled off a display of crystal and shot tiny rainbows around the room. Linda was assisting the lone customer over by the Belleek china. The jewelry display cabinet was fully stocked, and several more pieces were stored in my workroom. It would last for a while. Lastly, we came to the display of Holly's purses. I marveled at how far she had come in such a short time; the purses were beautifully crafted.

  "What do you want me to do with the shop? Should I keep it open?" Holly asked, biting her lip as she waited for my answer.

  "Pix, at this point this place is more yours than mine. You should do whatever is best for you. However, I would prefer that you keep it going." She grinned and nodded vigorously.

  "Please don't stay away too long," Holly said as she took Trayce from me and hugged me goodbye. "And be safe."

  Sloan spent the night at Gobban's store, insisting the Manor House was too full. I went to find her after leaving the shop; I needed to ask for a favor. I needed pozen seeds if I hoped to return to the Otherworld, and she could make a quick trip to Faery to get them for me. The only other person available was Ronan, and I didn't trust him.

  My walk to the furniture store took me past Saint Francis Church. I scrutinized the area in front of the main entrance. Nothing remained of the tragedy that had occurred there the day before. On impulse, I walked up the stairs and tried the door. It was open.

  The church was dimly lit and appeared to be empty. I strode to the first pew and sat on the far left side near the baptismal font. Yesterday it had been a rambling stream running through my bainis garden.

  I relaxed back and sighed. I had frequented this church to mark milestones in the lives of my human friends: weddings, christenings, funerals. The holy presence that dwelt in this building was palpable, and it gave me a sense of peace and calm whenever I entered.

  Today day was no exception. I felt covered with a blanket of warmth and love, the gentle presence of the spirit consoling me as I ruminated on the traditions it embodied. Humans often sought comfort and protection indoors, in places like this church. The Sidhe, by contrast, looked to the openness of nature. Our dead were not interred but set free on the water, to help the spirit float away to the afterlife. However, if the same energy that dwelt here surrounded Gobban's body, being buried in the human way might not be such a terrible thing.

  Someone coughed, subtly alerting me to his presence, before walking down the aisle toward me. I looked over my shoulder, half expecting Alexander. Instead, it was Lyle who slid down the pew behind me, leaving a polite distance between us.

  "Tressa, I'm sorry to disturb your meditation." He glanced at my hand with curiosity, and I realized I had been subconsciously rubbing the illusion stone. I slipped it into my jeans pocket. "I thought no one would be here."

  "In which case, I'm disturbing you as well," I said. "I'll leave you in peace. Alexander and I are preparing to go away, and I have a lot to get done before we go."

  "Ah, the honeymoon. Of course. I'm leaving soon too, so I guess this is goodbye,"

  "Oh?" His melancholy expression peaked my curiosity.

  "I've finished my work here, so I'm heading back to my base. I visit a church at the end of every assignment. It's a habit I developed long ago."

  "Weren't you in Findale to visit your girlfriend?"

  "Yes, and she had a lengthy 'honey do' list waiting for me. I think she may have brought me here on false pretenses." He winked to show that he didn't really mind. "When duty calls, I answer. But now it's time to go home. I'll miss the people I met here, including you and your husband."

  I preened a bit, enjoying hearing Alexander referred to as my husband. My giddy reaction made me feel like a schoolgirl, so I tried to hide it. His words reminded me that I had to get going myself. I wished him luck and left him to his own thoughts. He put up his hand, making an imaginary tip of his hat, when I noticed a red spot on his glove.

  "Are you bleeding?" I asked, reaching out to take his hand. He jerked it away.

  "It's nothing. I cut myself while I was working yesterday. It must have reopened."

  "You should get that looked at." I didn't offer to look at it myself. It was a small wound and if I healed him I would open his eyes to see through fae glamour, which Uncle Lomán had forbidden me to do.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Sloan rode with me to Pine Ridge with Max on her lap. While we drove I told her about the premonition Neve had had the previous night. We drove in silence after I finished my story, Sloan stroking and cuddling the dog as she stared out the window.

  "I guess I should go back anyway. The time must be coming for her mother's prophecy to come true," she said as we turned into the driveway. She continued to avert her gaze from me.

  "Neve said she doesn't know if that was a real premonition. Her mother may have made it up. Don't worry about something that isn't likely to happen."

  Neve's mother, who had a renowned ability of Darna Shealladh, Second Sight, had told Deaglan Mór that his own grandchild would kill him. He had been trying to torture information out of her at the time. Neve thought it possible that her mother invented the premonition, the only weapon she had with which to attack him.

  We rolled to a stop in front of the house. Keelin stood in the driveway with her eyes closed, her arms holding her stomach. She flinched at the sound of the car doors closing.

  "Is everything okay?" I asked.

  "The trees aren't reacting well to having so much drama around them. They're troubled by this strange fae they keep mentioning."

  "The Treefolk?"

