Children of the Veil (Aisling Chronicles)

by Colleen Halverson

  The dearg-dubh shrugged, scratching his head.

  Eamonn whispered something and made a complex gesture with his hands. A plastic first aid kit appeared in his hands. He smiled as he pressed it into my hands. “This should work, but let me know if you need anything else.”

  “A bottle of whiskey, maybe?” I peered up at the Druid.

  He shook his head. “Not sure if I could—”

  I lifted my hand and waved him away. “I was just kidding.”

  Sort of.

  “There’s still running water back there,” Malachy piped up, already edging toward an old mat he had set up for a bed. He yawned. “Good luck, Princess.”

  Eamonn leaned in to me. “Maybe it would be best to give him space? Let him sleep it off?”

  I inched toward the back offices. “It’s fine. I think we need to talk.”

  The Druid nodded and retreated into the shadows to sleep.

  I walked back to the station, my footsteps echoing across the mosaic floor. The door opened with a loud creak, and I peeked inside, the first aid kit clutched tight against my chest.

  Finn sat on an old desk, his head in his hands, dark hair covering his face. He looked up and leveled me with a hard stare as I walked across the threshold, closing the door behind me. His eye had swelled shut, his lip split in two places, and bright red blood dripped down his chin. A great gash stretched across his cheek where Balar’s knuckles had broken through, and one hand clutched at his ribs. His skin was a map of bruises, bursting in supernova hues across the hills and valleys of his body. The color had drained from his face, and his eyes looked feral, almost afraid, as he studied me across the room.

  “Eamonn gave me—”

  I barely had time to breathe the words when he lunged at me with one step across the office, his hands in my hair, his lips planted on my mouth. He pushed me up against the wall, crushing my hands with his body. He grabbed them and pinned them above my head, pressing his chest closer to mine. The kit dropped to the floor with a clatter. Finn grunted, his hand sweeping down the boning of my corset, grabbing at my petticoats, ripping through the yards of lace even as his hips rolled painfully into my belly. His hand hesitated on my pistol, and then his fingers worked furiously with the strap on my thigh, palming the weapon in his hand before letting it slip softly to the floor. I gasped as he tore my panties, his fingers grazing across my delicate skin. My knees gave out, and he held me up by my wrists, his breath hot and fast in my ear. I knew I should have pushed him away, but desire for him bloomed deep in my stomach, my thighs opening wider as he wedged himself closer against my hips.

  He hoisted me up higher on the wall, my ankles crossing at the small of his back. His erection pulsed at my folds, and I was so wet for him. My world narrowed, until all I could taste was the salt of his skin, only feel the bruising press of his fingers, the silky strands of hair as they swept across my cheek as he planted eager, forceful kisses against my ear, along my neck.

  He made a low, urgent sound in the back of his throat, and then his cock found my opening and he thrust inside me. He fucked like he fought. Relentlessly. Mercilessly. He turned my body to water, my back rubbing painfully across the door with each hard stab of his hips, my legs splayed open to let him enter me again and again. My orgasm came suddenly, a flash of lightning in my brain, and I went limp in his arms, the pleasure shooting into every nerve until all I knew was his body, the smell of his sweat, the pounding of his heart.

  Finn moaned as I contracted around him, his cock drilling me hard. He released my wrists and wrapped his arms around me, coming so deep I could feel the pressure on my womb. I locked my ankles around him tighter, my fingernails digging into his back as he filled me to overflowing with his warmth. He shuddered with a low moan, gasping for breath. Sweeping my loose hair away from my forehead, he kissed me long and hard, our lips cemented together as he rode out his thunderous climax, the response to my unspeakable need for his body.

  With his cock still buried inside me, he carried me over to a blanket in the corner, folding me gently in his arms. We lay like that for a long time, our breathing returning to normal.

  “Did I hurt you?” He lay beneath me, but the softness of his voice made him seem miles away.

  “No.”

  Finn stroked the side of my face, sweeping the hair behind my ear like a child.

  “Where did you get that pistol?”

  “Morven gave it to me.”

