Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  “Are you saying I lost that book, too?”

  “You don’t have to be so defensive, Aerie. I know the amulet’s influence is making your temper harder to hold. Don’t worry. We’ll have it off you soon. Just hang in there, kiddo.”

  She huffed through her nose. “This isn’t like you.”

  “Just distracted. I hate to see you going through this.” He turned as if finished speaking, but paused halfway through his retreat. “Does it feel…odd in here? A weight to the air.”

  She shrugged and flipped on the bathroom light. More illumination. Scratching her head, she pretended to observe, while accidentally on purpose shaking her bangs down over her eyes. “Probably the stagnant air from upstairs. Really need to crack a window up there sometime.”

  “Why did you say you were up there?”

  “Um, to get something. My eskrima sticks. I wanted to work on my rolling patterns.”

  “Where are the sticks?”

  She looked down at her empty hands. “I, uh, saw a spider and changed my mind.”

  He nodded. “You hate spiders.”

  “Everyone does.”

  “Not everyone, Aerie. You know what I said time and time again. You can’t give in to petty fears.”

  “Not giving in to petty fear, Pop. Just giving in to wetting my pants.”

  He shrugged, looking slightly disgusted. “When you’re done, see me in my office. I’ve a job for you.”

  “You bet.” She darted into the bathroom and slammed the door, trying not to pant for air. Her heart slammed against her ribs, threatening to burst a hole in her ribcage. Did he know? Did he suspect? No, no, no, the Holding Plane couldn’t be sensed by anyone and there was a good chance he didn’t realize she was no longer possessed.

  But he knew something.

  Dammit. She thumped her fist softly against her mouth, pacing. All these revelations, no time to process them—instinct told her she needed to play it cool just this one damn time and she was acting like such an indecisive idiot.

  She flushed the toilet and made a big production of washing her hands, controlling her breathing, regaining her calm. Only when she felt settled did she crack open the door. The hall was empty. She slipped down to her room to grab her uniform jacket and cap. And then went back for the sunglasses, scolding herself.

  Pop was on the phone, his voice travelling down the hallway. Making an appointment with a wizard for a purchase from the vault. Another repo just waiting to happen, another skip in the record of time, a repeat in the making.

  This cycle had to stop. She had to stop it. She had to stop him.

  So what if she didn’t know the whole story? She knew enough to know that he was part of this awful saga. Maybe he had a good reason. Maybe there was a missing element, one that could turn her convictions upside down. Didn’t matter.

  What did matter was that she realized whose side she stood on, because it wasn’t his. Even in this moment of seeking justice, she felt as if she were the betrayer.

  She peeked in. Pop had his back to the door, looking at something on his computer. Softly, she tapped on the door. He gestured to the clipboard on the desk without looking at her. She picked it up, hesitating, mouth open, but she could find no words that would fit. Here was her life, her father.

  And she didn’t know him at all.

  Hooking the van’s keys from the rack near the door, she left without having to avoid making eye contact or speaking a single word.

  Which was probably a good thing. All she could think about was that second amulet, the empty one with the stranger’s name. Words would have been difficult to keep diplomatic. She felt so angry and betrayed at the moment that she was sure she could generate eyes full of flames all on her own.

  That could have been useful in keeping up the farce. But the whole idea of keeping up this farce one second longer than necessary scalded her to the bone. He had planned to steal another soul. He’d treated her like a second-class human her entire life because she’d thwarted his plan. Her self-confidence, her sense of family and self-worth, her simple heart—all had been battered by his disdainful treatment of her, his constant put-downs, his unending criticism.

  The irony of it was way too much. Everything he’d ever accused her mother of being—he may as well have been describing himself.

  And finding that book and the second amulet was what made everything fall into place.

  She gunned the van’s engine. A squeak from behind her made her look back into the bay. Mickey, whose tail still glowed with a faint blue cast, twitched his whiskers at her. The rat scurried up onto the dash, peering intently out of the windshield. Well, it had acted like a compass once. Maybe it still did.

