Blood of the Fae

by Tom Mohan

  Liza quickly dressed in jeans and a Pink Floyd t-shirt before sitting on the floor to put on her socks and Asics sneakers.

  Feeling better for being dressed, Liza opened her door and stepped out into the hallway. Hearing nothing abnormal, she moved down the stairs to the first floor. A quick glance out the front-door window showed that Jacob’s car was gone, but her rental was where she’d last parked it. There was no way she could stay in the house—the feeling of something there with her was too strong. She crept into the kitchen, grabbed her purse from the counter, and slipped out the door.

  Liza had made the trip to and from Halden’s Mill enough to have no problem getting there herself. She thought about going to Brianna’s house but wasn’t ready for the barrage of questions. She was actually surprised that Brianna hadn’t called her and guessed that Marcas had told his sister what had happened. Liza didn’t want to interfere with their mourning of their brother.

  She also considered making the drive to Kirksville to check on Fallon but was afraid that the girl would be awake and unaware of what had happened. Liza didn’t bother lying to herself. She had no desire to break the news to Fallon that Conall was dead, nor was it her place to do so.

  As Liza drove, it occurred to her that she was alone for the first time since coming to town. Alone and in her own car. There was nothing stopping her from heading out to the highway and going home. She could be at the airport in Kansas City in a few hours and on a flight home first thing in the morning.

  The idea took such hold that she found herself driving to the edge of town. She pulled to the side of the road and watched the cars pass along the highway, each heading to some destination known only to their driver. She wondered how many were going home to husbands and wives, parents and children. Homes filled with warmth and love.

  Liza leaned back in the seat. Tears burned in her eyes, threatening to spill over. She had nothing back in Los Angeles. Less than nothing. Right then, not a single person was missing her. Not a single person was wishing she was there with them. Manny’s face flashed across her mind, but she knew that even he was happy that she had finally taken a risk and stepped into the unknown. He might miss her, but he wouldn’t approve of her running back with her tail between her legs.

  Then, of course, there was Chief Murphy, who had made it clear that if she left town, he would find her and bring her back. She didn’t think that was a threat she wanted to test. She felt like Murphy was one of the good guys. Something was killing those he was responsible to protect, and Liza was an unknown, an outlier no one seemed to know what to do with. Even Brianna, who had brought Liza to town in the first place, didn’t know the reason why.

  Liza sighed as she turned around and drove back into town. Like it or not, she was stuck here awhile longer. She followed the route she’d taken that first day in the Mill and found herself driving by the coffee shop where she’d met Fallon. There was light and movement inside.

  She pulled her car into a parking space in front of The Morning Light and got out. A sign indicated the shop was still open. The bell above the door made a tinkling sound as she entered. Immediately, the wonderful aroma of fresh coffee hit her. For Liza, that smell never grew old.

  “Why, hello there!” The woman Liza had met that first day was standing behind the counter as though waiting for someone to come along.

  “Hello,” Liza said. She was the only customer in the shop. “I hope I’m not bothering you. If you were getting ready to close, I can leave.”

  “Nonsense, come on in. What can I get you?”

  Liza glanced at the menu on the wall behind the counter. It was handwritten in colored chalk, the lettering clearly legible without being overly fancy. “Um, a regular coffee? Black?”

  “No problem. Be right up.”

  “I’m kind of surprised to see a coffee shop open this time of night, especially in a small town.”

  Maggie turned back to the counter with the coffee. “Well, dear, I’m a widow. My Harry passed quite a number of years ago. You may not have noticed, but the Mill is a pretty small town, not a lot of eligible bachelors my age running around, and the ones that are, are still bachelors for a reason.” She gave Liza a knowing wink.

  “I come from a city of six million people, and we seem to have the same problem.”

  “Men like my Harry are hard to come by, that’s the truth. Anyway, being a widow with no one at home but me, the shop’s open when I want it to be open and closed when I want it to be closed. I had a kind of feeling that tonight someone was going to want coffee and conversation, and here you are.”

