Illuminate

by Tracy Clark

  There was a pause, and I waited to see if he’d write more.

  Give nothing of yourself until you’re here. Then I ask for you to consider giving your heart again. I hope you can forgive me. Life is too precious and tenuous. I’ll love you for as many precious moments as I have.

  I hadn’t let myself think like a regular girl, like a girl who’d once had a conflicted heart—who maybe did still. Giovanni’s text was a slow bullet to the chest, and I felt tears threaten as I stared at my phone and wondered how to respond. Passengers began filing back onto the plane. I had to be alert and aware so I simply said: bye.

  It shamed me to realize that life had already proven how very precious it was and that I wasn’t thinking about what made it so precious, as he was. How many opportunities would I have to use my beating heart or the vast and deep expanse of emotions it contained?

  I pulled up his text and started typing: If anything happens, please know I…

  “Excuse me, miss? Is anybody sitting here?” My fingers paused over the phone, and I looked up. My mouth went instantly dry. I could barely hear through the pounding in my head. The man, his aura flaring as white as snow around him, was pointing to the seat next to me and waiting with a polite smile for me to answer. It was all I could do to not scream. I dropped my phone on the floor, and he bent as I bent, and our hands touched. I heard his small intake of breath before Dun’s voice, deep and safe, said, “Excuse me, man. That’s my seat,” and barreled his way into our aisle to block me. Edmund, who had left to talk to someone, came back moments later and saw me, clammy and shaking, in the window seat, peering through the glass and trying to make myself as small as could be. This was no time to puff up and act tough. The guy might not even know about Scintilla, and I could only hope he’d simply felt a bit of succulent energy and would then forget about it. He’d just killed, after all. His white aura confirmed it.

  Trouble was, he sat in the row right in front of us. We’d be silenced the rest of the way to Santiago. It was too dangerous to speak of anything beyond the norm. The hardest part was overhearing the talk. The plane buzzed with news gathered from the layover. The Vatican had made a statement. They believed “the girl” was chosen as an instrument of God. That God worked through me, that God chose to save those children on the steps of the Holy Roman Church as a sign to the faithful.

  Edmund acted as though he’d been personally taunted. “Can you freaking believe them? What’d I tell you? I knew they’d try to spin it to point their self-righteous fingers back at themselves.”

  “Shhhh.”

  “Hey, girl,” Dun said, elbowing me lightly as I stared at the tops of clouds. “Go to sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

  I wanted to protest, but my body was leaden, my heavy lids were barely staying open, and I felt fatigue so intense that I was nauseous. I could see the Arrazi’s head still slumped to the side, and so I surrendered. Dun covered me with his hoodie and I drifted off, clutching his arm like a pillow.

  He jiggled me awake after what felt like only minutes. “We’re preparing to land. You might want to freshen up,” he whispered, touching his neck to let me know I needed to cover up my marks again with fresh makeup.

  “How often do people have to reapply this stuff? It felt like Spackle going on. I thought it would last for days.”

  “Depends on the girl,” Dun said, like he was actually giving my question serious consideration.

  “I don’t really know how to girl.”

  “Well, right now you just want to be ‘Scary Spice.’ Put on some more eyeliner.”

  “What are you even talking about?” I said, moving my tongue over my dry lips. My mouth tasted like a cat had crapped in it. I clumsily dabbed foundation on my neck and forehead with my fingers.

  Dun handed me a disposable toothbrush. “Yes, it stinks as bad as it tastes.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Yup. Shutting up.”

  With all the patience of a herd of wildebeests, the entire plane stood even before the doors were opened. The Arrazi in front of me had been asleep much of the trip, likely full on his meal of human soul, I thought wryly. He must’ve gotten off the plane and killed on the layover. I didn’t like how many times he glanced at me, no matter how polite his smile was. Apparently Dun didn’t, either, because he glared at the guy and said, “Turn around, will ya?” I pulled on the end of his sleeve and gave him the death stare. Even if by chance the guy didn’t know about Scintilla, he still knew he could kill Dun without touching him. I could see it in his defiant stare and smirk back at Dun.

