The cold winter air bites at every exposed part of me as I do some quick stretching, preparing for my daily run. Lately, it seems the only time I can think straight is when I’m running; letting my mind work out all the kinks and snags I encounter every day now. I can honestly say I’m more in awe of my father now than I ever was when he was here in front of me. How he managed to stay so cheerful with all the ‘little’ things that can come up from day to day in the running of this community of ours astounds me. It makes me wish he was here even more than ever so I can hug him and tell him how impressed I am, and how I’ll never be able to make things look as easy as he did. I stop myself before sighing again and set off for the path I take most mornings.
I’ve run my normal circuit twice and the sun is just starting to brighten the sky when I start to seriously consider breaking our law. When someone leaves our compound it’s understood that if you don’t return, no one will be coming to find you. It’s too big a risk to those left behind. We can’t chance being discovered by the Courts, or all of our planning will have been for nothing. So there was never a search party sent for my parents when they didn’t turn back up. But now, at this moment, I would give anything at all to leave the protective barriers of this city I have always called home and set out to locate them — dead or alive. I just need to know one way or the other so I can finally react instead of being in this constant holding pattern of almost-grief.
I could talk my cousin Sean into going with me — we could leave tonight. My uncle Seamus could take over my responsibilities to our people and I could just go. I know my uncle wants no part of being in charge of anyone other than his children. That’s how I ended up with the job to begin with. But I am sure I can make him see reason…or I hope I can. My younger brother’s face pops into my mind and I feel my plan disintegrate in an instant. It doesn’t matter that I want to leave or that the truth about my parents is out there in the world beyond these walls. I cannot leave my brother behind, and bringing him along would be way too dangerous. I can’t keep my promise to my father and follow my gut at the same time, so I am stuck once again.
Frustration bubbles up inside me and I push myself to run faster; imagining myself getting further and further away from the responsibilities that dog my every step. Someday, I promise myself, I will find out the truth. For the time being, I will have to placate myself by learning as much as I can from here. With that thought in mind, I realize I have a wealth of information literally at my fingertips back home. My Gran, who I’m named for (may she rest in peace) kept detailed journals, and no one knew more than she did about faeries. Those journals should still be in my family’s personal library on the third floor of our house.
Having finally made a decision, I find I can breathe a little easier. I will talk to Sean today and I’ll at least be able to tell myself that I’m doing something to help my parents. In a small way, it helps hold back the constant worry that I’m failing my family a little.
When I reach my house I see a tall, broad shouldered man with dark hair sitting on the front steps drinking from a steaming mug, and for just a moment I pretend it’s my father, waiting for me like he used to. I blink away the illusion and my uncle’s face comes into view. He pats the stone step next to him and smiles a very low key version of his normally thousand watt smile. I realize as I sit next to him that he looks tired, and I make a note to take him off guard duty for the next few days. He gives me a one-armed hug and kisses the top of my head. “Morning, lass. Already done with your run?”
“Yeah, thought I’d get my day started. Why are you up so early this morning?
He offers his mug to me and I wave him off as he says around a yawn, “Haven’t been to bed yet, actually. I took Sean’s shift on the border last night.”
I sit up a little straighter and tilt my head back so I can see his face. “Why did you need to cover Sean? You worked all day yesterday, Uncle Seamus. You need your rest.”
He looks a little shocked at my question. The blood drains from his face, making the freckles spattered across his cheeks stand out even more. He clears his throat before quietly saying, “Fianna, today is Hugh Kennedy’s execution. Sean is taking care of it for you, remember? Is this ringing any bells for you, lass?”
I feel his words like a physical blow. How could I have possibly forgotten that was today? Ice spreads through me as Hugh’s wolfish smile and cold blue eyes appear in my mind’s eye. I feel guilt form a solid mass in my gut, rise without meeting my uncle’s eyes and put a shaking hand on his shoulder. “Of course I didn’t forget. How could I? You get some sleep, please. I’m taking you off the schedule for today and tomorrow. No arguments. I’ll see you tonight for dinner.”
Without waiting for a response, I leave him sitting there and head to the back of the sprawling four story brownstone I have always called home. I can smell the strong coffee waiting for me before I even open the back door and inhale deeply; working to steady myself in case Eirnin is awake. I kick my shoes off once inside and leave my gloves on top of the hutch sitting by the back door. The house is quiet, which means my brother is either still asleep or has already left the house for the day. Where he goes when he silently skulks from the house and my presence I have no idea. I can only hope that the guards I’ve assigned to keep tabs on him and keep him safe are doing their jobs when he does.
I fill my favorite mug — one a younger cousin handmade for me with clumsy flowers and butterflies painted on it — with the steaming coffee, add a spoonful of sugar and take it to the scrubbed pine table my mother used for her prep work when cooking and baking. Since my parents left Eirnin and I eat our meals here, not bothering with the hulking dining table in the formal dining room that my mother served every meal at. I should eat something but since my uncle mentioned Hugh’s name, I am nauseous with self-disgust. It wasn’t that long ago that I’d met him, and not a day has gone by since that I haven’t wished I’d never given him even a moment of my time.