  Liza wondered if Maggie was one of the residents with special abilities or if she was a normal person. “Have you lived in this area your whole life, Maggie?”

  “Oh, heavens no, dear, though I’ve lived here the better part of forty years and some still treat me like a newcomer.” She smiled. “That’s the way of small towns, you know. No, we came from Chicago originally. My Harry always wanted to be a country doctor. He grew up in the city but always hated it. He made a good living in a hospital there, but he was never happy. We moved to a few towns—each one smaller than the one before—and finally settled in the Mill.” She paused, her ample chest resting on her arms on the counter. “Well, then, what am I doing talking your ear off standing at the counter? Please, make yourself comfortable. Sit anywhere that’s not already occupied.”

  Liza picked up her coffee and looked over the empty shop. “Okay, thanks. You’re sure I’m not keeping you from anything?”

  “Like what, dear? The dance clubs won’t be open for at least another hour yet.”

  Liza laughed. “More like another decade.”

  Maggie snorted and then broke into a cackle at her own snort. “Oh, dear, that was funny. I needed that laugh. Folks around here take themselves too serious most of the time. That’s why I opened this shop. Coffee makes folks happy.” She wiped tears from her eyes and followed Liza to an empty booth. “Now, tell me, what can I do for you this evening?”

  Liza wrapped her fingers around her coffee cup and gazed into the rising steam. “Nothing, really. I needed to get some air and saw your light on.”

  Maggie reached across the table and rested a hand on Liza’s arm. “I’ve heard about the Finns, dear. First Fallon and then Conall. Such a shame. I’ve never met better folks. Never, I tell you. How are Ana and Cullen holding up? Do you know?”

  Liza wasn’t sure what to say. “They’re taking it the best they can,” she said finally.

  “And poor Fallon?”

  Liza shook her head. “With all that went on last night, I haven’t had a chance to look in on her.” Liza’s voice choked. “I don’t know what to do, Maggie. I barely know them, and yet I feel like I’m constantly letting them down.”

  “How could you possibly let them down, dear? The Finns have been taking care of themselves quite well for a long time.”

  “That’s just it, I don’t know why I’m here. I…” Liza bit off her comment. She had forgotten that she was talking to someone who might actually know less than herself.

  Maggie patted her arm. “You know what you need? A nice piece of peanut butter cheesecake. You sit right here, and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

  Before Liza could say another word, the woman stood up and disappeared into the kitchen. Liza smiled to herself. Peanut butter cheesecake was her favorite. Maybe Maggie did have some magical abilities. Maybe everyone who lived near Tír na nÓg did.

  Maggie returned after only a couple minutes carrying two plates of cheesecake. Liza’s mouth watered at the sight. The shop owner set one plate in front of Liza before sitting back down across from her. “That’s homemade by yours truly. I had a feeling someone was going to need it.”

  “Peanut butter cheesecake is my favorite,” Liza said. She took a bite. “This is wonderful! I don’t think I’ve ever had anything so good.”

  “My mamma taught me to bake long ago. I sometimes think my Harry married me more for my cooking skills
than for my looks, though my looks weren’t bad back in the day.” She winked.

  As Liza ate her cheesecake, her thoughts went back to the spirits in the forest. She had felt so comfortable with the Finns. Could they be the killers the spirits claimed? She didn’t want to believe it, and yet she felt truth in their allegations. Marcas and Conall had to do something with those they caught trying to enter Tír na nÓg. Might they not kill them to protect the secret?

  She’d felt a lot of things since coming to Halden’s Mill. It was as if a part of her she never knew existed had been exposed to the world, a world she did not know but felt she should.

  “Something else is on your mind, isn’t it, dear?”

  Liza set her fork down and sipped the coffee. “When we were talking about the Finns, you said that you’d never met better folks. How well do you know them?”

