“Reed,” Zephyr says from behind him. He must have come back in through the skylight in the ceiling. “Time to go,” he orders with authority, while his light brown wings beat steadily just beyond the railing of my balcony room.
Reed growls again. Click, Brennus’ fangs engage as he waits to see what Reed and Zephyr will do next.
“REED!” Zephyr barks. I flinch inside at the sound, because Zee is scary when he wants to be.
Reed pulls himself together then, enough to whisper to me, “I will be back. I promise, Evie.” He launches into the air and Zephyr follows directly behind him, making sure that Reed doesn’t change his mind and turn back to us again.
The moment Reed is gone, I inhale a deep breath, and then instantly pay for it as shooting pain in my abdomen and shoulder remind me that my heart is not the only thing bleeding.
“Ah, Genevieve, I’m sorry, lass, truly,” Brennus whispers against my hair, pulling me to him tighter. “Dis should never have happened. I missed all da signs. I was arrogant and toughtless. Nuting has attacked me in ages. I didna take da proper precautions against da Werree,” he admits, stroking my hair. He settles me against his cool chest, lying back on the pillows of my bed. “If it were na for ye sending Faolan ta me…” he starts to say, but stops.
His cool chest feels good against my throbbing shoulder, so I press closer to him. “I think you need some personal guards from now on, Brenn. You can definitely have Eion, but I want Faolan back,” I whisper. “How’s Lachlan?” I ask softly, remembering Lachlan’s chest filled with inky, black arrows.
“Lachlan is gone…we couldna save him,” Brennus replies, squeezing me tighter.
“What!” I whisper, feeling my throat grow so tight that I am fighting for air again.
My reaction is shocking me. Somehow, Lachlan had managed to become like a friend to me, even as he was there to make sure that I behaved myself. Feelings that I have been denying that I have for them rise up in me. Rage and pain overwhelm me at once, as I murmur, “I will kill Casimir, I promise you. We’ll have revenge for Lachlan.” Tears stain my cheeks again, wetting Brennus’ jacket.
“Mo chroí, ye are like a dream. I canna believe ye exist,” he breathes against my hair, petting my back soothingly as he tries to calm me.
“Brenn,” Finn says in a gentle tone, poised on the platform ahead of us. “Ye need ta feed so dat ye can heal. I will stay wi’ Genevieve while ye see to it. None of da other fellas will come in here. Declan and Molly are guarding da door. ’Tis okay now.”
“I’m na leaving her ‘til she heals,” Brennus replies and I still, realizing for the first time that he is just as broken as I am. I reach up under his suit coat, feeling the cold stickiness of his blood seeping through his shirt.
“Brenn, she just blew away a dozen or more Werree, like dey were paper dolls. Da last ting we should be worried about is protecting Genevieve. Anyway, she canna heal until ye do, remember?” Finn asks him, with a concerned expression in his pale green eyes. “She is starting ta look as pale as ye. Ye have ta do someting before she gets worse.”
“Den bring a wan here. I’m na leaving her alone,” Brennus says, assessing my face. “Hurry.”
“I will,” Finn agrees, watching me rest my cheek against Brennus as I cry. He signals to Declan at the door before turning back to me, saying, “’Twill be better soon, Genevieve. Da pain will be less once Brennus feeds.”
“No, it won’t. They killed Lachlan,” I reply in a whisper, seeing the surprise in Finn’s eyes that my tears are for my friend. Turning my head into Brennus’ chest, I try to choke back a sob. I rub my face against Brennus’ jacket, wiping my tears and then I whisper, “From now on, we invoke the ‘Silver Rule:’ Kill all of them before they kill all of you.”
“Nuting would please me better, mo chroí,” Brennus breathes against my hair.
“We have to find Casimir’s hole,” I say, feeling tired because I keep losing blood.
“He will seek ye out soon,” Finn informs me, “he did na succeed, so he will have ta try again.”
I close my eyes, seeing Casimir’s face in my mind and feeling lethargic and muddled. I feel set adrift, floating away from the safety of my home and there is nothing to hold on to anymore.
Like an answer to a prayer, Brennus whispers, “Hold on to me. I’m here.” He traces his finger over my cheek and then he holds me as the pain in my shoulder and abdomen oscillate between severe and dull.