  If I crawled under the seat, I didn’t think I could make myself any smaller. It was the exact opposite of what I wanted to do. What I wanted was to kick the Arrazi in his teeth to rousing applause like a movie heroine. Some hero I was, meekly sitting behind Dun’s ass as he blocked the guy from looking at me.

  Luckily, the rows filed out and we shuffled forward with me at the very back. Through the plane, breathe, down the stairs, breathe, out of the airport, look around, breathe. That’s what my life had become, a step-by-step endurance race.

  “That guy was Arrazi,” I hissed at Dun once we were clear of the crowds. “Do not engage people like that.”

  “What?” His face paled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because he was right in front of us and telepathy isn’t my sortilege. I also didn’t want you emanating the fear and adrenaline like what’s coming off your aura right now.”

  “I don’t know how you slept with him there.”

  I shrugged. “Survival.” I had to.

  Customs was harrowing. I endured the scrutiny of the officer who looked from me to the “borrowed” passport and back. I shot energy at him in soft waves, and he eventually stamped me into South America. Edmund had rented us a car so we’d have privacy getting to my grandmother’s. I had her address, and we used Edmund’s phone for GPS. “Things are going smoother than I thought,” Edmund said cheerfully.

  I stretched my arms over my head and touched my toes. “That’s what worries me.” Like on cue, the guy from the airplane approached again. “Wonder if I could catch a ride with you to the city? I’m having trouble finding a taxi. Sorry about the misunderstanding earlier, bro,” he said to Dun, who looked more cautious now. I nonchalantly slipped into the car with Edmund. “You looked familiar, and I thought maybe we’d worked together on another show.”

  “No man. We haven’t,” Dun said, opening the door and putting one foot inside. Edmund had the engine started. We couldn’t be clearer or more unwelcoming.

  “Let’s go,” I said, high unease hitting my limbs. This was weird. Arrazi or not, the guy was acting off. My regular human instincts were enough to tell me that.

  “No ride,” Dun said. “We’re in a hurry. Sorry.”

  The man was typing in his phone. “I understand,” he said and suddenly snapped a picture!

  Dun jumped in the car as it was screeching away. Through the back window, we could see him taking photos of our license plate, too. “Dammit!” Edmund said, hitting the steering wheel.

  “Okay, let’s not panic,” I said, trying hard to slow my pounding heart. “We don’t know why he took those pictures. He’s Arrazi but maybe clueless about what I am. So it’s possible he just thinks he recognized us from the news?”

  “Well I’m not cutting off all my pretty hair,” Dun said, though his serious tone soiled the joke.

  “The question is,” Edmund said, “what’s he going to do with that picture? Who’s he going to share it with? I need to get control of this show.”

  “This is not a show. This is my life, my rad horror of a life. Let’s just get to Mami Tulke’s,” I said, leaning my head on the window and watching La Serena roll by, showered with the pink and blue of a new dawn. “We can figure out what to do once we’re there.” With every moment, I regretted the decision to come to Chile. I’d only bring trouble on everyone. It was becoming clear that I’d be found no matter what. Either by the Arrazi or—everyone else.
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  “Your grandma’s place is remote,” Dun told us. “Away from pretty much all civilization, except the cosmic mystic hippies who live in this village near her. More like a commune. They’re a trip, let me just tell you. Anyway, it’s a good place to hide. If we’re not followed, that is.”

  I sighed, thinking of the man and his camera, the worldwide news coverage, and the hounds who had already learned my identity. “We’ll be followed.”

  It was a matter of time.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Finn

  How or why would Saoirse possibly feel responsible for her mother’s death? Ultana drove the blade into her damn fool self. What kind of misplaced guilt was Saoirse carrying?

  I thought back to the day I’d discovered Cora and the others at the research facility. After my confrontation with Cora, I’d walked out very angry, yes, but with nothing on my mind other than how I might protect her. I desperately hadn’t wanted Lorcan to get in touch with his mother and tell her that three Scintilla were Dr. M’s prisoners, so I’d called Saoirse and asked her to run interference in case Lorcan called. Maybe Saoirse had lied to her mother on my behalf. I never thought to ask. I had no idea how Ultana knew where Clancy had taken them.