  Time to take directions from someone who had no skin in the game. Peeling out of the driveway, she followed the rat’s directions and headed for the Interstate.

  18

  Aerie rang the bell once, banged on the door, then jabbed the bell a few more times.

  She paced a few quick steps to the edge of the porch and back, hands on her hips, pausing to peer through the window. Why isn’t he answering?

  When the door still didn’t open, she circled her fingers and popped the locks herself. Swinging the door wide, she yelled. “Finn? Finn! You home?”

  He skidded around the corner in his socks, looking very much like he’d been napping, especially with the way the side of his hair went straight up. “What are you doing here?”

  “I have to show you something. Get your dad.” She set off toward the basement door. “And hurry up. You need to open the room.”

  He caught up in the hallway. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “The one place I can safely pull this thing out. Hurry up!”

  She jogged down the steps, listening to Finn call for his dad to follow. Arms crossed tightly, hands pinned beneath her elbows, she continued pacing out her nervous energy until Finn came down. He finished speaking the unlock charm just as Jim appeared.

  “Son? What on Earth is going on? Oh. Aerie.” He pulled off his glasses. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

  The door swung open. Without waiting, she strode inside over to the massive work bench. “Both of you, in. Close the door.”

  Finn just stood in the doorway and gave her a flat stare.

  “I recognize that look in her eyes.” Jim’s voice was soft. “Do it, Finn.”

  The room sealed, she circled her fingers and unzipped the Holding Plane. Reaching in, she tugged out the blanket-wrapped bundle, setting it on the table with a thump.

  Jim drew an audible breath. She turned and crossed her arms, staring him dead in the eye. Daring him to say something. She nodded like a bobble-head, watching his expression. Knew it, knew it, knew something was up.

  “You remember,” he whispered.

  “I didn’t remember. I couldn’t remember. All my life, I was treated like a stupid, useless kid because I couldn’t remember.” She unzipped another Holding Plane and pulled out Eilis’ amulet, shaking it in an angry fist. “She did. She remembered because she made me forget.”

  Jim’s expression melted into confusion, his brows bunching up. “Forget what?”

  “Where I put it.”

  “Oh, no. I meant—”

  “You remembered you could trust us.” Finn eyed his father. “I want to know. What’s in that cloth?”

  “You tell me.” She picked up the bundle and tossed it to him.

  Finn carefully loosened the pink fleece, revealing the shiny amulet. When he flipped it over, his gaze stuck to the script on the back. His expression froze.

  “What is that?” Jim took the amulet from Finn’s unresisting fingers and read the name on the back.

  His expression was far from stony.

  Rage, indescribable rage flooded over his features, the bursting of a dam. His cry was ragged and heart-breaking, the sound of a man who just rediscovered he’d lost everything, the pain renewed and agonizingly fresh. He turned and grabbed the chair, flippin
g it against the wall with a crash.

  Aerie recognized that anger. It was something she harbored for a long, long time, a terrible energy that seethed and boiled under skin, every time she saw Jels, every time she remembered what he’d taken from her.

  She went to him and grasped his wrist, pulling him back from the steep, sharp edge she knew lay just beyond. “Jim. Look at me. Give me the amulet.”

  “No. No one is going to use this on anyone—”

  “No. They won’t. It’s empty, Jim. It’s empty.”

  “Now.” He turned to her, his eyes red, his lashes damp. “But for the last seventeen years, it may as well have been full. My life would have been the same.”

  “Dad.” Finn took his other wrist. “Please, Da’. Stop. Stop all this. We aren’t stuck in the rutting past. We can move forward. We can finally move forward.”

  “We all can,” Aerie said. “Just as soon as I get an answer.”

  Jim drew breath after ragged breath, the haunting look in his eyes softening just a bit. “What’s your question?”

  Without a word, Aerie lifted her hand, balancing Eilis’s amulet on her extended fingers. She lay a fingertip on the pulsating gem, giving it only a slight connection, just enough.