“Who is this, lover?” A feminine voice cuts the air in accusation from the stairway of my bedroom.
Opening my eyes a little, I try to raise my head, but my vision swims, so I put it back down limply.
“Why does she have her hands on you? Doesn’t she know that you’re mine?” The scantily clad, lithe woman asks as she walks to the bed.
His hand reaches up to touch her cheek and she loses her snarling demeanor. It is replaced by a dopey, little smirk.
“Missed you…lover,” she breathes. As she leans forward to kiss his mouth, her dark hair falls on me as I rest against his chest. “You haven’t made love to me since this morning. Where have you been hiding?”
This must be hell, I think dizzily as Brennus sinks his fangs into the girl at his side.
She exhales in ecstasy and it only takes a matter of minutes before she slips from his arms to the floor, unmoving.
Brennus snuggles me closer, saying, “’Twill be all right now, Genevieve. Rest, mo shíorghrá.” My fuzzy brain holds on to his last words because I know what they mean now. He just said, “Rest, my eternal love” and I can do nothing but obey.
CHAPTER 19
Nineteen
I awake in Brennus’ room, but it’s impossible to tell by the light from the window what time it is, since it’s mostly gray here. My fingers skim over a blanket, while I feel a cold body radiating icy air next to me. Vague memories of what had happened come to me. I give a small gasp, starting to sit up, when Molly crosses her feet in front of her on top of the blankets.
Smiling into my eyes, Molly puts down her fashion magazine. “How do you feel? Better or worse than the time we got the peach schnapps?” she asks me, studying my face and looking concerned.
“Umm…not sure. Give me a second,” I say, trying to move again and feeling stiff. My shoulder definitely still hurts, but not nearly as bad as before. My stomach is better, too, but it still feels tight and sore. “Better,” I reply, pushing myself up to a sitting position.
“Better or worse than sledding with cafeteria trays?” she asks.
“Worse,” I decide, grimacing a little and remembering our escapades in high school.
“Worse than the trays?” she asks. “That blows, ‘cuz those trays super sucked. Remember how mine broke in half? I think I still have a piece of one in my shin,” she says, pulling her leg up and yanking down her kneesock so I can check it out. She is dressed in a sexy, punk outfit consisting of a short, pleated skirt and tight-fitting top with kneesocks and Doc Martins.
Her skin looks flawless now, like she never skinned her knees in her life. “That’s all in your head, Molls,” I reply, not seeing anything remotely wrong with her pale skin. “So, where is everyone?” I ask, because it sounds really quiet, like a morgue.
“Eaves, the whole place is on total lock-down now. It’s worse than airport security around here. I swear, I feel like a terrorist every time I try to get near you. Finn has gone totally parental on me. I can’t leave without his permission, and then I have to have five or six fellas go with me everywhere I go. It’s so lame,” she complains, crossing her arms with a pouty face.
“Welcome to my world,” I mutter.
“I know, right?” she says, giving me the there-you-go gesture. “It’s like we’re grounded or something. I can so have more fun being alive,” she whines and I try not to smile. “Oh! You totally missed it! I had to save it for you because it’s just too funny! Brennus nearly went postal when he saw it. I think I like your new friends, Eaves! Check this out!”
Molly bounces off my bed and goes to the bedroom door. She cracks it to see if anyone is coming. She closes the door quietly again and turns to my closet door where she pulls out a gilded frame from it. When she turns the frame around, I recognize it as the one that held my ‘goddess portrait.’
Someone had cut the portrait out of it and replaced it with the same smiley face poster that we left in the Delt composite. The smiley face is flipping us off, while the caption reads: ‘HAVE A NICE DAY.’ Below the caption, I recognize Buns’s handwriting that reads in bold, red lipstick: We Love You, Sweetie. See You Soon.
Tears brighten my eyes as a laugh escapes me. “It’s perfect,” I murmur. “That’s Buns and Brownie. They have the best sense of humor.”
“Well, they’re certainly little kleptomaniacs because they stole all of your pictures in your archive. It was sabotage,” she smirks, enjoying the chaos.