  Finn let out a long exhale and then swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing against my forehead where I nestled up next to him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he said in a low voice.

  I paused and rolled over, Finn’s spent cock slipping from between my thighs. We faced each other nose to nose. The hollow look in his eyes had gone, replaced by a deep hurt that made my breath hitch. I swallowed the lump in my throat, staring down at his chest and tracing the outline of a nasty bruise.

  “You took my spear.”

  Finn eyes widened and he grabbed my shoulders, sitting up. “Elizabeth, that spear is dangerous.”

  I gazed over at the pistol lying on the floor. “Apparently, so is that.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I let out a long exhale, my shoulders slumping in his grasp. “Listen. I didn’t tell you because I knew how you’d be. ‘Oh, lookie here there little lady, your delicate uterus can’t handle a gun. Let the menfolk take care of the firearms.’ And then there’d be this big fight, and I just…” I trailed off, blowing a lock of hair out of my face.

  Finn smoothed his hands down my arms and wrapped my fingers with his. “First of all, I don’t talk like John Wayne.”

  I snorted.

  “Second of all, after The Book of Arranmore, you should know better than to go around accepting magical objects without checking in with someone like me—”

  “Check in? Are you fucking serious—?”

  Finn cut me off. “Or Eamonn, or Regina, who you know carries a pistol, or anyone else who has knowledge of this world. Morven may have been a Child of Lir, but that doesn’t mean we can trust him. Or anyone. Ever.”

  I nodded, heat rising to my cheeks. I really should have known better, and the reality of that stung.

  “Thirdly.” He looked down and squeezed my hands tight. “If you want a pistol, I’ll get you a fecking pistol. I would give you the moon if that is what you wanted, Elizabeth.”

  I stared up at Finn through the curtain of my hair. “So you’re not mad?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Oh, I am furious at you. What were you thinking bringing a weapon into the presence of a cenn fine? I wouldn’t have done that even as a Fianna warrior. Those territories are sacred grounds, ruled by laws that are centuries old, Elizabeth. As old as time. There is honor even amongst thieves like Torc Triath, and if you had asked, you might have known that.”

  I nodded, hanging my head low.

  He tucked his finger under my chin and forced me to meet his gaze. “But there’s no denying you looked like pure sex with that pistol in your hand.”

  I laughed, desire quickening again in my belly. Clearing my throat, I ran my fingers across his battered chest. “I love you. I’m so…” My voice broke, and I looked away. “I’m so sorry. You could have died. You almost died.”

  “No, love. No, shhh…it’s done.” He collected me tight against his chest. “You know, you came to me in the ring. I think I had passed out, and I felt your hand shaking me. You were begging me to wake up. I could smell you.” He breathed in my hair. “You smelled like spring and…I don’t know. You. It brought me back to life.”

  I nodded. “I think I somehow broke through the gemel. I did it once before, but I don’t know how. I just get mad and something sneaks through.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Elizabeth.”

  “Yes.”

  He looked down at me through his long eyelashes, his one eye still closed up and swollen. “Don’t ever keep secre
ts from me.”

  Something must have passed across my face because Finn’s face darkened, his muscles tensing. “What is it?”

  I sold a part of my soul to a demon to save you, and now I can’t find it. And I’m scared. The words burned on my tongue, but I couldn’t say them. They just wouldn’t form in my mouth. I cleared my throat, looking down in Finn’s lap. He had sprung an erection again, and it made me smile.

  “There is something I need to tell you.” I met his serious gaze. “I’m not a fan of John Coltrane.”

  “What?” Finn shook his head, blinking rapidly.

  “It’s shocking, I know. His collaboration with Miles Davis is excellent, but A Love Supreme? It sounds like a bunch of dyslexic cows wandering aimlessly through a cornfield.”

  He spluttered, raising his hands to the ceiling. “I cannot believe what I’m hearing.”

  “It’s true.” I grabbed hold of his cock and ran my fingers up and down his long shaft. “Do you think you could forgive me?”

  He readjusted himself, placing his hand firmly over mine. “I may, in time, come to an understanding.”

  I looked down at his swollen erection between my fingers. “That’s funny, because it seems like you could come to an understanding any second now.”