It was almost a year ago when Hugh entered our compound with news of the next market meeting and asked if he could stay for a while. Normally the people who show up with market news are nomads. They simply pass through before heading to the next human settlement with their information. But Hugh struck up a friendship of sorts with my cousin Sean and decided he was tired of always being on the move. He said he was ready to settle down for a little while, at least.
My parents weren’t the most trusting of people, to say the least. That’s why our people are still alive. So my father, especially, was suspicious of Hugh from the start. He told me on many occasions that he just didn’t ‘feel right’ about him being here. That suspicion turned to outright dislike when Hugh and I started dating. I tried to tell myself that my father wouldn’t have been happy with any man I chose, but it still nagged at me. My cousin Sean was really the only person in my family who had approved of our relationship. That made sense to me then, seeing as how he was the one who introduced us. Looking back, I wish I’d listened to my father and told Hugh to take a hike.
I normally pride myself on my decision making skills…really, I do. But Hugh was the first guy who paid any attention to me at all in an even slightly romantic way. I’m not proud of the things that happened while I was with him. He wasn’t the type of person I ever thought I’d find myself involved with. He was detached, or cold really, most of the time. For some reason, at first I thought there was more to him than he showed everyone else. I was wrong. He stood just over six feet with broad shoulders and muscles everywhere, with blond hair that was always just a little messy; just long enough to run your fingers through, but not so long that it needed to be pulled back, and arctic blue eyes that turned hard with no notice. Our ‘relationship’ didn’t last very long, really. Just long enough to ruin my life as I knew it.
By the time I discovered the truth of the person he really was, it was too late. My parents had left the city, following information he’d given them, and I was struggling to fill my father’s shoes. We were
alone one evening, my brother already shut inside his room for the night, and Hugh had come over for dinner as was his new habit. I was cleaning the dishes and straightening the kitchen while he sat and watched. I felt his gaze on my body as I stretched to put glasses and plates where they belonged. I could also feel the agitation rolling off of him in waves. His treatment of me since my parents’ departure had been abrasive to a new extreme. I couldn’t pinpoint what I had done to spark his temper into overdrive this time, but I felt the fight brewing while I went about my new nightly routine.
I finished wiping down the counter next to the sink and folded the towel into a tiny square for something to do with my hands. Trying for normalcy I turned around, leaned back against the counter and asked, “Did you enjoy dinner?”
His mouth twisted, and for a moment he looked like he’d tasted something sour before he said, “Oh sure. It was grand. I love choking down dried out, flavorless-”
My own temper flared to life even though I knew I’d pay for it later, and I cut him off. “I didn’t hear you complaining when you wolfed it down! If you have such a problem with my cooking, you can go elsewhere for your meals! I am beyond tired of your attitude! I don’t understand why you keep coming to see me if you’re so unhappy with every little thing I do!” This was so typical of him, I thought to myself. He never has a kind word for anyone. He only ever wants to tear people down and make them feel small. If this constant mental warfare is what it means to be ‘with’ someone, I want no part of it anymore.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Fianna. This was never about you. You were just a means to an end; some entertainment in this awful place. Not good entertainment, either, by the way. I’m here for him!” he bellowed at me, and gestured with his hand towards my brother’s room. He blinked looking shocked at himself for revealing that bit of information and I felt everything inside me go cold.
I went completely still for a moment while fear and anger warred with duty. I thought about the sacrifices I had made to try and keep my brother safe and my father’s final words to me rang in my ears: “Protect your brother. They will come for him.” Oh, Dad, I thought, you were right as always, but they were already here when you left us. Without conscious thought, I found myself holding my iron knife against Hugh’s throat and yelling for the guard out back a moment later. Hugh didn’t look very intimidated by my five feet-two inch female frame, and even with the iron dagger at his carotid, his eyes still mocked me. Though my hand did not shake as I pressed a little to show him I meant business. His jaw tightened and I braced myself for the blow to come, but when the back door opened and my uncle and a guard came in with guns out, I backed up when my uncle told me to.
In the aftermath we learned that Hugh had lured my parents into a trap set for them by persons he wouldn’t reveal. His betrayal was twofold, and I was bound by our law to see him exiled or executed. Due to the nature of his treachery, Seamus and I decided that execution was the safest route for our people. There was no telling the damage he would do if we let him leave. Sean felt responsible since he pushed for me to give Hugh a chance to begin with, so to try and make up for that, he offered to handle the actual execution for me. I accepted with appreciation. I had no desire to ever set eyes on Hugh Kennedy ever again.
As time passed, the talk within the city died down and people stopped gaping at me and making sympathetic faces when they saw me out. They didn’t know all the details, and I wasn’t sharing. I found it was easy to pretend none of it had ever happened when I kept my interaction with all people who weren’t my family to a minimum. No one knew the guilt I carried around with me all the time. I knew that if I hadn’t made us vulnerable to Hugh’s game, my parents never would have given anything he said much thought. They would still be here where they belonged. My brother would talk to me again, I’m sure, and maybe even laugh and smile as much as he used to.