“Yeah, that sounds just like them,” I say, not able to hide the smile on my face. “How long have I been sleeping?” I comb my fingers through my hair to get the tangles out. I glance again at the window; it’s gray and raining.
“I’m not sure—awhile—nearly a day. You just missed Brennus. He was here for most of the time with you, but he had to deal with all the issues,” she says. “You know, I think it’s kind of hard to be an evil emperor. Everyone wants his attention. He had to change all the plans now. We were all set to have this huge surprise birthday party for you, and now everyone is packing up their gear for the move instead. So, I might as well give you your present now.” Molly says, tossing a small, wrapped gift onto my lap. I let it sit there as I gaze at it dumbly.
“What?” I ask.
“Happy Birthday, Eaves,” Molly grins, watching me as she hugs one of the tall posts at the foot of my bed.
“We’re leaving?” I ask, latching onto the most important information she imparted.
Molly nods, “Yeah, soon. I think we’re going to do the tribute thing for Lachlan, and then we’re gone,” she says casually, watching me to see if I’ll open her gift.
“Lachlan,” I breathe, remembering him hitting the ground with shafts of arrows peppering him. Tears immediately spring to my eyes.
Molly shrugs, “They’re having some kind of funeral thing for him. The way Finn described it to me, it sounds kind of Arthurian–or Viking. They’re having a funeral pyre–it’s a Faerie rite,” she explains.
“When?” I ask.
“Today, before we go,” she says. “Are you okay? You look pale again. Do you need something to eat?” she asks, looking concerned.
“No, I’m fine,” I lie, giving a ghost of a smile.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Molly prompts me, seeing me frozen on the bed. “Nineteen. I bet you never pictured yourself here a year ago,” she says, holding her arms out palms up. “Nineteen–medieval castle–undead friends…”
“Uh, yeah. Surprise, right?” I agree feebly, while numbly opening the silver paper.
I unwrap the package and lift the lid of the small box. I push the tissue aside and blink back tears again. My fingertips glide tentatively over the blood-red jewel, shaped like a shield in a platinum setting. Next to the red diamond, strung on the same necklace, is my Uncle Jim’s class ring that I had given to Reed last Christmas. “How?” I ask breathlessly.
“They came with all of your stuff. I found them when I was going through the items for your room. I was afraid that Brennus wouldn’t let you have them, because it’s obvious that Reed gave you that necklace. It’s worth a large fortune—not something you would buy for yourself. And then, I had sent you your uncle’s class ring for Christmas last year, remember? You said you had someone you wanted to give it to. Two and two equals four,” she smiles.
“I don’t understand. I thought…” I trail off.
One of Molly’s eyebrows quirks. “Ohhh, you thought I’m one of ‘them,’” she says. “Well, I am and I’m not. I’m not a Faerie, so that makes me…more the calibre of a vampire because I was human once, not Faerie. You’ve seen what they think of vampires,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But, since I’m Finn’s vampire, they treat me like a pet…but not really an equal.”
“So you’re saying that if you’re not ‘one of them,’ then you’re free to do whatever you want?” I ask, seeing the gleam in her eyes.
“Dat’s right,” she agrees, sounding just like a fella. “I’m me own island—human-Gancanagh. Ye jus say da word and I’ll give ye a get-outta-jail-free card.”
“What?” I ask, exhaling my breath in a rush.
“Ye heard me. Do ye need more tellin’?” she asks with faux menace, as she lets her fangs shoot forward with a click. “Ye look like a tasty morsel and I promise na ta have more den a wee nip of ye.”
“They will kill you, Molly, if you break the contract,” I whisper, afraid for her. I look towards the door, just to make sure that no one is listening to us.
“They would try,” she responds honestly, giving me the cheeky smile that always accompanies the arrogance of the Gancanagh, while retracting her fangs.
“No way,” I reply, shaking my head. “Why would you even consider that?” I ask and I feel scared even talking about it out loud. If someone hears her, she is done.
“You almost died—for real. Not undead and happy, but dead and buried,” she whispers. “You weren’t even the one hit. It was Brennus. How are you supposed to defend yourself against that? Finn said the Fallen will be back for you or Brennus because it doesn’t matter. Hit one and you both fall. I just want to give you some better odds. Finn seems to think they can handle it, but I saw those Werree,” Molly shudders, looking a little haunted.
