by E. E. Holmes
§
Celeste turned to Hannah with wide eyes. “You are sure of this, Hannah?”
Hannah shook her head. “I’m not sure of anything. I just know I felt something very similar to the torn up spirits the Necromancers used.”
“Do you know where Catriona was before returning to Fairhaven for the Airechtas?” Finn asked. “Is there a chance she might have come across a Necromancer Casting in her most recent work for the Trackers?”
“The other Trackers are retracing her steps as we speak, reviewing her case notes and work logs. Her Tracking partner, Katrina, has been summoned back from the field to help as well. The last place we know for sure that Catriona traveled on official Durupinen business was the Traveler Clan encampment in the north country.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Ileana’s clan?” I asked sharply. “The encampment I stayed in three years ago?”
Celeste nodded. “The very same. She has been following up on your Tracker case from October, I believe. The Walker you captured has been brought back there pending her trial.”
“We didn’t capture her,” I said. Realizing my voice sounded sharp, I tried to calm my tone as I went on. “We just Unmasked her. Catriona was the one who captured her.”
“Well, as you say,” Celeste said, clearly with little interest in this distinction. “She’s been back and forth to the encampment several times over the past few weeks. That’s where we’re starting our investigation. The Trackers will try to discover if something could have happened there that might explain this Habitation.”
“The Necromancers were there,” Finn said. “Three years ago they attacked the encampment. They used those same fragmented spirits as part of their assault on the Travelers. Is it possible some of their Castings linger there, or perhaps that some of those spirits were left behind?”
“I couldn’t say, but it is certainly possible,” Celeste said, chewing anxiously on a fingernail. Please, excuse me. I must relay this information to the Trackers at once. They need to be aware of this possibility, as much to protect themselves as to inform their investigation. Hannah, thank you for providing us with this insight. It may just be the key to helping Catriona.”
Hannah gave the smallest of smiles as she nodded. “Of course, Celeste. I hope it helps, truly.”
“Is there anything else we can do?” I asked.
“Not for the moment, no,” Celeste said with a sigh. “Just be sure to be present for the first session of the Airechtas this afternoon. I can’t believe we still have to hold these meetings today, on top of everything else! Excuse me, please.”
She hurried off, pulling a cell phone out of her pocket as she went.
“Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be getting on,” Mrs. Mistlemoore said. “I’ll be sending regular updates on Catriona’s condition to the Council.”
She trudged back through the hospital ward door. The rest of us stood around in silence for a moment before we all seemed to collectively realize that there was no reason to stay there anymore, and started walking back toward the entrance hall. Finn excused himself at the doors, saying he needed to return to the barracks to prepare for the opening processional of the Airechtas. I followed Hannah and Milo into the dining room. It was packed with people, all getting something to eat before the long afternoon of sessions began. I knew I should eat something, too, but as I walked past the trays of delicious food that had been laid out for the luncheon, I felt no hunger—only a vague and unsettling nausea. I grabbed a cup of coffee and a pair of dinner rolls, and made my way over to our traditional corner of solitude.
§
I sat staring into my coffee, thinking. I’d never cared for Catriona, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t profoundly disturbed by what I’d just witnessed. I had never seen Catriona display even the faintest sign of weakness—or indeed, much emotion at all. She was always so aloof, so impressively unconcerned with even serious situations, that watching her victimized like that was deeply disturbing. It was as though I had watched, helpless, as an impregnable fortress had been breached. And of course, watching the complete bafflement of Mrs. Mistlemoore and the others had only deepened my disquiet. I generally expected not to know what the hell was going on in the Durupinen world—it was basically my default setting these days. But if the Council and the entire hospital ward staff, with all of their collective experience in the spirit world, couldn’t understand what was happening to Catriona… that was truly unsettling.