  He made a low sound in his throat and tackled me, pinning me beneath him. “You crazy woman,” he breathed, his cock sliding into my opening already slick from our previous lovemaking. “You crazy woman.”

  …

  My eyes snapped open, the darkness a pressing weight on my body. A horrible, burning sensation burst in my chest, constricting my lungs and cutting off my oxygen. Gasping for breath, I jumped from the mat where Finn and I slept, racing blindly to the door of the office and stumbled out into the station. Something flaming hot bubbled up my throat, and I cupped my hand over my mouth, expecting bile, but when I drew my fingers away, they dripped black, flecks of ash inside the oily liquid. More sputtered up, and I collapsed onto the floor in front of an old trashcan, the dark, ashy substance pumping from my chest. It tasted bitter and hot, and I spit it out in sharp heaves.

  “Elizabeth?” Eamonn’s soft voice echoed through the station. “Are you all right? Are you sick?”

  “Go away!” I growled, and the sound that came out of my mouth sounded hollow and guttural like…

  Like a demon.

  A shadow fell across my eyes, and I glanced over my shoulder at Eamonn, but instead of the Druid, I saw a pulsing white light darting toward me through the station. I licked my lips, the burn of the black liquid turning sickening sweet and cloying. Some part of me craved the light, wanting to consume it, swallow it whole.

  “Jaysus!” The white light shattered and Eamonn stood there again, his eyes blurry from sleep. “Elizabeth your eyes, they…they…”

  I blinked and scuttled backward. What had I done? What had I said?

  “Please go away, Eamonn.” I slouched against the wall, wiping my face, my abs aching.

  He crouched over me. “What’s happened to you?”

  I shook my head, burying my face in my arms. Máirtín had said my soul might heal on its own, but this didn’t feel much like healing. My shoulders shook, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead, knowing I had to come clean about what happened. I couldn’t save my soul by myself.

  I looked up to face the Druid, my voice thick and hoarse. “Eamonn, I did a terrible thing.”

  “What is it? Should I get Finn?”

  “No!” The word echoed through the station, and I stood up, grabbing Eamonn’s hand and leading him into a back office. I shut the door with a gentle click.

  “The thing is…” I turned and took a shuddering breath before meeting the Druid’s gaze. “I sacrificed a piece of my soul to a demon.”

  “You did what?” he hissed. “Why? How?”

  “It’s not important. The thing is, he didn’t get a hold of it, but I think other people might have. Maybe the Fir Bolgs. I don’t know.”

  “The Fir Bolgs?” he cried with a violent shake of his head. He steadied himself on the edge of a desk and took a deep breath. “All right. How long ago was this?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe a month? I lost track of time in the facility.”

  “Right. And have you had any symptoms?”

  “Just a burning in my chest, and tonight, well…”

  Eamonn nodded. “I see.”

  “Máirtín said that my soul might heal—”

  “Máirtín knows?”

  “Yes, he…he blessed me.”

  The Druid paced the room, his head bobbing vigorously as he rubbed his hands together. “Good, good. Máirtín has divine gifts. The demon should not be able to touch you in this realm if the blessing worked.”

  “Okay.” I let out a long exhale, my spirits lifting a little. “So that’s good right?”

  “No, it’s bad.” He whirled to face me. “The soul sickness has taken hold. You need to get your soul back. Tonight. We don’t have much time. Days. Maybe a week at the most.”

  “And if I don’t get it back?”

  Eamonn paused, his eyes grave. “What’s left of your soul will die and you will succumb to the darkness.”

  “Great.”

  “Elizabeth, this is serious.”

  I stared up at him through my straggly hair. “You don’t think I know that?”

  He made for the door. “We need to tell Finn.”

  “No!” I pressed my palms against his chest, blocking the exit. “He can’t know. Not yet.”

  “Are you insane?”