  I was the dolt who called my uncle to meet me at the facility. It was my foolish mistake to think I had something on him and could leverage it to help Cora.

  My mother’s warning bothered me. I believed Saoirse to be sincere. And though my uncle had circumvented my sortilege, Saoirse had answered my questions with candor from the beginning. If she would be prevented from being completely transparent with me now, it would be her brother’s doing.

  So, how did Ultana end up at that tomb if Clancy was double-crossing her? The questions were enough to make me want to riffle through my uncle’s house, and so I said good-bye to my folks and left immediately.

  Clancy’s house was too far of a walk on our property from the main house. To drive around the property would be easier. I hoped that I might find something about that day, a paper trail or a clue that might give answers.

  Just stepping up to his front door, one could feel the air of gone. No one lives here anymore. Mum hadn’t had the heart yet to sort through Clancy’s effects. After his body was recovered from Newgrange, it had been whisked away by some white-coated governmental agency for examination and autopsy with all of the other bodies. Since then, his house had remained untouched.

  Inside the dark front room, I felt his loss for the first time. Not the loss of the heartless and cruel man I discovered him to be but the uncle I’d cherished as a boy. Clancy gave me my love of music. He fought my early battles alongside me as I yearned for more freedom. He trusted me with the pub. In a twisted way, I was grateful that he orchestrated my meeting Cora, though a part of me suspected our stars would have found a way to collide no matter what. Our fate was interwoven in a way I hoped to understand someday.

  I walked around aimlessly, seeing random memories. Then I got more serious about the reason I was there. Secrets of the dead might be less guarded, but that didn’t make them easier to find. Like his back office at the pub, his home was a bloody shambles. Papers were everywhere. Mail was stacked beneath magazines, or under pint glasses with brown crusted at their bases.

  His closet was heaped with laundry, but when I kicked a pile aside, I saw something familiar that hit me like a punch. Cora’s mother’s journal. I’d last seen it the day he’d carried her out of our library when I was high from her energy and clawing the air for her like a monster. I swallowed hard. Just thinking about it sped my pulse and sharpened my increasing need.

  I sat on the edge of the bed, remembering the sweeter part of that night. Her smell—that lovely scent of orange and a trace of vanilla, with warmth that was distinctively Cora. My throat tightened. Closing my eyes, I was sent back to a different night with her in California. We were in my car. My hands wound in her curls, my fingertips ran the ridge at the nape of her neck. My lips journeyed down the vanilla-scented trail of her collarbone. I remembered the soft sounds she made that drove me wild and how swiftly and madly I was falling.

  I missed her with an ache that felt like a bruise.

  With the thrill at finding the journal was the sick feeling of thinking of how Clancy had used it to find and lure Mami Tulke to Ireland and then abduct her. The only good thing I could say about my uncle at that moment was that he was greedy enough to want the Scintilla for himself. If he’d shared the information in this journal with Ultana, they’d probably all be dead.

  It would mean so much for Cora to have it back, and my new resolve was to deliver two things to Chile: her mother’s writing and the cover of the Book of Kells. I carried the journal with me back to the front room and tried to get on his computer, but it was password protected. I unplugged it and had someone in mind to help me get into it. I’d see if Clancy had any documents and emails stored that could be useful.

  When I lifted the laptop, I saw pieces of mail underneath.

  Most of the mail was rubbish but for a few utility bills. It occurred to me that the bill that would be the most illuminating would be his phone bill, and that was paid through the pub as a business expense—the pub that I now owned. I set the laptop and journal in the passenger’s seat and set off.

  Michael—we called him Tilt at school because he would screw with a piece of electronics until it fried—was an expert in computers. I dropped by his house and offered him two hundred euro if he’d bust through my uncle’s passwords. I gave him one hour, mostly so he wouldn’t have time to do any digging around. Tilt loved a challenge.

