The Undivided

by Jennifer Fallon; Jennifer Fallon

  What must it be like, Darragh wondered wearily, to live in a world with no magic and the politics that went with preserving it?

  Rónán might know. Some said he’d been thrown into a reality where his power meant nothing. What would it be like, to be free of the burden?

  When we find him, will he want the burden of his magical powers thrust upon him?

  Darragh didn’t allow the dread fear of not finding his brother take root in his mind. They would find Rónán.

  They had to find Rónán.

  He glanced at Colmán — who looked paler than a worm found under a freshly turned rock — trying to imagine him doing what Amergin had done.

  And then Darragh became aware of the heavy air of silent anticipation focussed on him. He forced himself to smile even wider, looking around the hall at the sea of expectant faces. The whole court was holding its breath, waiting for him to stumble.

  He was still holding Brydie’s hand. With a bow, he indicated Rónán’s vacant seat. ‘The lord of the Mounds is right, my lady. We’ll not be needing my brother’s seat tonight. Why don’t you sit here?’

  One immediate benefit of Darragh’s decision to put Brydie in his brother’s vacant seat was that Colmán was rendered speechless, and the evening progressed very nicely without the constant interruption of the Vate’s appallingly bad verse, chronicling the details of their meal. Colmán was, in fact, quite apoplectic, but it was hours before he would be able to get Darragh alone and inform him of his displeasure. In the meantime, Darragh enjoyed a pleasant meal with the delightful Brydie by his side, while the guests muttered ominously about him, and Álmhath, Torcán and Marcroy barely contained their glee.

  Neither could Darragh, but for entirely different reasons.

  The Vate finally cornered Darragh in the hall outside his room as he was heading for bed. Darragh let him rant for a few minutes, knowing the old man would feel better for it, and that while he was ranting, he wasn’t likely to throw in another verse. After the third time Colmán called him a mindless fool with his brains in his genitals — so angry he didn’t even attempt to make the insult a rhyme — Darragh decided he’d heard enough.

  ‘Stop!’ he commanded, putting his hand over Colmán’s mouth — an unpleasant sensation, given how much grease the old man used to fork his beard. ‘I get it. You’re angry with me.’

  He took his hand away. Colmán looked ready to burst something. ‘Leath tiarna, have you any idea what you’ve done?’

  ‘I know exactly what I’ve done, Vate, and one day you’ll be singing about it. In the meantime, can you get me some Brionglóid Gorm?’

  Colmán was instantly suspicious. ‘What do you need that for?’

  Darragh grinned. ‘In case she snores.’

  ‘Leath tiarna!’ the Vate gasped in horror. ‘You can’t mean you’re …?’ He stopped and glanced around to be certain they were alone. ‘Are you insane? You’re planning to render the Celtic queen’s court maiden unconscious in order to have your way with her?’

  ‘Quite the opposite, Colmán,’ Darragh said, lowering his voice. Although he was certain there was nobody listening, there were Daoine sídhe in Sí an Bhrú tonight. One couldn’t be too careful. ‘I want to render the Celtic queen’s court maiden unconscious to stop her having her way with me.’

  The old man took a deep breath. ‘Darragh,’ he said, one of the rare times Colmán had ever addressed him by name. ‘I don’t know what game you think you have going here, but I must warn you, it will not work.’ He threw his hands up in despair. ‘By Danú, where is Ciarán when I need him?’

  ‘Ciarán would tell you not to worry,’ Darragh assured the Vate, hoping the old man’s concern wouldn’t prompt him to go looking for the missing warrior.

  Fortunately, Colmán was too distressed to even wonder where Ciarán was. ‘You have weakened your position tonight,’ Colmán warned, ‘all for the sake of a smile from a pretty girl. To compound the error by even allowing that sly little vixen into your bed, let alone thinking you can keep the upper hand by drugging her …’ He threw his hands up again helplessly, his voice trailing off as if he didn’t have the words to explain how he felt, a cruel situation for a man who lived by his ability to find words for every occasion.

  Darragh sighed to cover his frustration. Amergin would not need to have this explained to him. ‘Lord Vate, what did Amergin tell you about me?’

