The Web (Fianna Trilogy Book 2)

by Megan Chance

  Him. Derry.

  I tried to be charitable. Who understood Lucy’s feelings better than I? Derry had used the lovespot on her to get close to Patrick and the Fenian Brotherhood, and her love for him hadn’t faded in the weeks since he’d abandoned her. He’d manipulated her as easily and as well as he’d manipulated me.

  How long did it take for such a spell to fade? More than three weeks? I was afraid of how Lucy’s longing lingered. I hated thinking I was the same. I’d always thought myself cleverer than Lucy, and yet here I was, dreaming of him. And not just innocent dreams, either, but ones that had me waking in the middle of the night, longing for a kiss that burned.

  “I know he’ll come for me,” Lucy declared. “I think my mother’s hiding his messages.”

  “He’s sent no messages, Lucy,” I said, as kindly as I could. She didn’t know the truth of him, of course, but still, she was being ridiculous. “He hasn’t written. He’s left you.”

  “No he hasn’t! Oh, how could you understand? You’ve never been in love like this. You don’t know how it feels to be separated—”

  “Lucy, he’s a gang boy. He’s killed people. He’s dangerous.”

  “Who told you that? Patrick?” Lucy’s eyes flashed. “He doesn’t want me to marry a stableboy, that’s all. Those are just lies he’s made up.”

  “Who’s been making up lies?” Patrick asked as he entered the room.

  Lucy only glared at her brother and marched into the garden.

  Patrick sighed. “Him again?”

  “Always.” I went to Patrick. It should have been easy to forget Derry. Patrick was so handsome, with his almost-blond hair and his gray-green eyes. And just now those eyes were so full of love for me that I let myself get lost in them.

  He grabbed my hands. When he kissed me, I felt a shiver of pleasure, along with a sense of safety, of possibility.

  He drew away. “Are you ready for tonight?”

  “I’m nervous,” I admitted.

  “Afraid they might eat you alive?”

  “Well, I’ve reason, don’t you think? What of Balor’s terrible eye, which could kill a man with a single look?”

  “Covered with an eye patch. And I haven’t seen him kill a man with it yet.”

  “What about the gnashing teeth in Lot’s breast?”

  “I haven’t seen that either. Though I confess I’ve only seen her fully gowned.”

  “Thank goodness for that.”

  “Jealous?” His eyes glowed. “I rather like that.”

  I felt myself redden. “Why shouldn’t I be? You’ve spent a great deal of time with her. And she’s very beautiful.”

  “I’ve eyes for only one beautiful girl.” He brushed his fingers down my cheek. “Should I kiss you again and show you?”

  I raised my face, he pulled me closer, and his kiss was less tender this time, more possessive, leaving me breathless when he drew away. “What I wouldn’t do to have you alone somewhere. Just the two of us. And soon.”

  “So impatient. You and my mother both. She asked me today to set a wedding date.”

  Patrick frowned. I knew what he was thinking. What was the point in a wedding I might not be alive to take part in? “I would like nothing more. But—”

  “I understand,” I told him quickly, not wanting to hear the words.

  “You know what—let’s do it! Let’s set a date.”

  “But Patrick—”

  “That’s how certain I am that we’ll find a way to save you, Grace. You’ll still be here after October thirty-first. I believe it.”

  “Perhaps I’m not the veleda. Mama said I’m not.”

  “She did?”

  “She overheard me talking to my grandmother. And she’s heard the stories all her life too. But she says it’s all superstition.”

  “It’s not just me and the Fomori who believe it. The Fianna do too.”

  “Their Seer is a sideshow fortune-teller. What can he possibly know? What real reason do we have to think I’m the veleda? It’s Aidan who has power, not me.”

  Patrick glanced out the French doors to where Lucy meandered among the roses. “You’re certain that before that night you never had a hint of what Aidan could do?”

  “I told you. The only thing I remember is that he said he saw Derry glowing.”

  “The same way you did.”

  “Yes. But I’m not shooting lightning from my fingertips.”

