“You can lock me up, but you just wait,” I hissed. “I’ll find a way. You’ll see.”
Bright white pain burst in my side, and the sound of Neanderthal’s low, masculine laughter echoed around me as I hit the floor in a paralyzed heap. As if I couldn’t be more pathetic, the sharp burning pang of bile rose up in my throat and I heaved until I had nothing left in my stomach.
A man cursed. Another one swept my hair aside like we were at a frat party, and he was hoping to get laid. I closed my eyes, snorting puke through my nose, wishing I could move my limbs so I could wipe my face clean.
“That’s enough,” a voice boomed through the hallway. “Get away from her.”
I blinked, trying to put the world back together. The floor tilted forward, and I heaved again, my palms settling into the warm, sandy film of my puke.
Not my best day.
A pair of glimmering loafers filled my sight, and I looked up, following the lines of a finely pressed pair of trousers and a tailored suit jacket to peer into a pair of translucent irises rimmed with bright blue.
“Hello, Elizabeth Tanner,” the man said, his supermodel lips pursing at the consonants.
He padded the pocket of his suit, liberating a purple silk handkerchief and dabbing it gently at my mouth.
I glanced down and let out a choked cry.
The swirling lines of a delicate swan in flight stood out against the man’s pale skin like an ink stain. I looked up and studied his face.
“You’re Malachy Moray,” I said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Malachy rested his elbows on his knees and shook his head. “And you are a fucking mess,” he said under his breath.
He darted up and turned to one of the guards. “You, get a towel.” He pointed to another. “You, get her locked up in gemel and prepare her for transport. She needs to be on the bay in five minutes.”
One of the guards stepped forward, side-eying Malachy. “There’s no transport scheduled today.”
Malachy’s fangs extended from his mouth, his face dark with rage. “Did you read the Operations Order this morning? We have entered a level five security situation.” He gestured to me. “This Fae has a date with the Fir Bolgs at 1300 this afternoon for a prisoner exchange before all hell breaks loose.”
My skin prickled and blood roared in my ears. I lurched toward him. “You fucking bastard!”
“Gag her,” Malachy spat.
A pair of hands reached behind me, and I screamed, struggling as Brown Eyes brought a towel to the edge of my face. Neanderthal bruised my arms, the clank of chains falling to the floor as the manacles slammed across my wrists. The gleam of the metal told me someone had enchanted them.
“Get the fuck off of me!”
He stuffed a rag in my mouth, and then a hood came down over my eyes, everything going black. I let out a muffled scream as they dragged me to standing, my bare feet cold on the linoleum tiles. I went limp, heavy as a stone. I couldn’t go to the Fir Bolgs. I had to stall. Fight. Resist.
“Move, you bitch!” Neanderthal growled. He jammed something hard into my side.
“You keep this up and I’ll have the guard tase you again,” Malachy’s voice drawled beside me. “It’s nothing to me if we deliver a nuked vegetable to the Fir Bolgs.”
I stilled, Malachy’s low voice sending shivers down my spine. I could barely breathe through the stifling air inside my hood, and a wave of dizziness passed over me. I wanted to scream at Malachy Moray. How could he have sold out the rebellion? But I knew all about revenge. I had gotten my PhD in wiping the face of evil from the earth. If the Fir Bolgs didn’t destroy me first, I would return for Malachy Moray and kill him myself.
An intercom crackled, followed by a loud beep. A door clicked open and the frigid spring air blew through my cotton hospital gown. My skin prickled and my body shook as the cold wrapped my limbs in ice.
A loud engine roared up to where we stood, and someone shoved me down a flight of concrete stairs. I bit into the rag to keep from screaming, every bone in my body telling me to run. Run as fast as I could. But a hand gripped my arm and dragged me into the back of a van, the smell of motor oil filling my nostrils. I huddled on a bench, the blast from the heater shocking my skin. Bodies pressed on either side of me, and I tried to make myself smaller, wracking my brain for a way out.
I closed my eyes, trying to break through the layer of magic suppressing my powers. It felt like stumbling in a dark room with flashes of light flickering in my peripheral vision. Every time I reached directly for it, the light moved farther and farther away. I pushed through the darkness, grasping desperately toward the pulsing orbs at the edge of my sight, but something gripped me, pushing me back and away.