  The old man looked away, unable to meet Darragh’s eye. ‘I don’t know what you mean …’

  ‘You were Amergin’s apprentice for a decade before he died, Colmán. You discussed my progress with him often. Amergin told me that himself.’

  The Vate shrugged, unable to deny it.

  ‘And didn’t he tell you I’m smarter than I look?’ Darragh knew that to be case, because Amergin had joked about it afterward.

  ‘Even so, Leath tiarna …’

  ‘All I’m asking is that you give me the benefit of the doubt, Colmán,’ Darragh begged, wishing this man would take him seriously, as Ciarán did. ‘Trust me. Trust that I knew exactly what I was doing when I surrendered my brother’s seat to Lady Brydie tonight.’

  Colmán frowned, his eyes filled with doubt.

  ‘And if that isn’t enough for you, trust that Ciarán would not have left me here to deal with Álmhath and Marcroy alone, if he didn’t believe I knew what I was doing.’

  It was hard for Colmán to argue with that. He shook his head, still not convinced, but not able, in his confusion, to think of an argument to counter Darragh’s logic. ‘Leath tiarna, it is arrogant in the extreme to think you alone — a mere boy — can outwit the Daoine sídhe, the Celtic queen and even those among our own order who believe that without the other half of the Undivided, you have no right to sit the Twin Throne. Regardless of what Ciarán may have to say on the matter, you gave Álmhath a gift tonight, and all you seem capable of thinking about is your own carnal pleasure.’

  Darragh smiled, hoping to reassure the old man, but suspecting his smile would only reinforce the Vate’s suspicion that he was a young, politically naïve — and dangerously lustful — fool. ‘I can tell you this much, Vate,’ he said. ‘If you trust me, all will be well. And of one other thing I can assure you — I won’t be alone.’

  CHAPTER 17

  When Ren gave his statement to the Gardaí several hours later he was hard-pressed to remember the details of the accident. By then it was night. The ambulance had taken Hayley away in a wail of urgent sirens, the Gardaí cars with their flashing blue lights had dwindled to a lone patrol car parked in the circular driveway outside the house, and the paparazzi had thronged to the hospital. A gentle rain pattered softly onto the street, washing away the last traces of Hayley’s blood.

  All Ren could remember was the sound of Murray’s car hitting Hayley. And her scream — cut short by the crack her head made when it smacked onto the roadway, several metres from where the BMW had skidded to a stop.

  ‘And you’re sure that’s all you can remember, Ren?’ the officer asked, as she closed her notepad.

  Ren nodded mutely, not sure what else to say. He was numb — lacking the energy for even the simplest exchange. Across the hospital waiting room a muted wall-mounted TV was previewing the upcoming football season while beneath it, a frazzled mother tried to keep several tired kids, all in their pyjamas, under control.

  ‘It all happened so fast,’ he finally said, because the officer was looking at him so expectantly.

  They were sitting in a tucked-away corner of the Emergency Department. They had been brought here to make their statements against a background of whimpering children, belligerent drunks and weary mothers, probably wishing their children’s illness were a little more serious so they’d get bumped up the triage list and not have to wait so long in this depressing place.

  Ren glanced at Trása sitting beside him. She nodded and squeezed his hand comfortingly.

  ‘What about you, Trása?’ she asked. ‘Can you remember anything else?’
>
  Trása’s eyes were red from weeping. Hayley’s accident seemed to have wounded her more than it affected Hayley’s own cousin, Ren.

  Trása shook her head. ‘It’s like Ro … Ren said. It happened so fast. It was very crazy out there. All those excited people. All those bright flashing lights.’

  The Gardaí officer nodded in agreement. ‘I can imagine,’ she said. ‘Must be awful, living in a fishbowl.’ She smiled sympathetically. ‘I’ll get your statements typed up and bring them over to the house for you to sign tomorrow. Normally, I’d ask you to come into the station to sign them, but in light of your … special circumstances, it’s probably better if I bring them to you.’ She glanced over her shoulder toward the door. Hospital security were keeping the wolves at bay, so for the time being at least, there were no paparazzi waiting outside.