  “I don’t like it,” Patrick said, not for the first time. “I’ve men searching everywhere, and no one’s seen a trace of Aidan. I’ve had them in every gambling hell and every saloon—”

  “You’d best try the opium dens too.”

  “I have. There’s no sign of him. No one’s seen him in weeks.”

  “Patrick, I’m afraid something terrible’s happened to him.”

  Patrick cupped my chin. His thumb brushed my lips, sending an ache through me, one I was glad to feel. I hoped it meant the other feeling was fading. “Nothing’s happened to him, Grace.”

  “You can’t promise that.”

  “But I can promise that I’ll do whatever I can to help him. To help your whole family. You must know I’d do anything for you.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I heard about the doctor’s suit, by the way. You should have said something.”

  It was a relief to change the subject, even to this. “I only found out today.”

  “I don’t want you to worry. I’ve already talked to my lawyer.”

  I was both happy and troubled. My family expected so much of Patrick, and it made me feel guilty too; he was so kind and yet I could not stop thinking of a boy who’d branded me with a kiss, who haunted my dreams. I hated Derry for that. I hated that he was in the way of something real.

  I would not be controlled by some spell. Not when true love was staring me in the face. I twisted my hands in Patrick’s hair, bringing him down to kiss. I heard his little gasp, and then he was kissing me back, and I waited for the shiver to take me over, to become something more—

  “It’s not fair! You get to kiss her whenever you want, and I can’t even see Derry!”

  I sprang away, but Patrick wouldn’t let me go far. He took my arm as he turned to his sister, who stood in the doorway glaring at both of us.

  “My fiancée,” he said coldly. “Not some inappropriate immigrant gang boy.”

  “So it’s only the Irish in Ireland you care about?”

  “He stole from me, Lucy. And when I dismissed him, he left without complaint. He used you.”

  “He loved me, and you frightened him away! But he’ll come back for me. I know he will.”

  The knock on the front door silenced her. “They’re here.” Patrick looked at his sister. “None of this nonsense in front of them, Lucy. You’ll only look the fool.”

  “Oh never fear, I’ll behave for your precious Fenians. All hail Ireland!” She flounced away.

  I was suddenly nervous again. Patrick squeezed my arm reassuringly and winked, and I felt immediately better. It was hard to imagine that Balor of the terrible eye or Miogach, Lochlann’s son, could do any damage in a parlor in the middle of Manhattan. Once more, the whole thing felt so unreal.

  And when they came into the parlor, I was more convinced. The Fomori were elegantly dressed. Tethra, the Fomorian god of the sea, had cut his long, twisted locks into a more fashionable style, though his mustache was still huge and curling over his full lips. Balor was the tallest man I’d ever seen, and while his face was craggy and intimidating—his eye patch only adding to the effect—he looked more like a rugged explorer who’d just returned from Africa or the North Pole than a deadly god. Bres, their leader, the supposedly cruel Irish king, was fair and handsome. Daire Donn, who called himself the King of the World, was simply one of the warmest and most charming men I
’d ever met. Lot was stunning in a blue gown that made her eyes look even more purple.

  The only one who gave me pause was Miogach. He was thin, with dark hair and a sharp gray gaze, and I had to remind myself of what my grandmother had always said, that Miogach’s hatred of the Fianna was well-founded. Still, his voice raised gooseflesh on my arms when he said, “So this is the veleda.”

  But when we went to the dining room and took our seats, Miogach sat beside me. He gave me a mischievous smile that was so at odds with what I thought I knew of him that I was taken aback.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Nothing. You surprised me, that’s all. The stories—”

  “What stories? Has Finn been telling tales of me? Has he made me a monster before I have the chance to defend myself?” His grin broadened. “You know, we were friends once. Finn was like a father. Diarmid taught me to play chess. Keenan was my sparring partner. We shared many a good time. But now I suppose they’ve told you that I betrayed them.”

  “They never told me that,” I said. “But the old stories say it.”