  There was no need to make a circle, pull on the amulet’s ley power, and speak a spell command. All she had to do was ask. “Show me.”

  Immediately, she received an answer. Eilis spoke into Aerie’s mind, her voice whispery and distant. “Find the picture.”

  A picture? This house was loaded with them. She ran out of the workroom and down the hall, back upstairs toward the living quarters of the home.

  “Where are you going?” Finn bounded after her, calling.

  She didn’t answer. She was too busy listening to the amulet. Find the picture. Find the picture. It was an incessant, echoey mantra.

  Into the family room it led her, walls lined with photos. She scanned each one.

  No, no. None of these. Father and son stuff, all of them.

  She went from room to room, scanning every group of photos she found. Finn and Jim followed in her wake.

  Nothing. Whatever Eilis wanted, it wasn’t any of these. Frustrated, she whirled around. “Finn, where’s that box, the one you opened when you separated us?”

  Finn exchanged glances with his father.

  “Come on,” she said. “I need it, now.”

  Jim nodded slowly, his gaze locked with hers. “Go on, Son. Do it.”

  “Okay.” He handed his father the square of pink fleece that he’d been holding. With a last glance at Aerie, Finn left the room, his footsteps distantly thumping back down to the basement.

  Jim stroked the material, folding it gently, and narrowed his eyes. “What are you looking for?”

  “Not me.” She shook her head distractedly, listening to the staticky voice coming from the amulet. It was egging her on, trying to get her to put it on. “Her.”

  “Her?” He took a step closer, gesturing at the amulet she held aloft. “You can…hear her?”

  “It’s all I’ve been doing. Christ. Finn! Hurry up!”

  “Did she ever mention—”

  Finn came back into the room, carrying a white box, its lid trimmed in black lace. The amulet sparked and jerked. She grabbed its chain before she could drop it, letting it dangle like a pendulum. The amulet strained toward the box, like it was magnetic.

  “Jim, I need to know something. And I only want the truth. How did you get this amulet in the first place?”

  His voice was weighted and raw, as if words hurt. “The truth?”

  She swallowed hard and nodded.

  “I found it in the grass at a playground, three blocks from here.”

  “That’s what you want me to believe?” She wrapped the chain around her finger, trying to keep it from slipping. “You just found it?”

  “Seventeen years ago, there was a rash of disappearances. We’d been aware of abductions of Natural folk for some time; authorities had no leads on the number or the identity of suspects. Some tried blaming the Elementals, their unknown aspects. There was no proof of any Elemental involvement whatsoever…but hysteria has a persuasive way about it.”

  “So, that’s why the Elem Bans, and the CER—”

  “Yep. The prejudice was always there, mind you. Society was just waiting for a solid reason, a modicum of justification. The laws passed easily in Pennsylvania. Too many small-town minds.”

  Jim walked slowly to the big picture window to look outside. “We were not swayed. And we weren’t worried. We live in a good community, good neighbors. We watched out for each other. My wife was a very strong mage. Confident, smart. Never thought it could happen to her…or our daughter.”

  He toyed with the piece of blanket and made a slow circuit around the room. “They went missing. From a playground. A crowded one. Witnesses didn’t get a good look at who took my child. Just a man walking away, leading her by the hand. They assumed it was me. Only later when the reports were being corroborated did it come out that I wasn’t there at the park with her. My wife was. And she was nowhere. No one saw her leave. One minute she was sitting on her usual bench and the next, she wasn’t. Someone found the amulet, its chain snagged on the bench, hidden in the grass, and gave it to me, assuming it was hers.”

  Aerie followed him with her eyes, breath held, heart beating so fast it felt like shallow tapping in her chest.

  “I’d never seen it before, seen anything like it.” Jim shook his head and ran his hand down his mouth, his beard. “But I knew it—on a level I can’t describe. I assumed it was magic and trusted my gut and took it home. That first night—the crying, the wails—they rendered me to my knees, holding my head, the agony of my heart. I didn’t dare let Finn see it. He was crying for his mum, his baby sister. If he would have heard that voice that came from the amulet, weeping and wailing and screaming—mo anam cara, mo leanbh...”