  “I’ll tell him. I swear. It’s just…” I bit my lip, staring at the floor. “We have come so far to find my mother, and I feel like I’m close. Really close. I know Anny Black can lead me to her. Let’s just wait until after we see her tomorrow, and then—”

  “Absolutely not,” Eamonn hissed. “There’s no guarantee Anny Black knows where your mother is. She could be anywhere. In the meantime, your soul is deteriorating at a rapid rate, and—”

  “Just give me twenty-four hours. That’s all I ask. Let’s fulfill the mission, destroy the portal.”

  He shook his head, taking a step back. “You are being very foolish.”

  “One day is all I ask. Then we tell Finn, and we make a plan to get my soul back.”

  His frown deepened

  “Please?” I asked.

  After a tense moment, Eamonn exhaled, nodding. “You have one day before I tell Finn myself. I won’t keep secrets from him.”

  The accusation in the Druid’s voice stung, and I swallowed hard. “I’ll tell him the truth. I swear. I just…I have to see this thing through.”

  Eamonn placed a hand on my shoulder, his eyes sad. “I know this mission is important to you, and I know how badly you want to find your mother, but do not do this at the expense of your soul. It is the only one you have.”

  I peered up at the Druid, clapping my hand on his. “One day. Twenty-four hours.”

  He nodded. “Twenty-four hours.”

  Chapter Thirty

  We stood in Torc’s office, the púca listening intently to Malachy with his chin resting on his steepled fingers. Feeble sunlight filtered through the small windows above, making square patterns on the floor.

  “We just need four púcas for the spell to work,” Malachy said. “They don’t even have to do anything. Eamonn will use them to create a glamour on us, and we’ll pretend like two of us need passage to the other side.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a muscle in Finn’s jaw flicker. He hated Malachy’s plan, but no matter how we rolled things over when we’d discussed it in the station, all roads led to this. Love it or hate it, we had to find a way to trick Anny into showing us the portal.

  Torc leaned back in his chair and it groaned beneath his bulk. “I said I would help you with your little crusade, bloodsucker. You didn’t say anything about Druid spells.”

  “We need a disguise.” I stepped forward, squaring my shoulders. “We need to get cl
ose to Anny’s portal to shut it down.”

  “That’s just the thing, Princess.” Torc narrowed his eyes. “I would rather you didn’t shut it down.”

  “You promised! Finn fought Balar—”

  “And killed one of my best soldiers!” Torc bellowed. He shuffled some papers on his desk.

  Finn crossed his arms over his puffed chest as if to say he would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

  “Look,” I said. “You said yourself that Anny Black has been doing this without your knowledge. You need to stop her. The portal is open now, sure, but the Fir Bolgs are going to destroy the Veil and close off all traffic between the realms.”

  “All the more reason to have a portal,” Torc said, slamming some files in a drawer.

  “No,” Eamonn piped up, and everyone turned and stared at the unassuming Druid in the corner. “It would be impossible to create a portal to another dimension without black magic.”

  “Explain yourself.” Torc leaned forward, his mouth twisting in a frown.

  Eamonn stepped toward his desk. “You see, before the Druids and bards created the Veil, Tír na nÓg and the mortal realm were…I guess you would say…intertwined.” Eamonn laced his fingers together to illustrate. “The Otherworld, what we call Tír na nÓg now, was actually not ‘Other’ at all. It was all around us, in the air, in the water, in the sea. We could see it, experience it, live in it, breathe it. When Amergin exiled the Fae, that interconnection broke apart.” Eamonn unlaced his fingers. “Instead we became like two tectonic plates slipping, one on top of the other but still touching, still interconnected if only momentarily at times.” Eamonn rubbed the edges of his hands back and forth, the motion making a small whispering sound in the office. “We knew the Otherworld was there, and we could feel the repercussions of its instability in our own world, but we couldn’t see it, and only a few of its inhabitants could pass over to the mortal world, and vice versa.

  “What the Fir Bolgs are proposing is to break that connection forever.” Eamonn drifted his hands apart and they seemed to float like continents upon some invisible sea. “They want to sever the ties that still bind Tír na nÓg to the mortal world. Tír na nÓg would become a separate dimension rather than an intermediary of this plane. Unless you are an aisling or dabble in the dark arts, there is no way of entering another dimension. That access will be lost to us.”