I was not so naïve as to believe that the Necromancers would never resurface; after watching the Council’s hubris drive the entire Durupinen world to the brink of decimation, I was not about to repeat their mistake. Still, I had hoped that we would not face such a dangerous threat again so soon. An open assault was frightening, but at least you could see it coming. An attack like this—if that’s actually what it was—was a different kind of terrifying. It was insidious and undetectable. Whatever was Habitating in Catriona had done so without her realization. She had carried it unwittingly into the castle, a poisonous seed taking root inside her. Even as I tried to convince myself that Mrs. Mistlemoore and her staff would heal Catriona, I could not silence the nagging fear that she might be beyond their help.
“Jess?”
“Huh?”
Hannah’s inquisitive gaze pulled me up out of the rabbit hole my fears had sent me down. I met her eyes, and knew she understood exactly what I’d been brooding about.
“You really should try to eat those,” she said, pointing to the dinner rolls. “And something else, if you can manage it. That session is going to be long this afternoon, and somehow I don’t think the Council gives snack breaks.”
I tried to smile. “Really? You don’t think they have ancient tables set up for donuts and coffee in there?”
“I don’t think pastries are part of the ages-old traditions of Durupinen lawmaking,” Hannah replied.
“Well, that’s a crime. We should definitely suggest a policy change,” I said, before biting unenthusiastically into a roll.
“Speaking of making policy changes, we haven’t really had a lot of time to think about what Finvarra told us yesterday,” Hannah said quietly. She had dropped her eyes to her lunch; she’d eaten barely a bite, either.
“No, we haven’t,” I said with a sigh. “And it sounds like she’s going to nominate us whether we want her to or not.”
“So, what should we do?” Hannah asked. “I mean, what do you want to do?”
I finished chewing my roll, which had suddenly taken on the taste and consistency of gravel in my mouth. “I don’t know yet. I honestly don’t. She’s going to nominate us regardless, so I don’t think we have to decide anything yet.”
Hannah nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true.”
“I mean, most of the Durupinen either mistrust us or are terrified of us. I can’t imagine that anyone is actually going to cast a vote to let us anywhere near a Council seat, can you?”
Hannah shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe not.”
“And even if we wake up in some weird alternate universe where we are voted in, we don’t have to accept that seat. We could decline it. No one can force us to serve on the Council.”
“That is also true,” Hannah said.
I looked around the room. Three or four people at the nearest table were staring at us, hastily turning away when I caught their eyes. I laughed. “You know what? I say we just let Finvarra nominate us. It will probably be amusing to watch the panic that ensues. Maybe it will ease the mind-numbing boredom.”
“That’s the spirit!” Hannah said, actually grinning now, then turning to Milo. “How about you, Milo? Did you decide if you are coming to the meeting?”
“I may make an appearance,” Milo said airily. “It’s important to exercise the special privileges of the Spirit Guide.”
Mackie had explained to us that ghosts were not allowed in the Airechtas sessions, unless they had been summoned there for a specific purpose, such as to give testimony or to a
ct in some other official capacity. The one exception to this rule was Spirit Guides, who were considered an extension of a clan’s Gateway, and therefore invited to attend all sessions. They could not represent the clan in an official capacity: only Durupinen could do that. Otherwise, I would have cheerfully left the meetings to him and found somewhere to hide until this entire process was over.
“Be sure to use the connection to let me know if things get interesting, though,” Milo said. “I don’t want to miss any Durupinen cat fights or drama.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ah, yes. Everyone’s favorite reality show, 'Durupinen Policy Decisions’. About as exciting as C-SPAN, I’d imagine.”
“Hey, you’re going to have Marion in there. I would not underestimate the potential for edge-of-your-seat drama if I were you.” Milo said, and though he said it lightly, his eyes were troubled. “Just remember, her brand of drama queen thrives on a steady diet of attention. Don’t feed the queen, you got me?”
“I’m not going say two words to her, if I can help it,” I said firmly. “Whatever she’s trying to stir up, I’m staying out of it, if I can.”