I let out a muffled howl of rage, slamming my foot against the metal floor of the van.
“I understand you’re upset, Elizabeth.” Malachy’s voice rose over the hum of the engine. “I want you to know, I never had anything against you. This is strictly business.”
I writhed with fury, and one of the guards clamped hard on my shoulder, holding me down. I let out a string of expletives through my gag.
“King Bodb Dearg is dead, you know,” Malachy said.
I stopped moving, my heart pounding. I shook my head, unable to process the words that had come out of Malachy’s mouth.
“The Fir Bolgs took him out,” he continued. “They’re advancing on Teamhair and trying to take out the royal family one by one.”
The guard next to me, No-Chin maybe, cleared his throat. “Sir, I don’t think—”
“Excuse me, Sergeant, I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” Malachy snapped. His voice lowered, and he must have leaned forward, because I could feel his cold breath in my ear. “Anyway, it’s a shame to lose you from the program, but it will be worth it in the end.”
I screamed through the rag stuffed in my mouth, but it came out as a stifled cry. A hand pulled me back, and I settled into the bench, my shoulders slumped forward. The van drove endlessly, the hood and the blasting heat making me sweat in spite of my thin hospital gown. We traveled on a highway, the steady lull of movement calming me, allowing me to focus on breaking free of the gemel locked against my wrists.
Come on, E. What’s a pair of magical handcuffs anyway? You made Bres’s head explode like a Molotov cocktail.
I steadied my breath, traveling back into the darkest regions of my mind, sifting through the clutter, the panic, the anxiety, to seek those flickering lights on the periphery. I could see it. It was there. Just one more inch…
One of the guards let out a booming fart, and I groaned inwardly, trying to stem my breathing inside my hood.
“Christ,” Brown Eyes cursed beneath his breath.
“Fuck you,” Neanderthal growled beside me, his chest vibrating with a suppressed chuckle.
“Enough,” Malachy said. “We’re here.”
The van slowed and screeched to a stop.
My chest tightened, and I started shaking again. Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me outside. My feet fell onto cold dead grass, and one of the guards dragged me forward. All I could hear was the sound of our footsteps through a frozen field, the clank of my chains breaking through the silence.
“We brought the girl,” Malachy called out.
One of the guards stopped me, his hand digging into my arm.
“Let’s see her then,” a voice cried out.
Light burst into my eyes as one of the guards lifted my hood. I blinked rapidly, trying to allow my eyes to adjust. Four Fir Bolgs I didn’t recognize stood about twelve feet away, rifles in their hands. Their weapons glowed faintly and had the telltale wiring of Fae weaponry.
I let out a strangled gasp through my gag. Orin stood in the middle of the Fir Bolgs, his wrists bound in glimmering chains of gemel, his shoulders stooped. His face was a slurry shade of gray, and his usually impeccably ironed robes draped in tattered ropes around him.
Malachy reached over and pulled the gag from my mouth
.
I swallowed hard, meeting Orin’s gaze.
“The counselor for the girl,” Malachy said. “You first.”
I stood sandwiched between two of the guards, their assault rifles lowered but their shoulders tense. A cold wind whipped through the field. Forest lined it on all sides. Not a house or a highway in sight. I tried to close my eyes again, channel my energy, but nothing happened. I stepped back and forth on each foot, my toes going numb. I couldn’t concentrate, could barely breathe through my freezing lungs.
“We do this at the same time,” the Fir Bolg answered. He nudged Orin forward.
Malachy nodded to No-Chin.
“Go,” he commanded.
I looked over my shoulder. “I’m a US citizen. My father is Colonel James Tanner. He’ll be looking for me.”
“Shut up.” Malachy grabbed me and sent me staggering to the Fir Bolgs. “Start walking.”
Orin looked me in the eye and blinked hard.
When I give the signal, get down.
My eyes widened, blood roaring in my ears. His lips hadn’t moved, but I heard him loud and clear in my head. What was Orin doing there? How had he become mixed in this?