  “I see. And who wrote those?” he asked. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear. ’Tis true we were at odds, but . . . perhaps sometime I’ll tell you my side of the story.”

  “I’d like that,” I said, and it was true. I did want to know his version.

  “I must confess you’re not as I expected either. You remind me of someone I used to know.”

  “Neasa?” I asked. Finn and Derry had both told me I resembled the Druid priestess who was my ancestor.

  “You know of her?”

  “I’ve been told I’m like her. Though I was also told she had great power, and I’m afraid that part managed to elude me.” I flicked my fingers at him. “Not even a spark from these fingertips.”

  “What? No hope of setting your enemies afire? How tragic.”

  I laughed. “I suppose I’ll have to settle for glaring them to death.”

  He laughed with me, and for a moment I forgot that this was the same Miogach who’d betrayed Finn and imprisoned him. I was caught by his friendliness. The same way Finn once was.

  The thought made me pause just as Daire Donn said, “’Twas a terrible thing you had to witness the other night, Miss Knox. A bad fight. Those gangs must be attended to. Now that Balor and Miogach have taken jobs with the police, we can begin to rid the city of them.”

  He glanced at Lucy and Mrs. Devlin, who had no idea who his companions really were, and I heard the message beneath his words: they were looking for the Fianna, and they were determined to keep me safe.

  Miogach sobered, and the talk at the table quieted. Bres’s chiseled jaw tightened. His voice was commanding as he said, “We plan to start by pursuing the most dangerous. Those who spend their days riling up the others.”

  “I wish they understood that rabble-rousing only makes things worse,” said Patrick’s mother. “I know the city’s cut off aid for the poor and times are hard, but why can’t they get jobs like decent men?”

  “Jobs are hard to come by now, Mama,” Patrick said.

  “Our hope is that we can convince some gangs to make peace. Then the others would follow,” said Bres.

  “To do that, we must first roust out those who have their minds set on war.” Balor’s one eye lit as if he relished the idea.

  “Well, I must admit it’s reassuring to see someone determined to mend things,” Mrs. Devlin said. “The city’s so dangerous lately. And to know the gangs were so far north, in poor Grace’s very backyard! Why, it’s quite alarming.”

  “Oh yes, indeed.” Lot took a portion of fish from the hovering servant with a smooth poise that I envied. “But I believe we’ll have reason for celebration quite soon, Mrs. Devlin.”

  “Oh?”

  Bres explained, “The worst of the gangs will be in police custody before the end of next week, I promise you. Finn’s Warriors—who began the fracas in your yard, Miss Knox. I hope that sets your mind at ease.”

  Finn’s Warriors. The Fianna’s gang name.

  I glanced at Patrick, who shook his head in warning. So there was a plan in place to arrest them. They could not come after me if they were in jail. He could not come after me. I wondered why Patrick had said nothing of it earlier. My appetite withered.

  “Really?” I tried to keep my tone light. “I didn’t know.”

  “There was no reason for you to know,” Patrick said with a smile. “I told you we were doing everything we could to ensure your safety.”

  “Her safety?” Lucy paused with her fork in midair. “Finn’s Warriors—is that Derry’s gang?”

  “They’ve been rampaging and killing for months now,” Bres said. “We’ll have them behind bars quickly. And hanged quickly as well.”

  Lucy paled. “If you’ll excuse me . . . I’m feeling ill.” She left the room in a rush.

  Mrs. Devlin said, “Oh dear. I should see to her. Please continue; enjoy your dinner.”

  When they were both gone, Patrick said, “I must apologize for my sister. The lovespot has affected her badly.”

  “’Tis a pity to see such a pretty lass so sad,” Miogach said. “But soon she’ll be herself again.”

  I asked, “Is that how it works? I’ve never heard what happened to girls when he was done with them. Does the spell just . . . go away?”

  Too late, I heard the intensity in my voice. I couldn’t look at Patrick.

  Miogach said, “Why, Miss Knox, ’tis like all love. In absence, it fades.”