  ‘What special circumstances?’ Trása asked, looking puzzled.

  ‘She means not everyone has a rabid mob of hyenas camped outside their front gate waiting to get a saleable shot of the freak show,’ Ren told her bitterly, and then he turned to the officer. ‘Thanks, sergeant, we’d appreciate that.’

  ‘What will happen to the man driving the car?’ Trása asked.

  ‘Not up to me.’ The officer climbed to her feet and straightened her jacket. ‘I’m guessing not much, though,’ she added, pocketing the notebook beside the pen. ‘Dr Symes wasn’t drunk, he has a clean driving history and the paparazzi had a lot to do with it.’ She looked down at Ren sympathetically. ‘Accidents happen, Ren. Don’t go blaming yourself over this. It’s not your fault.’

  ‘I’m not,’ he assured her. ‘Symes floored it.’ He’d been adamant about that in his statement. Of the few things he did remember, the sound of Murray Symes revving the engine of his BMW to scare the paparazzi away was one of the things that stuck in his mind. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been planning to hit one of the photographers.’

  ‘Well, unfortunately, he hit your cousin instead,’ the officer said. ‘And I’m quite sure he wasn’t planning to do that. So be careful making accusations, Ren, unless you are certain you can back them up.’

  ‘He still ought to pay,’ Trása insisted, letting Ren’s hand go to wipe her eyes with a scrunched up tissue that was long past its useful life. ‘An innocent soul should not be snuffed out so carelessly without some recompense to the goddess.’

  ‘She’s not dead, Trása,’ the officer repeated, a little impatiently. Trása seemed to be writing off Hayley too easily. ‘Are you kids going to be okay?’ she asked, picking up her car keys from the vinyl waiting-room seat. ‘It’s been a fairly harrowing day for you. Did you want me to call someone?’

  Ren shook his head. ‘We’ll go back upstairs to the ICU in a bit. My mother’s up there with Hayley’s parents.’

  ‘Okay then,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll walk you out,’ Ren offered. ‘I could do with some fresh air.’

  The woman thanked him for the offer, said goodbye to Trása, and then walked with Ren toward the Emergency Department entrance. She checked once again if he’d be okay, and then said goodbye. Ren waited as she ran across the driveway in the drizzling rain, and then climbed into her patrol car which was parked in one of the reserved emergency places at the front of the hospital. As she drove away, Ren pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and headed in the opposite direction, toward the car park. There were a few photographers gathered on the other side of the road, but it was wet and they were sitting in their cars, not paying attention to the lone figure heading away from them. They were waiting for Kiva.

  ‘Is the Gardaí officer gone?’

  Ren turned. Trása had followed him. The wretched Leipreachán was tucked under her arm. ‘Yeah,’ he said.

  ‘What will happen now?’

  ‘We wait,’ Ren said, glancing up at the multi-storey building where Hayley was fighting for her life. The hospital car park was almost deserted. He glanced at his watch. It was past midnight. ‘You don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be okay, Trása.’

  ‘I’m so sorry about Hayley, Ren.’

  He adjusted his hood, so he wouldn’t have to face her. ‘She’ll be okay, Trása. This is the best hospital in the country, she’s under the best doctors, getting the best care.’ He thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘Kiva won’t skimp on making sure Hayley gets whatever she needs. The Boyles are family.’

  Trása seemed truly bewildered. ‘But surely Hayley’s injuries are so bad nothing can be done for her now, except make her comfortable until she dies?’

  Ren stopped and turned to look at her. ‘You give up on people pretty easily, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m not giving up, Ren,’ Trása said, as if she was afraid she’d made him angry. ‘I’m just being realistic. There was so much blood. And Hayley’s head was badly injured. The men driving the ambulance said so. You have no magical healing in this world to fix her.’

  ‘Yeah, well a few million bucks’ worth of hi-tech medical equipment and a hospital full of specialists ought to have the same effect as magic. In this world.’ Ren turned and continued to walk through the misty rain, wondering why Trása would comment on “this world”. As if there was another one out there somewhere.

