The Undivided
Page 1
“FOR THE FAVOURITE”
Contents
Author's Note
Prologue
It shouldn’t be so easy to take a life.
Part One
Chapter 1
‘If we had to take our clothes off, couldn’t we…
Chapter 2
‘You’re wounded, Leath tiarna.’
Chapter 3
‘How long have you been here at Temair now, Brydie?’…
Chapter 4
With a final and eminently satisfying shake of his thick…
Chapter 5
The only thing that made losing one’s magic bearable, Trása…
Chapter 6
‘Better the blood of two innocents, than the blood of…
Chapter 7
‘There are things you need to know, Brydie,’ the queen…
Chapter 8
By the time breakfast was almost done, the plans for…
Chapter 9
Normally, Trása loved to fly. Or rather, she loved to…
Chapter 10
To avoid the paparazzi waiting outside the main gate, Ren,…
Chapter 11
Somewhat to Trása’s amazement, Dublin Guided Limousine Tours had a…
Chapter 12
Every morning, just before dawn, Jack O’Righin climbed out of…
Chapter 13
It took Trása more than a day to find the…
Chapter 14
Ren hurried through the dining room, down the long polished…
Chapter 15
They ended up simply walking around the block, but it…
Chapter 16
The day dragged for Darragh, made worse by the wound…
Chapter 17
When Ren gave his statement to the Gardaí several hours…
Chapter 18
Brydie came to Darragh’s room later that night. She let…
Chapter 19
‘What the hell is going on here?’
Chapter 20
‘What does one have to do to get thrown in…
Chapter 21
Brydie woke with a dreadful headache. The room was dark,…
Chapter 22
Hayley wasn’t sure when she became aware of her surroundings…
Chapter 23
‘Anything coming?’
Chapter 24
‘I’ll kill you if I have to, to stop this.’
Chapter 25
‘I’m very disappointed in you, Ren,’ Eunice said, taking the…
Part Two
Chapter 26
Groggy and unsettled by his nightmares, Ren woke to the…
Chapter 27
‘Better the blood of two innocents, than the blood of…
Chapter 28
Filled with trepidation, Ren followed Niamh and the big scary…
Chapter 29
Darragh took the better part of a day to reach…
Chapter 30
Trása was intensely relieved to be heading home. She stepped…
Chapter 31
Ciarán came at Rónán with a vicious flurry of sword…
Chapter 32
‘How did you find me?’
Chapter 33
Killing things always evoked mixed feelings in Sorcha. If she…
Chapter 34
Hayley’s fog lifted slowly to be replaced by light-headedness and…
Chapter 35
Most of the blood in which Ren was drenched wasn’t…
Chapter 36
Darragh managed to sneak back into his chamber at Sí…
Chapter 37
The Giant’s Causeway at sunset looked exactly like the entrance…
Chapter 38
Marcroy Tarth was an oddity among the Tuatha Dé Danann.
Chapter 39
‘Have you been to many other realities?’ Ren asked, as…
Chapter 40
Darragh glanced around at the gathered Druids, the rest of…
Chapter 41
As the high priestess began the long ceremony to wind…
Chapter 42
Trása’s summons to visit her uncle, Marcroy Tarth, arrived via…
Chapter 43
‘My lord Ciarán! You’re back!’ Colmán exclaimed.
Chapter 44
It was uncomfortable, being a mouse. One was always being…
Chapter 45
Trása circled the shepherd’s hut near Breaga once to be…
Part Three
Chapter 46
It was weeks before Darragh saw Rónán again. It was…
Chapter 47
When Ren recovered consciousness, it was to find Sorcha leaning…
Chapter 48
Hayley hated sitting in her armchair by the window, like…
Chapter 49
Jamaspa managed to break out of Sí an Bhrú late…
Chapter 50
Trása’s rough landing hurt. A lot. She’d not expected to…
Chapter 51
Although he knew things about this realm, thanks to the…
Chapter 52
Warren’s home proved to be an upmarket detached suburban house…
Chapter 53
The air in this realm was wrong.
Chapter 54
Ren drove carefully, acutely aware that time was not on…
Chapter 55
Jack O’Righin had an abiding mistrust of the law and…
Chapter 56
It took some time to get the truth out of…
Chapter 57
‘She’s an in-patient at St Christopher’s Visual Rehabilitation Centre,’ Jack told…
Chapter 58
‘You speak nonsense, Marcroy Tarth.’
Chapter 59
‘You’re not going in there alone,’ Sorcha announced.
Chapter 60
Dinner was served before five every evening in St Christopher’s Visual…
Chapter 61
There was a moment … a split second of suspended time as…
Chapter 62
Driving turned out to be trickier than it looked.
Chapter 63
The Audi was parked at the far end of the…
Chapter 64
Pushed through a crackling curtain of light so bright even…
Chapter 65
By dawn, Darragh was in agony. He was chilled to…
Chapter 66
‘God … what happened?’