“You can’t help me,” I say, clutching her gift in my fist. “But, I will never forget that you offered.” I crawl from beneath the blanket to the other end of the bed, hugging Molly where she stands by the post. “And I will never forget your gift to me either.”
“You’re my family,” Molly whispers, and I nod my head, unable to respond at all because my throat is too tight. “You and Finn.”
“I love you—even if you’re a vampire,” I whisper.
Molly laughs softly at my joke. “And I love you—even if you’re a half-breed,” she whispers back.
“When is the funeral for Lachlan?” I ask, pulling back, but having a hard time seeing through my tears.
“Soon. Do you plan on going?” she asks. “Everyone is expecting that you will miss it because of your injuries. It takes you forever to heal,” she teases me.
“Yeah, well, I had to wait for Brennus to get better before I could, so I can only move as fast as what’s in front of me,” I reply with faux defensiveness. “I need to go to the funeral–tribute thing. He was my…personal guard—my friend,” I say, swallowing past the aching lump in my throat.
“Okay. I’ll go with you. Get ready and I’ll meet you back here. Wear a coat. I had them modified to fit your wings. It’s going to be out by the cliffs,” she says. “You still get cold, don’t you?”
I nod, “You?” I ask.
“Not so much,” she says, shaking her head. “Formal attire?” she asks.
“I’m betting they won’t be in jeans and trainers,” I reply. I only ever see the Gancanagh in tailored suits or elegant attire since coming to the castle. They dressed down when they were in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, but I think that was so they would blend in there.
“I wouldn’t wear the present I gave you, Eaves,” she warns as she walks to the door. “He might freak.”
“You think?” I ask her sarcastically, hearing her giggle as she leaves Brennus’ room.
Going to my closet, I pull out a silk robe and wrap myself in it. I stash my necklace and ring that Molly gave me into one of my shoes. I walk to the outer door that leads to the hallway and find Declan and a score of Gancanagh that I vaguely know waiting for me outside.
Surprised to find so many of them, I try to recover as I turn to Declan and say, “I need your help, De
ck.”
Surprise flickers in his eyes as he glances at Faolan, and then he pushes himself off the wall he had been leaning against. I hold the door wide for him, allowing him to enter my sitting room. Leaving the door open, we sit down in the chairs that face each other.
“I need to go to Lachlan’s tribute, but I don’t know what I should wear or what I should do to honor him,” I explain. “Can you help me?” I ask.
“Why?” he asks, looking puzzled.
“Because he was my friend—because it’s my fault that the Werree murdered him,” I reply, looking away as a tear escapes my eyes. I clench my teeth, trying really hard not to cry again.
“’Tis na yer fault, lass. Ye pulled us all back. We would’ve all walked through dat door wi’out ye figuring it out,” Declan says in a gentle tone.
“They were there for me,” I reply, gazing in his eyes.
“And ye took care of dem, did ye na?” he says with a look of admiration and respect.
“I did,” I reply, and he smiles. “So, will you help me?” I ask again.
“I will,” he replies. “Ye go take yer shower and put on a nice dress. Den, meet me in here and I will get ye ready for it. I’ll order ye some food, too. Ye still look pale.”
“Look who’s talking,” I tease him tiredly, before getting up from the chair to do as he instructed.
I shower and then put on a sleek, black dress that allows my wings to be out. I select the matching coat from the closet and impulsively retrieve the necklace and ring Molly had given me, shoving them in the pocket of my coat.
I lay my coat over the back of the chair in the sitting room before I sink into the chair facing Declan again. He has a pot of an inky, dark liquid that looks a lot like henna waiting on a small table near us. A wooden, pen-like implement rests inside the pot.
Picking up the pen, Declan says, “Dis is da story of Lachlan’s life, his death, his rebirth as a Gancanagh and his final battle.” Using the pen, Declan begins drawing lines upon my face, stopping occasionally to dip it in the pot. “We would do dis ta da wife, mother, and sisters of da warrior dat died, so dat dere tears would wash away da pain of dis life, making him clean ta face his next life.”
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