  "No, I don't think so." She clutched her abdomen again. "I'm going to go lie down. Their anxiety is giving me a stomach ache. I'll be happy when this is all over and everyone goes back home."

  In my absence, Matt and Alexander and whoever could help them made improvements to the camp to help make our guests more comfortable. The sick were off the ground now, sitting or lying on an odd mix of lawn chairs and stick furniture retrieved after the water receded a few yards. More remnants from the original settlement sat out in the sun to dry after the mud had been washed off them.

  The men were handing out store-bought blankets from the back of the truck when Alexander noticed us. He trotted across the camp, leaving Matt to finish the job.

  "Hello, my beautiful bride." He kissed me and gave me a quick hug.

  "Oh yuk, get a room," Sloan said, scrunching her face in disgust. Alexander raised his eyebrows.

/>   "You can leave anytime, you know."

  "Evidently I am leaving. I'm going back to the Otherworld."

  He nodded, but something in the distance distracted him. Sloan and I turned to follow his gaze. Max had his nose to the ground, sniffing as he ran repeatedly around a two-foot spot at the base of a tree. His tail, normally always in motion, had stopped wagging.

  Alexander stalked toward the dog, leaving Sloan and me to run after him. He called to Matt who, at the sound of his name, hurried to join us. Max panted as he looked up at us, his eyes bright. He sprinted a couple of feet ahead and ran back again, as if asking us to follow him.

  "Isn't this the spot of the sniper perch, the night of the first Leprechaun shooting?" Alexander asked. Matt looked hesitant until he ran his finger along a gash in the bark of the tree trunk.

  "Yeah, this is it," he said, surprise evident in his voice.

  "Okay, Max. Lead the way."

  "I don't think Cocker Spaniels are that kind of dog," Sloan said.

  "Well he's not a regular Cocker, is he? He's from Faery. Let's go."

  We followed the small dog along the dirt road we used to get the truck to the camp. When we got to the spot where the road bore to the right towards home, Max went left, into the woods, following a path parallel to the street that led into town. He ran ahead of us, nose skimming the ground. Whenever we got too far behind him he bolted back, barking as if urging us to hurry.

  We had gone a mile through the heavy underbrush when Max burst into a clearing. Alexander pulled out his sword, signaling for everyone else to stay hidden in the trees. He inspected the area, looking for signs of danger. When he found it deserted, he waved us out.

  Someone had erected a lean-to made from puball cloth and two-by-fours. A circle of fieldstones, serving as a fire-pit, contained the charred remains of a campfire.

  "Someone's been living here," Sloan said. "But why? It's so far from anything."

  "It must be a fae. He has that weird tenting they use," Matt said, rubbing the edge of the fabric between his fingers and thumb. Something caught his eye; he knelt to see under the cot. "What's this?"

  He pulled out an army camouflage duffel bag. The top was open and several olive-green t-shirts fell out. We passed glances around our group. There was only one person we knew who wore these t-shirts.

  Matt turned the bag over, dumping its contents on the ground. Mixed in with the clothing were three familiar arrowheads.

  "But I don't understand. Lyle isn't fae. Is Granddad Dearest using humans to do his dirty work now?" Sloan asked, voicing what we were all thinking.

  ALEXANDER

  Max began barking with a fierceness to rival a dog three times his size at the distinct sound of a motorcycle slowing down and pulling off the road. The bike was heading through the woods in our direction, moving cautiously as it zig-zagged through the trees.

  I held my sword at the ready and glanced down, looking for the spearhead. Sloan crouched and picked it up without taking her eyes off the spot where Max still stared, growling low in his throat.

  "Boss, I don't have a weapon," Matt said, his voice low. I nodded.

  "Stay with Tressa in case she needs you."

  She sucked her teeth, but I didn't care if I had annoyed her, as long as she was safe.

  Lyle emerged from the forest and stopped the motorcycle at the edge of the clearing. He took a duffle bag off the back and pulled it over his shoulder. I had seen that same bag before, in the alley where Gobban's cousin Roger was killed.

  "What's going on, guys?" he said with a smile, apparently unperturbed at by finding us there. He ignored our drawn weapons.

  "We know you killed the Leprechauns. Put the bag down and step away from it. His bow must be in there," I added as an aside to the others.

  "My bow? Leprechauns? Come on, Alexander. It's me, Lyle."

  He threw out his hands in a gesture meant to show confusion. Max let out a high-pitched squeal, an ear-splitting battle cry, and charged at him. The dog jumped up and caught the top of Lyle's glove in his teeth. He bit down and ripped the glove off his hand.

  Lyle froze, his eyes bulging, as he stared at his exposed hand. His palm swam with blood. The shocking red color contrasted sharply with all the dull green and camouflage around us. Tressa gasped from behind me.

  "You're Ly Erg! You're fae." Her voice cracked from the shock. "You murdered Gobban."

  "He's what?" I asked.