  “Seems I’ve known Cullen and Ana since coming to the Mill, though I guess they would have been kids back then. Watched their children grow up.” Her face grew confused. “Or did I watch them grow up? Oh dear, my mind is getting so forgetful. Truth be told, it seems they’ve always been around. Their family goes back generations around here, you know.”

  “There’s never been any trouble involving them?”

  “With the Finns? Of course not. Why would you even ask such a thing?”

  Liza again saw the confusion on Maggie’s face. “Just what happened with Conall, you know. Does Brianna come in your shop often?”

  “Brianna? She…she used to, I think. Seems I haven’t seen her in a while. Has she been sick?”

  Liza forced a smile. “No, she’s fine. Probably just busy.” She changed the subject. “This cheesecake is really good. Was it your mother’s recipe?”

  Liza half listened as Maggie went on about her mother teaching her to bake, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that things were falling apart. From what she understood of the Finns and the Old Ones, the townspeople should think of the Finns as regular people. While Maggie still sort of did, Liza saw the wheels of the woman’s mind trying to put things together that didn’t fit. She wondered how many others were beginning to see things for how they really were. And, if the Old Ones somehow managed to make everyone think the Finns were normal, everyday people, could they also hide the Finns’ darker secrets?

  “Maggie, do you know where Tobias Yoder lives?”

  “Tobias? Why would you want to see Tobias, dear?”

  “Um, well, Ruth hasn’t been feeling well, and I thought he should know.” She hated lying but didn’t know what else to say.

  “Well, I don’t know that Tobias would even care. Those two don’t get along much together, you know.”

  “I’d heard that, but Tobias came by the Finn farm yesterday, so I thought maybe they were trying to patch things up.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “Old Tobias is so set in his ways the Earth would revolve around the moon before he’d think of changing his mind. That said, it’d be nice to see him and Ruth bury the hatchet, metaphorically speaking, of course.”

  “Of course,” Liza said, taking the last bite of cheesecake and washing it down with coffee. “This has been wonderful, Maggie. I appreciate you taking in a stranger like this. How much do I owe you for the coffee and cake?”

  Maggie waved a pudgy hand. “You don’t owe me anything, dear. That’s another benefit of owning the place more as a hobby than a business. I charge if I want, and I don’t charge if I don’t want. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now, if you really want to visit old Tobias, I’ll get you directions.”

  Liza pulled out her phone to enter the address into the GPS, but Maggie took a pen from her apron and drew a map on a napkin.

  “Take the blacktop west—that’s away from the highway—until you see the Amish store on the right. You can’t miss it with that big sign they have there. Turn left on the next road you come to and, well, I’m pretty sure Tobias’s place is the second house you’ll come to on the right. It has a big red barn that always looks like it was painted just yesterday. You can’t miss it.”

  Liza took the map and slid out of the booth. “I really do appreciate the help.”

  “It was nothing, dear. Nothing at all. I had the feeling someone was going to need some cake and coffee tonight, and I’m glad I paid attention.” She stood and spread her arms. “Give me a hug now.”

  Liza did, enjoying the softness and comfort of the older woman. She wondered if this was what others experienced when hugging their own mothers or grandmothers. She pushed the thought from her head. She would never know. Maggie followed Liza out the door into the seemingly unending Midwest dusk.

  “Do you think Tobias will still be up?” Liza asked. “It’s after eight.”

  “He’ll be up, dear. Folks like Tobias don’t sleep much.”

  “Thanks again, Maggie.” Liza climbed into her rental car and, with one last wave, headed west out of town. She wasn’t even sure why she was going to see Tobias Yoder, but one thing she did know—she was not looking forward to it.

  Liza found the house with little problem, right where Maggie said it would be. She hadn’t realized how nervous she was until she was pulling into the driveway. She considered turning around, but then the front door of the modest house opened and Tobias stepped out onto the small porch.

  The old man’s eyes were shaded by bushy eyebrows, but Liza knew they were looking straight at her. She could almost imagine his disapproval from where she sat.