Do you hear me? Get down when I tell you.
He was barely a foot away from me, and he limped, wincing each time he put pressure on his left leg.
Now!
I saw the Fir Bolg fall to the ground before the loud crack of a gunshot echoed across the field. Orin slammed into me, covering me with his ice-cold body. My cheek smashed into the dirt, the smell of dead leaves filling my nostrils.
“It’s a trap!” one of the Fir Bolgs cried.
“What the hell?” Neanderthal’s voice burst across the field, punctuated by a rattle of bullets. They cracked overhead, and I tried to crawl out from under Orin, but he had me pinned.
“Holy Shit! Fuck! Shit!” I squirmed, flinching at the blast of rapid fire. We were sitting ducks in that field.
“Stay down!” Orin cried over the fire fight. “As soon as Malachy has cover, he’s going to get us out of here.”
“Malachy is getting us out of here?”
The firefight had drifted into the woods, and I cautioned a glance in the direction of the sound. The Fir Bolgs darted between the trees, the soldiers in pursuit.
Malachy’s voice hissed in my ear, and his hand clamped down on my shoulder. “Time to go, you two.”
The magical pull of energy flooded my senses, but then a stray bullet whizzed past my ear and Malachy let out a strangled cry and fell backward.
Orin cursed, digging through Malachy’s pockets.
“Where is the key?” Orin cried. “We need to get out of here!”
Malachy’s eyes fluttered, but he didn’t respond. He lay prostrate on the ground, our ticket out of the firefight lost. And with Orin and I trapped in gemel, we were SOL. Fuck.
“One of the guards must have the key.” I scanned the field, seeking out a flash of black in the trees. I took a deep breath to make a run for it, and then the barrel of a gun pressed against my temple.
“You’re both coming with me.”
I turned and came face to face with a Fir Bolg, his long brown hair billowing around his coal-black eyes.
In a blur of movement, Orin tackled the Fir Bolg, the rifle shooting wildly into the woods. They wrestled, grappling for the rifle, but Orin couldn’t gain purchase with his wrists in chains. The Fir Bolg stood over him, lifting the rifle to shoot, but then his body seemed to bend over backwards, a burst of blood splattering all over the dearg-dubh’s pale face as a bullet tore through the Fir Bolg’s shoulder.
Another shot blasted through the air, catching him in the knee. He collapsed to the ground, and I grabbed his weapon, pulling the charging handle to the rear to chamber a round.
“Elizabeth!” Finn raced across the field, bullets tearing up the dirt behind him. He grabbed me, and we raced into the forest, leaving Malachy lying in the field.
Orin dove behind us, seeking shelter behind a rock.
“What are you doing here?” I shouted over the firefight. A bullet took a chunk of bark off the tree I hid behind, and I curled up closer against Finn.
“We’re here to rescue you,” Finn said through gritted teeth, returning fire from a Fir Bolg.
“Some rescue!” I held up my chained wrists. “Can you take these off with your sword?”
“Not without taking out both your hands.”
I cursed, slapping my palm against the tree.
Across the field, I spied one of the soldiers lying face down in the dirt. Brown Eyes. He might have the key. He had to, or we were as good as dead if we couldn’t travel out of here.
“Cover me!” I shouted to Finn.
“What?”
“Shoot those fuckers! Cover me! Do I have to draw you a fucking diagram?”
Finn cursed in Irish, lifting his rifle and pumping a round through the trees.
I darted out across the field, bullets singing past me. I reached the soldier, and he groaned as I flipped him over, blood pouring from his side.
“Where are the keys?” I pilfered through his pockets.
He struggled to get away, grabbing my hand.
“Listen, you moron.” I wrench my arm away. “I can get you out of here, but I need to unlock these chains. Now where is the key?”
He patted his chest, and I pulled out a glimmering key on a dull chain.
I unlocked the chains, and a surge of power burst through my limbs. The neurotoxin had worn off, and the flame of my aisling powers exploded in my belly. The bitch was back.
Finn ran across the field, followed by Orin.
“You could have been killed!” Finn’s face was flushed with rage.