  "I'm sorry I hurt you, Tressa, but I had orders. A soldier completes his mission," Lyle said, his tone filled with regret. I bristled at his excuse.

  "You're not a soldier. You're a nothing more than a hitman. Deaglan Mór paid you to do his dirty work." Lyle shrugged.

  "Mór said the little guys had wronged him. They had to be taken care of."

  "That's your take on justice?" I took a step in his direction. "Put down the bag. We're taking you back to Faery to stand trial."

  His eyes ran the length of my sword, then glanced at the spearhead in Sloan's hand. He shook his head.

  "You have two objects of power. To engage with either would mean certain death. I'm afraid I must bow out of this fight." He took several steps backwards; Sloan rushed toward him, but he caught the wind and flitted away before she reached him.

  "Don't try to follow him," Tressa cried out, her voice full of fear. "He could have gone anywhere." I grabbed Sloan's arm, knowing she couldn't flit with me holding onto her. She shook herself free.

  "Okay, okay."

  Tressa plopped down onto the cot in the lean-to as if her legs wouldn't hold her any longer. Max jumped into her lap and pushed his head under her hand until she began to pet him, running her hand down the length of his back.

  "Ly Erg. I should have known; the gloves should have given him away. I thought he was human." Everyone stared at her with puzzled expressions.

  "I give up. What's a Ly Erg?" Sloan asked, voicing the question we'd all been puzzling over.

  "Not what, but who. There's only one. An assassin who thinks he's a soldier. He carries the stain of the blood of his victims on his hands."

  "Will he come back?"

  "I doubt it," I said, shaking my head. He had finished what he came here to do: he'd killed the Leprechauns.

  I went to help Tressa stand when a familiar wailing burst from the direction of the campsite. The awful noise grated on my nerves; I had never understood how the Sidhe could find the sound soothing.

  "Banshees!" Tressa said, instantly alert and impatient to set off to find the source. "There may be trouble at the camp."

  TRESSA

  Sloan decided not to return to the camp with us. She and Max headed for the hidden threshold on the estate, promising to return with the pozen seeds as quickly as possible.

  We walked back briskly, listening to the Banshees' song. Tears filled my eyes as I imagined that they wailed for Gobban and all the people I'd lost in the last few years: my parents, my grandmother and even my brother, who had fallen in disgrace at the end. Yet in the back of my mind, I worried about the reason for their visit. They hadn't come when I expected them earlier; what would draw them here now?

  Neve and Ronan had their backs to us when we entered the camp, speaking to a row of five Banshees. Three of them appeared as young women while two others wore the faces of old hags. They were all dressed in white. An owl hooted from a tree branch over our heads, her song nearly drowned out by the wailing. Another Banshee, no doubt, not yet ready to change her form. The two Sidhe separated; Ronan flitted away and Neve came towards us, her face creased with worry.

  "That man's a stubborn fool," she said. "I tried to tell him he's too old, but he won't listen. He's running back."

  "Slow down, Mom. Tell us what's going on." Alexander led us over to a pair of chairs still sitting in the sun so we could speak privately. Neve and I sat, and she took our hands and squeezed them.

  "My gift has failed me again; I saw nothing to prevent this. My premonition wasn't helpful at all. I'm so sorry."
r />   "Neve, we don't know what you're talking about," I reminded her gently. She shook her head as if she couldn't bear to explain, but she soon found the words.

  "The Banshees bring us grave news. Mór has escalated from his skirmishes with the outlying villages to an all-out attack on Tir na nÓg. The Otherworld is at war. Hundreds of Seelie have died and more deaths are coming; everyone here has someone to mourn. If I had only been able to decipher his plan… I jumped from my seat with a sudden realization.

  "We just sent Sloan back there alone. We need to stop her."

  "She must be long gone by now. It would only take her a few seconds to get to the threshold," Neve said.

  "She didn't flit; she has the dog with her. Xander, hurry! Are you coming?"

  "He'll only slow you down. I'll go with you." Alexander looked at his mother doubtfully. "Let me do this. I want to do something useful. We'll be safe together; we can flit away from any problem."

  "I've heard that one before," he said. But he gestured for us to go ahead.

  When we arrived at the threshold, Sloan was just pulling away the branches and soggy leaves that hid the opening to the cave. Max sprinted to us, body wagging and a grin on his face.

  "Sloan, wait! You can't go," I called, breathing a sigh of relief that we had caught her. She dropped the branch she was holding and put her hands on her hips.

  "Damn, Tressa. Make up your mind! You're the one who sent me in the first place."

  "Haven't you heard the Banshees?" Neve asked.

  "Yeah, so what? Do we even know how many Sidhe died in the villages Granddad attacked? And a few died in the flood, too. It doesn't seem surprising that they're doing their screaming thing."

  Neve put an arm across Sloan's shoulders.

  "They've brought us terrible news. War has broken out in the Otherworld. Your grandfather is attacking Tir na nÓg."