Epilogue
Brydie woke to a world that was tinted purple. For…
The World of the Faerie and the Undivided
About the Author
Other Books by Jennifer Fallon
Copyright
AUTHOR’S NOTE
There are some real places in this story (obviously), including the Castle Golf Club in Dublin. While I’m sure they’ll forgive me for carving up their fairways with an imaginary car chase, the stone circle hidden in the rough on the ninth hole does not exist (that I know of), nor does St Christopher’s Visual Rehabilitation Centre, something you might have figured out if you realised why I called it St Christopher’s.
If my Gaelic is correct, then it is thanks to the awesome talents and advice of the lovely Josephine Walsh. If it’s wrong, it’s my fault. Thanks also to Gillian Pollack for her advice regarding Druids, bards and ancient Celtic locations, as well as to Lyn Tranter, Mark Timmony, Sharyn Lilley and my daughter TJ, for their incisive advice and proofreading.
As for the Druids and the Tuatha Dé Danann, I don’t doubt for a moment there are many readers out there who are preparing to email me as we speak, telling me how wrong I got them. Please don’t. This is a story of alternate realities and, more im
portantly, a story about how things are distorted over time. Of course, things have changed over the past 2000 years. Even in a reality where the people cling desperately to the status quo, the very act of clinging will force changes on them they could not anticipate.
If, however, you actually know a genuine member of the Tuatha Dé Danann, by all means drop me a line. I’d truly love to meet them.
Jennifer Fallon
Oxford, New Zealand 2010
PROLOGUE
It shouldn’t be so easy to take a life.
The assassin pondered that thought as he approached the cradle rocking gently in the centre of the warm, candle-lit chamber. Their mother would have set the cradle in motion to soothe the twins before she left the room, trusting their visitor so profoundly that it would never occur to her the children might be in danger.
He reached the cradle and stopped to study it for a moment. The oak crib was carved with elaborate Celtic knot-work, inlaid with softly glowing mother-of-pearl brought up from the very depths of the ocean by the magical Walrus People, the marra-warra. It had been a gift from Queen Orlagh, centuries ago, and had rocked generations of twins to sleep since then.
Generations that would end now. Tonight. By his hand.
He glanced down at the blade he carried. The airgead sídhe caught the candlelight in odd places, illuminating the engraving on the blade. He hefted the razor-sharp weapon in his hand. Faerie silver was useless in battle, but for this task, nothing else would suffice.
Warmed by the fire crackling in the fire pit in the centre of the large round chamber, the twins slept peacefully, curled together like soft, precious petals, the left one sucking her thumb, the other making soft suckling motions with her mouth, unconsciously mirroring her sister. The girls were sated and content, blissfully ignorant of their approaching death. Even if they had been awake, it was unlikely they would recognise the danger that hovered over them. The man wielding the blade above their cradle — the man who had come to take their lives — was a friend, a dependable presence they trusted to keep them safe.
‘You can’t seriously mean to do this.’
He glanced over his shoulder. A figure stood in the shadows by the door, a presence that was both alien and familiar. A presence so like himself it may have been nothing more than a corporeal manifestation of his own conscience.
‘It has to be done. You know that.’
The figure by the door shook his head and took a step further into the room. The assassin found himself staring at a mirror image of himself, except the face of his reflection was filled with doubt and anguish, while his own was calm and resigned to what must be done.
‘They are innocent,’ the anguished manifestation of his guilt announced.
‘They are our death.’
‘If preventing our death requires the death of innocent children, then perhaps we deserve to die.’
The assassin didn’t answer, turning back to stare down at the twin girls he had come to murder. It wasn’t who they were, but what, that made their deaths so necessary.
Why am I the only one who sees that clearly?
His conscience took another step closer. ‘I won’t let you do it.’ ‘How will you stop me?’ he asked as he raised the blade. One of the girls was stirring — they were too alike to tell which was which. She opened her eyes to smile up at him, her face framed by soft dark curls. Her sister remained asleep, still peacefully sucking her thumb.
Which will be harder? he wondered idly. Killing the one who is asleep and ignorant of her fate, or the one staring up at me with that sleepy, contented smile?
‘I’ll kill you if I have to, to stop this.’
The assassin smiled down at the twins, dismissing the empty threat. ‘Even if you could get across this room before the deed is done, you can’t kill me without killing yourself, which would achieve precisely what I am here to prevent.’
He moved the blade a little, repositioning his grip. The candlelight danced across its engraved surface, mesmerising the baby. He was happy to entertain her with the pretty lights for a few moments. His mission was to kill her and her sister, after all, not to make her suffer.
There was a drawn-out silence as he played the light across the blade. Behind him, the presence that was both his conscience and his other half remained motionless. There was no point in his trying to attack. They were two sides of the same coin. Neither man could so much as form the intent to attack without the other knowing about it.
The girls would be dead before anybody could reach the cradle to stop him.
‘There must be another way.’ There was a note of defeat in the statement, a glimmer of acceptance.