I stop my thoughts in their path, knowing I am heading towards a breakdown I don’t have time for. My mother always told me to stay strong and not show any weakness or fear. That meant no crying. “Dolans don’t cry,” she told me a thousand times. The last time I cried was nine years ago when my Gran died, and I’m not going to break now. Instead I focus on what I can do to make things better. I remember then that I had planned on searching for Gran’s journals before Uncle Seamus reminded me of Hugh’s execution today. Pulling myself out of my memories, I rinse my coffee cup, fill a thermos with the remainder of the pot and make the trek up two flights of stairs to the third floor, where the library takes up one whole side of the house. Call me lazy if you like, but who wants to gingerly carry a full cup of coffee up two flights of stairs? Not me. I take them two at a time with the thermos lid tightly closed; liquid sloshing happily against the sides.
Just pulling the pocket doors open and inhaling the smell of all the books held inside makes me happier than I’ve been in days. This is my favorite room in the house, and possibly my favorite place to be in the whole world. When I was younger I spent entire days hidden away in the corner, curled up on the sofa with my favorite books. I know all too well the luxury I’d been afforded by being born a Dolan. If I was born to someone living in one of the Fae camps, I would only be allowed to read a handful of books They deemed acceptable for humans. I wouldn’t have practically memorized Little Women from reading it so many times before I was ten. I wouldn’t have completed the works of the incomparable Jane Austen, traveled to Hogwarts with Harry Potter or devoured the amazing retellings of fairy tales by Marissa Meyer. Books are my sanctuary from the world, and I have always embraced them with my whole heart.
This house is full of memories of both my parents and grandparents, but it’s here in the library where I can almost feel my grandmother standing beside me, smell her scent of roses and hear her laugh at me when I pick up a book I’ve read at least five times to read once more. It’s here that I can still feel her essence all around me. Looking around, I can hear my grandmother’s voice telling me about how she and Granddad made this room for future generations, so we wouldn’t lose the knowledge of the human race. My grandparents customized this room when they first came to the city, and then they went to the old public library and cleared as many shelves in as many sections as they could. Gran said it took them the better part of a month to get it set up the way she wanted it, and Granddad never complained once.
I head to the back of the vast room, set the thermos down on a coffee table sitting in front of the battered old sofa I convinced my father to drag in here from the attic when I was six, and start opening the heavy drapes that adorn the numerous windows in the room. Bright winter sunlight floods the room and I can see the dust motes flying through the air. There are wooden bookcases built into the walls and bolted to the floor, making it look like an old public library. I take it all in and find a sense of calm taking over. All of our family papers, my grandmother’s old photo albums, and memory books are all stored in the closet in the corner of the room. That’s where I plan to start my search.
Chapter 3—Fi
February 2102
I back out of my bedroom into the dark hallway and gently pull my door closed behind me. Just because I can’t sleep doesn’t mean my brother has to be awake, too. I turn towards the kitchen and bump into a very tall someone, almost falling over in the process. Warm hands grasp my shoulders before I hit the ground and bring me upright again.
“Fi?” comes from out of the darkness.
“Eir? Did I wake you? I tried to be quiet,” I respond, feeling my way towards the kitchen and coffee.
“No, you didn’t. I just woke up early,” I hear from right behind me. Reaching the kitchen, I flip the light switch on and blink in the sudden brightness. I hear Eirnin muttering behind me, “Coffee, coffee, coffee, please,” and I laugh at his enthusiasm for caffeine. I head for the coffee maker to get the brew started and turn back to him as he sits at the table.
“How would you like to take a run with me? By the time we get back, coffee should be ready,”
I ask, as I pull out the homemade corn muffins our Aunt Ruth sent over the previous night for us. I watch my brother as he stuffs the top of a corn muffin into his mouth whole and seems to swallow it without chewing, and can’t hold in my laughter.
He looks injured for a moment. “Are you laughing at me, sister dear? And when I was just about to say I’ll go for a run with you despite the uh…shall we say, aggressive pace you set.”
I shake my head at his antics. “How you can’t keep up with me, I’ll never know. You’re over a foot taller than I am!”
He laughs and polishes off the rest of his muffin; picking up another one from the plate on the table and waving me towards the back door. “I’ll join you and maybe we can spare the poor bastard who’s assigned to tail your every move the workout he most likely doesn’t need. Who’s my shadow today, by the way?” I stiffen at the bitterness in his voice, hating that I am making him so unhappy by trying to keep him safe.
I toss him his gloves while digging my own out of the drawer and try to avoid setting off his temper. He definitely doesn’t need to know that I never bring a guard with me on my morning run. “Here—don’t want you to catch cold. Do you want to grab a sweater or anything?” He’s got a black, long sleeved thermal shirt on with a hunter green tee shirt layered on top, but it can be bitterly cold before the sun makes an appearance this time of year.
“I’m sure you’ll keep my blood pumping hard enough that I’ll be sweating in no time. Just a hat for me, I think.” He sighs dramatically and gives me a gentle shove towards the back door. “Quit worrying. You’re going to give yourself an ulcer, I swear! Let’s get out in the freezing cold and run until our lungs collapse, shall we?”
Resistance Page 3