  Finn lifted his chin, lips clamped tight, a stricken look in his eyes, as his father’s words brought back that terrible memory.

  Aerie swayed on her feet. Jim caught her by the shoulders and guided her backwards to a chair.

  She sat numbly, unable to feel her legs. “So. You knew. It was her in there. Your wife. And your daughter—”

  “Stolen. By someone who appeared to be me, enough so that he fooled the witnesses.”

  “What…” She swallowed and tried again. “What was your daughter’s name?”

  “I think you already know.” He drew himself up, as if filling his lungs with air and his resolve with strength. “Go ahead, Finn. Open the box. Let her see.”

  Finn lifted the lid and held it out to her. Inside the box was a collection of mementos—letters, photos, bits of material, a jewelry box. In the lid was a family portrait.

  She lifted the amulet by the chain and held it toward the box of keepsakes. It was drawn to the items so sharply it pulled free from her grasp, settling itself gently in the box with a warm glow.

  Aerie leaned closer, holding her breath. A couple and their two children. At first, she thought the woman was herself. But, no. Didn’t have the chin, and this woman was older. Thinner, slender without being skinny.

  Jim, younger and clean shaven in this picture, more hair. A lot more hair. She laughed into her hand, looking up at him for comparison. Finn, himself but little, an impish five-year-old, both arms hugging a little blonde girl.

  Finn set the box on her lap and stepped back.

  She peered more closely at the photo. The little girl had a dimpled chin beneath her delighted laugh, the same chin mirrored in Jim’s image. Same as hers.

  Their names, etched below their images. Seamus. Fionn. Ciaran. Eilis.

  “Those names.” She couldn’t muster more than a harsh whisper. “The ones on the amulets.”

  Jim nodded, sadly. “Those are the traditional spellings. The English counterparts are Karen and Elizabeth.” His hand was a gentle touch on her shoulder. “She preferred Liz. Finn couldn�
�t say it, though. He called her Diz, I think, or Dizzy.”

  “Dez,” she whispered, and looked up at Finn. His face was a careful mask, his eyes trained on the box.

  “Yes, that’s it, Dez.” Jim smiled faintly, as if he’d remembered something sweet. “He had all of us calling her that. Funny what children do to a name. He couldn’t say his sister’s name, either. All he could get out was—”

  “Erin.” Her throat squeezed nearly all the way shut. “But he liked Aerie, better, because it sounded like fairy.”

  Jim patted her shoulder.

  She lifted her chin to look up at him, searchingly. “You knew—the minute I walked in here, you knew.”

  She stood, almost dropping the box. Finn leaned in the doorway, hugging his ribs, looking very guilty.

  “Both of you,” Aerie said. “You always knew.”

  A tear slipped down Jim’s cheek. “I would always know my own. Blood calls to blood, and you are the very picture of your fair, fair mother.”

  The world seemed to come to a shuddering stop, like a rusty carousal. That was what her entire life seemed to be at that particular moment, a silly ride in an endless circle, all fun and games and everything a blur until now, when the music ended, and the real world was suddenly, startlingly real and bare.

  She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Palms damp, her uniform stifling. She reached into the box, laying her finger on the amulet. “You were telling the truth.”

  “Aerie.” The voice was no longer a demonic wail, a bansidhe screech. It was a mellow woman’s voice, deep with emotion. “I couldn’t lie to my beloved daughter.”

  Aerie stood quietly for many long moments, her thoughts a slow-moving blur of old memories. She’d never dwelled upon the past; Pop’s dark comments had long ago convinced her the past was better left back there. What might she have held onto had he not worked so hard to poison her memories of her mother? There was nothing she remembered now, not with any clarity.

  Here, in this memento-filled box, lay every piece of her past that she’d been denied. The amulet remembered, and wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by the photos, the ticket stubs and baubles and pressed flowers. A spirit, trapped in the flow of maddening demonic ley, still remembered the pretty comforts of the past.