“Shut up,” I cried, pointing to Malachy lying in the field. “Grab him.”
We shared a brief stare, and then Finn darted for the dearg-dubh, half dragging him toward us. He was wounded, but still conscious, his hand pressed hard against his arm.
I closed my eyes, throwing my power over us. With a rush of air, we traveled through space, the gunshots silencing like someone had flicked a switch. When I opened my eyes again, we stood in the park where I last saw my father.
Brown Eyes blinked and fell to his knees with a low moan, his hand spreading across his side covered in bright red blood.
“We need to go.” Orin placed a hand on my shoulder.
I took one look at Brown Eyes and shook my head. “Not yet.”
I grabbed Finn’s hand and led him toward the guard. “Heal him.”
He flinched away, his brow knitting. “Elizabeth…”
I pushed him forward. “Just do it.”
Finn knelt at the soldier’s side, and he shrank away.
“It’s okay.” I raised a hand in warning. “You’re going to be okay.”
A flash of light radiated from Finn’s fingertips, and Brown Eyes’s skin knitted back together, a shiny scar forming where, moments ago, a gaping hole had pulsed blood out onto the ground.
His eyes widened and he stared up at alarm at Finn and then at me.
“You’re going to be fine.” I turned to Orin, handing him the key to unlock his chains. “How did you—?”
“There’s no time to explain.” He shook his head. “We need to return to Teamhair.” He flicked his chin at Malachy swaying slightly on his feet. “All of us.”
I glanced at the dearg-dubh, my skin prickling. “But—”
“The King is dead!” Orin roared, his eyes darkening with frustration. “Bodb Dearg is dead. We cannot linger here.”
I glanced over at Finn, who was helping Brown Eyes to standing.
“Well, all aboard who’s coming aboard.” I pointed a finger at the guard. “But not you. You go and find Colonel James Tanner and you tell him what happened here today. And you tell him, if he betrayed me, he’s good as dead to me. Can you do that?”
The soldier nodded, stumbling away along the path leading out to the park.
“And hey!” I call
ed after him.
The soldier turned, glancing over his shoulder.
“Consider this a second chance,” I said. “If I find out you’re a part of that operation again in any way, I will hunt you down. And believe me. I will find you.”
He nodded, his eyes lingering on the ground before peering back at me. “My name is Brian. You asked me once. I’m sorry…”
“Just find my father.”
He turned around and disappeared around a corner.
My head swimming with confusion and exhaustion, I threw my energy around us and sent us spiraling back across the astral plane to Tír na nÓg.
Chapter Twenty-Three
When I opened my eyes again, I sat sprawled beneath a twilight sky, the cooing of evening doves fluttering above me, and the white spires of Teamhair twisting into bands of violet-hued clouds. Finn grabbed my hand and pulled me roughly to standing, crushing me against his chest.
“Jaysus, I thought I would never see you again,” he whispered in my ear.
I collapsed against him, allowing him to smother me in his warm, leathery, Finn smell. My body trembled with adrenaline, and I reached inside his jacket, clutching his shirt.
“How did you find me?” I breathed into the lapels of his jacket.
Finn glanced up and I followed his gaze to Malachy.
“You can thank him,” he said, nodding at the dearg-dubh.
I broke away from his arms. “What? How?”
“I know this is a very sweet reunion and all,” Malachy gasped, pitching forward, “but I have a Fae bullet stuck in my shoulder. Do you mind?”
My mouth gaped open as Finn lunged toward Malachy, taking his arm in his hand. The dearg-dubh who had killed his wife, who sold out my mother and the Children of Lir now stood by my ex-Fianna boyfriend and smiled as Finn sent a flame of light to his wounds. The bullet pushed through his pale skin and landed on the ground with a soft thump.
I darted forward. “Can someone explain to me what’s going on? This asshole vampire almost sold me to the Fir Bolgs!”
The sky darkened, and I shivered in the cool evening wind as it whispered through the long grass. The air whipped through my thin hospital gown, and my limbs felt heavy, the exhaustion of traveling taking its toll. I wrapped my arms around my waist, feeling about ready to collapse.
Children of the Veil (Aisling Chronicles) Page 22