‘I wouldn’t be here if there was,’ the assassin replied, still staring down at the baby he had come to kill. ‘You know that,’ he added, glancing over his shoulder. ‘You’re just not willing to accept the truth of it.’
The other man held out his hand, as if he expected the blade to be handed over, and for this night to be somehow forgotten. Put behind them like a foolish disagreement they’d been wise enough to settle like men. ‘They’re just babies …’
‘They are our death and the death of much more besides.’
‘But they’re innocents …’
The assassin shook his head. ‘Only because they lack the capacity yet to act on what they were bred to manifest. Once they are grown …’
‘Dammit … they’re your own flesh and blood!’
The assassin gripped the blade tighter and turned back to the cradle, steeling his resolve with a conscious act of will. It didn’t matter who they were. It’s what they were. That was the important thing.
It was the reason they had to die.
‘They are abominations, bred to cause chaos and strife.’
‘What we’ve seen in other realms may not come to pass.’
‘Of course it will,’ he said, growing impatient with an argument he considered long resolved. He reached into the cradle with his left hand to pull back the furs covering the children. The twin who was awake grabbed his finger. Her blue eyes smiling, she squeezed it gently. Behind him, his other half watched, too appalled to allow this, too afraid to stop it.
‘Help me, or leave,’ the assassin said, feeling the accusing eyes of his companion boring into his back. ‘Just don’t stand there feigning disgust, as if you had no part in bringing us to this pass.’
His nemesis wasn’t ready to give up just yet. ‘Perhaps what we’ve seen won’t happen here …’
‘I’m not prepared to take that risk.’
‘But you’re prepared to have the blood of innocents on your hands?’
‘Better the blood of two children than the blood of the thousands who don’t deserve to die.’ The assassin was still a little amazed he felt so calm. It was as if all the anguish, all the guilt, all the fear and remorse, all the normal human emotions a man should be battling at a time like this were a burden carried by someone else, leaving him free to act, unhindered by doubt.
If that wasn’t a sign of the rightness of this deed, he couldn’t think of anything else that might be.
He extracted his finger from the soft, determined grip of the baby girl, her skin so supple and warm, her gaze so trusting and serene it was heartbreaking.
But not heartbreaking enough to stay his hand. He raised the blade, transfixed by the guileless blue eyes staring up at him. And then he brought it down sharply, slicing through the swaddling and her fragile ribs into her tiny heart without remorse or regret.
He was quick and, he hoped, merciful, but the link between the sisters was quicker.
Before he could extract the blade from one tiny heart and plunge it into another, her twin sister jerked with pain and began to scream.
PART ONE
CHAPTER 1
‘If we had to take our clothes off, couldn’t we have done this indoors?’
Brydie glanced down around the circle of her sisters, cousins and friends, wondering who was brave enough to voice such
a sacrilegious thought aloud. It might have been Anwen. Since her betrothal to the queen’s only son, Torcán, last Imbolc, she’d become full of her own opinions, and with the security of her position of a soon-to-be princess, wasn’t afraid of sharing them. Not that Brydie disagreed with her distant cousin, shivering as she stepped out of her shift, leaving it in a puddle of pale linen on the grass behind her, but she would never have dared to say so.
Hugging her arms across her naked body against the chill, Brydie glanced up at the sun, barely visible through the trees. The sun lacked warmth, and what little there was the tall trees stole with their shadows. She shivered again and turned to her companions, noting with concern that the queen seemed to have only called the unmarried women of her court to this gathering in the sacred grove. Looking around at the dozen or so girls undressing around her, Brydie wondered what it meant. Was there a treaty to be sealed with a wedding?
More importantly, would the bride be ordered to the altar by her queen or permitted to volunteer?
Brydie chewed her bottom lip with concern. Queen Álmhath had been talking with quite a few border lords of late, even a couple from across Muir Éireann. The man visiting from Albion wasn’t anything to boast about, but he seemed a decent enough fellow, the few times Brydie was called to wait on his table these past few weeks. The other man, the Gaul … he was a pig. Brydie fervently hoped if this gathering had been called to select a treaty bride, it wasn’t because the queen of the Celts wanted something out of the Gauls.
‘Don’t slouch!’
Brydie straightened her shoulders, dropped her arms and lifted her chin, despite the bitter wind. One didn’t defy Lady Malvina unless one was feeling particularly in need of trouble.
The Druidess stopped beside Brydie but, fortunately, she fixed her attention on the girl beside her. Ethna was a year older than Brydie, but much thinner, her long brown hair tied back in a tight braid. At least Brydie had thought to let her own hair down as she undressed, figuring she might glean a little warmth from the thickness of it. Poor Ethna seemed to be feeling the cold a great deal more than the other girls, and a thin line of blood was trickling down her inner thigh. It was her mìosach time. Brydie felt sorry for Ethna and was relieved hers had finished a couple of weeks ago. Poor girl. Brydie might be teased constantly by the men of Álmhath’s court about her child-bearing hips, but at least she didn’t look as if she was going to snap in the first strong breeze like her companion did. The unfortunate girl was turning blue.