“'If you can’ being the operative words, sweetness,” Milo said. Ever the mature adult, I stuck my tongue out at him.
A sudden striking of a gong made all three of us scream. I swiveled in my seat to check the grandfather clock in the corner and saw everyone rising from their chairs and proceeding toward the door out to the entrance hall.
“And so, it begins,” I muttered.
8
The Airechtas
SILENTLY, WE JOINED THE LINE in the entrance hall. Mackie was walking along it, consulting a clipboard and instructing other Durupinen where to stand. We approached her and waited while she made a note on her list.
“Hey there, you two. Want to know your spot in the parade? You’re right behind the marching band,” she said, gesturing along the line.
“Very funny,” I said. “Just tell us where to go.”
“Wait, we need to put these on,” Hannah said, reaching into her bag, and pulling out our clan sashes and Triskele pendants. She handed them to me with an apologetic look on her face.
I swallowed every snarky, whiney comment I had and flung the sash irritably over my shoulder. As if it weren’t bad enough we had to attend this thing, we also had to endure a freaking costume change.
“You know Fairhaven,” Mackie said genially, perhaps in response to the look on my face. “Nothing passes without the appropriate pomp and circumstance.”
“We noticed,” I said, and then leaned in so that no one would overhear us. “Did you hear about Catriona?”
Mackie’s smile slid off her face. “Yeah, I heard about that, alright. I’ve been trying to dodge questions about her for the last few minutes. Is she going to be okay, do you reckon?”
“I have no idea. She was far from okay when we left the hospital wing,” I said. “Did Celeste mention if they have an official diagnosis?”
“Nah, they’re just as stymied as they were when they brought her in. Celeste isn’t sure how much to tell everyone. She doesn’t want to draw attention to it, but at the same time they can hardly hide the fact that one of the Council members is conspicuously absent from today’s proceedings,” Mackie said.
“Is there even any point to having the meeting today? I thought every clan had to be accounted for, without exception; that’s what Karen told us. Can the Airechtas even proceed with a Council member missing?” Hannah asked.
“It could, if Catriona had someone to stand in for her, but the only other Durupinen from her clan is Lucida and… well…” Mackie trailed off, looking sheepish.
“She’s not exactly available,” I replied.
Mackie grinned. “Precisely. Anyway, I don’t think they ever vote on anything in the first day or two. It’s all policy proposals and propositions and suggested amendments and the like. I expect they will just keep pushing the voting off, until Mrs. Mistlemoore can get Catriona back into form again. They’re bound to figure out what’s wrong with her soon.”
She said this with a forced note of confidence, though her brow remained furrowed as she went back to her clipboard. A moment later an older Durupinen woman laid a hand on her elbow and leaned in to ask her something about seating arrangements, and so we left Mackie to deal with that and took our places in line.
“Hello, Jessica. Hannah,” a voice said from just over my shoulder.
Róisín and Riley Lightfoot were standing directly behind us.
“Hi, Riley. Hi, Róisín. It’s… uh… been a long time,” I said awkwardly.
I had been so intent on avoiding everyone’s gazes that I hadn’t even noticed them, and even if I had, I might have pretended not to. Róisín and Riley had both been first year Apprentices with us at Fairhaven three years before, but I couldn’t exactly call them friends. Both had belonged, by default and family association, to Peyton Clark’s elite clique. Peyton, being the spawn of Marion, was exactly as nasty as you’d expect her to be, and her clique had behaved according to her agenda. Róisín and Riley had participated, if somewhat reluctantly, in the constant campaign of humiliation and alienation that had plagued us during our first few miserable months at the castle. They had even helped Peyton and the other girls kidnap us in the middle of the night and trap us in the old ruins of the príosún hidden away in the wooded area of the grounds. Róisín had gotten cold feet when Peyton summoned the Elemental to torment us, and had abandoned the ritual hazing to go find help. If Finn and Carrick hadn’t rescued us on Róisín’s information, I cringed to think what would have happened to Hannah and me in that circle. But Róisín had refused to take credit for helping us when I tried to thank her. She was terrified that her interference on our behalf would jeopardize her social position among the other Apprentices, and so had continued to give us the cold shoulder in public. In fact, I don’t think she spoke another word to me, friendly or otherwise, until this totally unexpected hello.