  “’Twould depend on how much in love she was,” Daire Donn added as he sipped his wine. His brown eyes were dark with compassion. “Was she under his spell for days or weeks? Months or years?”

  “A few months only,” Patrick said, and I felt his gaze on me. “Perhaps less.”

  I made myself meet his eyes. I thought I saw suspicion there—or was it only concern? In my guilt, I couldn’t tell the difference. “I feel sorry for Lucy. It wasn’t her fault,” I said.

  “No, but she’s always been a fool when it comes to love. He was obviously not for her.”

  Lot said, “Ah, but Diarmid has his charms.” She smiled as if in memory, and I felt a hot surge of jealousy. “I always felt the ball seirce was unnecessary. What he could do with touch alone . . .”

  It’s only a spell. You don’t really feel this way.

  “You sound as if you had dealings with him,” said Patrick.

  Bres and Tethra laughed.

  Lot’s smile was thin. “Only observation, good sir. Only that.”

  “Not that she didn’t wish otherwise a time or two,” said Daire Donn with a grin.

  I do not care. I chose Patrick.

  “It won’t help him much behind bars,” Bres chuckled. “Once the Fianna are put away, we can concentrate on finding a Druid who can help us. Unfortunately, it cannot be just any Druid. We need an archdruid, which may be hard to find. They are not just of the highest Druid rank, they also hold the most knowledge and power. If anyone knows how to circumvent a Druid spell, ’twill be an archdruid.”

  “Aye,” Lot agreed. “The sidhe are beginning to gather. Every day we’ve seen more of them about. They’ll help us.”

  An echo of my grandmother’s words. “You mean . . . there are fairies here? How could they help?”

  “They’re drawn to Druid power,” she said. “They’ll be drawn to you as well, my dear. You should be very careful.”

  “She’ll have guards around her every moment,” Patrick assured us.

  “But . . . you’re saying they could lead us to the archdruid?”

  “Not you, Grace,” said Patrick. “The rest of us. You won’t be near them.”

  “They are very dangerous, to you especially,” warned Daire Donn. “But never fear, Miss Knox, we are committed to finding him.”

  “
And to finding the spell to save you,” Patrick said softly.

  Bres nodded. “You are our main concern, milady. Trust me when I say we will do all we can to save you. We are united in this, are we not?”

  The others made noises of agreement. They all looked sincere.

  Miogach’s gray eyes were so warm it was difficult to remember that I’d ever found them sharp. “’Tis our most ardent task, Miss Knox. I promise we will not fail.”

  I had expected monsters, and instead I’d found something so different that I didn’t know what to believe.

  But the old stories would not leave my head. The same stories Patrick knows. He would not be easily fooled. Patrick truly loved me, and he would not put his faith in them if he had even a moment of doubt. They would protect me whether I was the veleda or not. I had to trust that the choice I’d made that terrible night was the right one.

  July 19

  Diarmid

  This way.” Diarmid dodged the stick before he twisted it from young Will’s hands and brought the end around, slamming it into Will’s back, sending the boy sprawling.

  Will gasped, “How’d you do that?”

  Diarmid helped the boy to his feet. “That was hardly a blow. If you do it right, you can break a man’s back. Or your own, if you do it wrong.”

  “Show me again,” Will demanded.

  Diarmid obliged. All around them were the sounds of fighting as he and the other Fianna put their fledgling militia through their paces. The tenement yard was hazy with the dust they raised, and full nearly to bursting—since the city had stopped giving relief to the poor, more and more were joining their ranks every day. They were all hungry and angry. Finn promised riots and protests. He promised they would have what they deserved.

  But it wasn’t really bread and work he was promising. The Fianna needed an army to fight the Fomori. If the gang boys joining their cause thought they were fighting the government, so much the better. Who knew if, in the end, the two things wouldn’t be one and the same? Some of the most important men in the city belonged to the Fenian Brotherhood. In the short time the Fomori had been in the city, they had taken jobs in the police force and in city government. They’d already infiltrated the rich and powerful.