  Trása put her hand on his shoulder. ‘The officer was right, Ren. It’s not your fault.’

  ‘Of course it’s not my fault,’ he said, shaking her hand off. ‘Hayley steps in front of speeding fucking cars trying to get across the road to me all the time. Even when I’m not there.’ Ren stopped and closed his eyes for a moment.

  ‘Ren, don’t blame yourself.’

  ‘Then who should I blame?’

  ‘The man driving the car?’ Trása suggested. ‘You said it yourself … he was trying to hit someone. He wielded the weapon. He was aiming for those men who were blocking his path. He is the one who hit her. He is the one who should pay. He is the one we will make pay.’

  The strident tone of her declaration made Ren open his eyes and stare at her in alarm. ‘Settle down there, Rambo.’

  She wasn’t smiling. ‘I don’t know what that means, Ren. I just know that where I come from, such an act would not go unpunished.’

  ‘And where is that exactly?’

  She smiled. ‘North.’

  Red couldn’t help but smile, too. He didn’t feel like it, but there was something about Trása, even with her swollen, tear stained eyes, that was hard to resist.

  ‘North, huh?’

  ‘It’s a very nice place,’ she said. ‘You should visit it sometime.’

  Her vagueness irritated him a little, but then he frowned, as another thought occurred to him.

  ‘Hey … shouldn’t you be getting home? It’s past midnight. Jack’ll be worried about you.’

  ‘He knows where I am,’ she said. Then she leant across, quite unexpectedly, and kissed him on the lips.

  Ren said nothing. His brain seized up like a badly maintained engine, gluing his tongue to the roof of his suddenly dry mouth. She tasted of raindrops and promises.

  His silence seemed to confuse Trása. ‘What’s the matter? Did I do something wrong?’

  ‘Um … no … of course not,’ Ren managed finally. ‘I was just wondering … you know … why you did that?’

  ‘I like you,’ she said, as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world. ‘Where I come from, we comfort the people we like when they’re in pain.’

  He smiled wistfully. ‘Makes me kinda wish I’d broken my leg.’

  Trása cocked her head sideways. ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he sighed. ‘I’m just not used to … well, girls I’ve known for less than a day kissing me out of the blue.’

  She seemed a little miffed at his reaction. ‘Look, if it upsets you so much that I kissed you, I’m sorry. I’ll know better than to try to comfort you next time. I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Please, Trása … I’m sorry.’

  Trása turned to stare at him, frowning. ‘For what?’


  ‘For snapping at you. I’m not …’ He let the sentence hang, uncertain how to explain himself. He had never felt so lost. Or so alone. Everyone was upstairs in the ICU, worried sick about Hayley. As they should be. It’s where I should be. Ren reached out and grabbed Trása’s arm.

  She debated his apology for a moment in silence, her dark almond eyes giving away nothing, making him wait a few moments longer, before asking, ‘Can I hang out here with you?’

  He shrugged. ‘If you want.’

  Trása reached up to gently touch his face. ‘I know someone just like you,’ she said softly. ‘When he gets upset, he does the same thing.’

  ‘What thing?’ he asked, with no clue who she might be referring to. A boyfriend, perhaps? Her hand was unnaturally warm against his skin.

  ‘He disappears outside, saying he wants to be alone.’

  ‘Do you follow him and randomly kiss him too?’ Ren asked. He wished he hadn’t said it, almost as soon as the words were out, but her hand was burning his cheek where it touched and he really wasn’t thinking straight.

  But Trása didn’t seem offended. She stepped a little closer to him, rose up on her toes and kissed him again, squashing her creepy Leipreachán doll between them. Ren slipped his arms around her, pulling her closer. As he tightened the embrace, part of him thought the damned toy had grunted in pain.

  CHAPTER 18

  Brydie came to Darragh’s room later that night. She let herself in, padded barefoot to the end of the bed where she stood and waited for him to notice her. He turned over at the sound of the door closing and waved his hand to magically light the oil lamp beside the bed. He silently studied his guest for a time.

  Ciarán had taught him that trick. When you weren’t sure of the right thing to say, it looked wiser to say nothing at all.