  Liza took in the house and yard. So far, each of the three houses belonging to Old Ones had been completely different from one another. Tobias’s house was by far the simplest—single story, white paint, pull-down blinds on the windows inside with shutters on the outside. The yard was a combination of grass and dirt with four chickens milling about, pecking the ground.

  Tobias wore his customary white shirt and black pants. His long beard covered most of his chest. He stood with his hands buried deep in his pockets.

  Finally, Liza got out of the car and took a few hesitant steps toward the old man.

  “I was wondering when you’d show up here,” he said. His voice was neither welcoming nor condemning.

  “I don’t really know why I came,” Liza said. “I guess I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “You could go back home.”

  Liza nodded but said, “No, I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I tried. I really did.” She held the old man’s gaze with her own. “I don’t know why I was brought to this town or what my role in all of this is, but I do have a role.” She pulled the pendant over her head and held it out where he could see it. “Do you know what this is?”

  He squinted in the fading light. “Come closer, girl. Bring it where I can see it.”

  Liza approached Tobias, still holding the pendant out before her. He took a hand from his pocket and palmed the pendant.

  “Glory be, that’s the talisman of the Prince himself.”

  “The Prince? The Prince that Conall was talking about?”

  “Where did you get this?”

  “My mom threw it in the trash the night I was conceived. Her gardener pulled it out and kept it. He gave it to me before I left to come here. He said he’d always thought it belonged to my real father.”

  “What do you know about your father?”

  Liza shrugged. “Nothing. My mom says that night was like a dream she can barely remember.”

  Tobias released the pendant. “Put that back on. Keep it on. Don’t let it go for any reason.”

  “Why? What is it?”

  Tobias started to speak, but he grew still, his eyes searching the shadows. “Get in the house, girl—now!”

  The urgency in his voice chilled Liza, and she let him lead her inside. Tobias closed the door and locked it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s something out there. I could feel it, like it was stalking us.”

  The image of the dead Old One came to Liza. What if Conall wasn’t the killer
?

  “What do we do?”

  “Hush. Let me think.”

  Liza scanned the shadows of the house. No lights were on. She wasn’t even sure if the Amish used electricity. Tobias took her arm and led her through near darkness. They stopped as he opened a door. “In here. Mind your step on the stairs.”

  Tobias’s strong hand guided Liza through the door. She felt the floor drop from under her foot and stepped down. Again, the image of the dead Old One invaded her mind. “I don’t want to go down there,” she whispered.

  He must have known what she was thinking. “We’ll not meet the same fate as poor Thomas.”

  He guided her down a couple more steps, and then she heard the door close and a click as a light came on below. He rushed her the rest of the way down to a rough basement. The room was nothing but concrete walls and floor and wood beams supporting the house above.

  Liza felt the pendant grow cold. The same feeling of dread from back in Los Angeles and the hotel in Kansas City overcame her. “Something’s out there.”

  The old man turned to her. “How do you know?”

  “How do you?”

  “I can feel it. It’s in my blood to feel these things.”

  Liza nodded. “I feel it, too. I can feel it out there. It knows we’re here, knows I’m here.”

  Tobias looked at her, one bushy eyebrow raised. “You can feel it, can you? Just what is it you feel?”

  Liza thought about it a moment. “Like I’m being hunted. Like something hates me and wants to harm me. It isn’t a feeling like something I’m thinking. It’s more physical. Like the closer it gets, the more my physical-self responds.”

  “Responds in fear?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that talisman you wear around your neck? What’s its reaction?”

  Liza noticed that he did not ask if there was a reaction, but what that reaction was. “It’s cold. It gets so cold it burns whenever something like this happens.”

  Tobias opened his mouth to say something more, but a sound from above quieted him. He put a finger to his lips. Liza nodded, and the two of them stood in silence. Upstairs, something moved. The movement was quiet, but Liza didn’t think it cared about caution. It was stealthy by design.