It seemed the cold shoulder had melted in the intervening years, however, for Róisín gave us a warm smile and her voice, when she replied to my greeting, was friendly.
“It has been a long time. How have you both been?” she asked, as though we were old chums catching up over a nice latte and a scone.
Hannah shot me a startled look before turning back to Róisín to reply, “Fine, thanks. You?”
“Very well, thank you. We’re excited to participate this year. This is the first time both of us have been of age for an Airechtas, so it’s our first time sitting in on the sessions,” Róisín said. “Our mother will still be casting the vote, as she is on the Council, but we will be able to be a part of the process.”
“Yeah, that’s… great. I guess,” I said. What the hell else could I say? Honestly, I couldn’t be less enthused about being a part of the process. In fact, I was pretty sure it was “the process” that had royally screwed up my life over the past four years. The process, as Savvy would say, could well and truly sod off.
Róisín seemed to recognize our confusion, because her smile collapsed into a contrite expression. She sagged, dropping her eyes to her own fidgeting hands. “You probably can’t understand why I’m talking to you, particularly in light of how I behaved in the past. I know we haven’t… that is to say… I’m sorry for… I’d like to start over, if you would be amenable to that.”
Hannah and I looked at each other again. “Start over?” I repeated.
Róisín was blushing now. “Well, yes. A lot has changed since we last saw each other. That is to say, I’ve changed. Look, I never liked the way the other Apprentices treated you, but I was scared—scared that they would shut me out if I disagreed with them. Status is hard fought and easily lost around here, as you well know.” She shook her head briskly. “But that was no excuse for the way that I behaved, and I—we—want you to know how sorry we are.”
She looked over at Riley, whose expression was somewhat truculent. She did not meet our eyes, and I could tell fr
om the sour twist of Riley’s mouth that this reconciliation had not been her idea.
Normally, I might have nursed a grudge a little longer, or at least let Róisín apologize a few more times before letting it go. But here, in the depths of the vipers’ nest, I was ready to clutch at any offer of friendship like a drowning man clutches at a life preserver. And Hannah, it seemed, felt the same way, for she piped up before I could open my mouth.
“It’s okay, Róisín,” she said. “It was a long time ago, now.”
Róisín looked at Hannah skeptically, and opened her mouth again, but I cut her off.
“Seriously. Water under the bridge,” I said, even managing a smile.
Róisín’s expression cleared at once. Riley was still frowning, fiddling with her clan sash, although it was perfectly draped over her shoulder.
“That’s brilliant. I’m so pleased, really. So, you two will be voting, then?” Róisín asked. “Or is your aunt with you?”
“No, Karen couldn’t be here,” I said. “So, unfortunately, we will be doing the voting.”
“Why unfortunately?” Róisín asked.
I started to tell her that I’d cheerfully have a root canal instead of sit through this political garbage, when a familiar voice distracted me.
“I can’t even get her out of the room! She’s gone and locked it from the inside, and she’s not answering me anymore!” Savvy was saying to Siobhán. The two of them were standing on the first landing of the grand staircase, but Savvy’s voice, even louder than usual in her aggravation, carried clearly over the entrance hall.
Siobhán was making shushing gestures with her hands, glancing around nervously. When she replied, her voice was low enough that I couldn’t make out what she was saying, though whatever it was made Savvy snort derisively.
“Really, Siobhán? You think I haven’t tried that? I’m telling you she’s not coming down!” she cried. “And if you shush me one more time, I’ll show you what loud really sounds like!”