  From there, I went straight to Mulcarr’s Pub. The bartender, Rory, had kept the pub open since Clancy’s death. The regulars lifted their glasses in salute and gave me sympathetic looks when I walked through to the back office. A stack of mail had grown, waiting for me to deal with it. I shuffled through the envelopes until I found the cell bill and ripped it open.

  It didn’t shock me to see Ultana’s number. Clancy was in contact with her quite a lot, no surprise. There was a call from the Lennon’s home on—I checked my phone history—the day Lorcan and I went to Dr. M’s. Lorcan was with me, so it couldn’t have been him. Ultana must have called from her office. Strange, though, it was moments after I’d spoken to Saoirse and asked her to run interference for me.

  The sounds of the pub faded as I tried to run through the events of that day. Giovanni and I were arguing about who should run into the tomb when Ultana showed up. How had Ultana known Clancy was at the tomb with the Scintilla? The only person present that day who seemed connected to both Clancy and Ultana was that driver of hers. Was the man working both sides? If so, was he on his own, like a double-agent, or working for someone else entirely?

  I locked up the office and slapped money on the bar for Rory, promising to be back in soon, though he looked at me like he knew I was lying. I’m sure they were all wondering why I’d disappeared from the pub until now. With a halfhearted wink, I pushed through the door to go outside.

  From the corner of my eye, I spotted a dodgy black van a few cars back behind my car. For a moment I thought it might be Lorcan, but no one appeared to be inside. I got in my car and pulled into the after-work Dublin traffic, noticing that the van that moments ago appeared empty had pulled out in traffic behind me as well.

  Black vans and I had history. At the stoplight, I texted Saoirse: Where’s your brother?

  Saoirse: He said he was going to “tie up loose ends.” I have no idea what that means.

  The light turned green but an additional text came in as I drove: I have good news and bad. Dinner tonight?

  I made a quick turn and the van followed. I was in no mood for this shite. I slowed down to a near crawl to get a look at the driver in my rearview mirror, recognizing him immediately. It was the man who’d worked for Ultana and Clancy both. Just moments ago, I’d been wondering about him. I should have killed him at Newgrange instead of leaving him unconscious, but now I had questio
ns for him. A new one at the top of the list was who was having him follow me?

  I clenched my teeth, shaking with need for another life. I couldn’t keep putting it off if I hoped to get to Cora. A plan formulated as I drove. No longer would I dodge and weave this human bloke. If he wanted to follow me, it was at his own risk.

  Within minutes, I was in the quieter city section of Dublin, the location of Dr. M’s research facility. I didn’t know what I’d find inside. Giovanni, Dun, and the little girl, Claire, had flown from the building like they’d been chewed up and spit out of its doors. Dun had a bloody ax, and I assumed the blood came from bodies inside. Bodies that were likely still there.

  Let my stalker follow me. I had a message to send to whoever he worked for.

  When Saoirse had said to me that the biggest threat to Arrazi was being outed, I suddenly had a wicked notion how I could threaten the Arrazi everywhere. Mari’s rebellious voice rang in my head: Soon the world will know about you. I bet they lock every last one of you up when that happens.

  Proof.

  If I couldn’t bring them to my side, maybe I could bring them to their knees.

  I had the master key Ultana gave to Lorcan and me the day we first came to this facility and found the Scintilla being kept prisoner. What I was about to do was ugly but wicked genius and would provide me with more than just answers from the driver. It’d be a threat in my pocket against the Arrazi. I had a plan and a ravenous soul that needed feeding.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Giovanni

  Two emotions that shouldn’t go hand in hand: fear and peace. Yet they fused into a blend of agitation and excitement all day long after my text exchange with Cora earlier. Fear for her buzzed in my gut. Horrifying to be trapped on a plane with an Arrazi. If nothing happened to her, she should be getting close.

  The small peace I felt was for telling her that I loved her. What if it was our last communication? I was sickened by that thought, but at least she’d know that I loved her and that I hoped to love her beyond this day, beyond our current circumstances.