by Megan Chance
It’s only a story, Grace. There is no veleda.
I jumped at a knock on my door. The maid called, “Miss Knox, you have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” I felt a leap of hope, and then dismay when I realized whom I’d been hoping for. It’s just a spell.
“Miss Fitzgerald, ma’am.”
I hadn’t seen my best friend, Rose, since I’d come to stay with Patrick. She’d been out of town with her parents, who traveled constantly. I hurried down the stairs to the parlor. “You’re back!”
“Two days ago. I tell you, I’m beginning to loathe Boston. I told Papa I didn’t care if I ever set foot there again. It’s so awfully straitlaced. I could hardly move without Grandmama reminding me about some rule or another.” Rose’s red hair was flawlessly curled in ringlets beneath a tiny hat festooned with purple and blue flowers. She looked demure and sweet, but I knew better. Rose was neither. “I went to your house and your mother said you were staying here—I can’t believe it! Why, what will people say?”
I hugged her and grinned. “It’s all very proper. Mrs. Devlin and Lucy make certain Patrick and I are rarely alone.”
“And you’re engaged? Really and truly?”
“Mama told you! I wanted to tell you myself.”
“Well, how can you blame her? She’s so pleased.”
“All her dreams come true,” I said.
“Yours, too, I hope.”
“Of course.”
“Because I’ve wondered, you know, about Derry—”
“Derry’s gone. Patrick dismissed him and it was all quite terrible. It’s why I’m here. Patrick was afraid Derry would . . . trouble me.”
Rose frowned. “Trouble you? Why would he? Oh, Grace, don’t tell me you haven’t put him aside.”
“Of course I have! And keep your voice down.”
“You didn’t tell Patrick that Derry kissed you?”
“I’m not a fool.”
“Good.” She didn’t seem convinced. “Lucy must be beside herself that he’s gone.”
“That would be an understatement. I hope you’ve time to stay for tea.”
“Actually, I’ve come for another reason.” She reached into her pocket, pulling out a piece of paper. “I’ve promised to give it to you when you’re alone.”
As I looked at the paper, I went cold. A folded advertisement much like the one I’d received before, when Derry had written to ask me to meet him in Battery Park. “Who is this from? Why do you have it?”
“Just open it, Grace.”
I did, nervously, but the moment I saw the writing, my nervousness turned to sheer relief. This wasn’t from Derry. It was from Aidan.
Grace,
I’ve sent this with Rose and asked her to keep it secret, because I don’t want Mama or the Devlins to know where I am, at least for now. But I need to see you. Please meet me today. I’ll be at Fulton Market at three o’clock on the ferry side. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going or that you’re meeting me. Please. I’ll explain everything but you must keep this secret.
A
“He’s all right,” I said, unable to hide my joy. “Oh thank God. He’s all right.”
“I don’t know about that,” Rose said. “He hardly looked himself, Grace, and he frightened me half to death lurking in my garden. He seemed odd. I think you’re right to worry about him. What does he want?”
“Nothing. Just to tell me he’s fine.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “He most assuredly is not fine. I just told you that. He’s scheming, isn’t he? And he’s told you not to say anything—even to me? That’s not fair. He trusted me to bring you the note.”
I was not good at keeping things from Rose, and we had always shared secrets. And most importantly, she had a carriage waiting out front, which I needed. “Oh, very well. I suppose it’s all right, and I don’t know how he expects me to meet him without your help.”
“He wants you to meet him?”
“You can’t tell a soul, Rose.”
“No, no, I won’t. Where?”
“Fulton Market at three.”
Rose had never disappointed me, and she didn’t now. She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “There’s not much time then. We’ll take my carriage.”
“The guard—”
“Yes, I meant to ask you about that.”
“Patrick says the city’s dangerous, what with the labor strikes and poor riots. He’s asked me to go nowhere without a chaperone.”
“You have one. Me.”
“Somehow I doubt that’s what Patrick meant.”
Rose’s smile was wry. “He didn’t say not Rose, did he?”
“No, but—”
“Then you’re not disobeying him. You’re not going unchaperoned, so he can’t be angry if he finds out. Besides, I am very good at sneaking out.”
I laughed. “Which is why I’m sure he would have said not Rose if he’d thought about it.”
Rose tilted her head like a bird. “What we need is some distraction. If we could just get you to the carriage unseen . . .”
“How do you propose we do that?”
“A little flirtation, perhaps.”
“Flirtation?”
“You should have seen the way the guard looked at me when I came up to the door.” Her eyes twinkled. “I’ll draw his attention, and you sneak out and get into the carriage. No one will ever know you’re gone.”
I still had my doubts, but I could think of nothing better. We went to the door, and Rose said gaily to me as she walked out, “I’ll visit you again later in the week!” Truly, she’d missed her calling. She’d been made for the stage.
The front door closed. I waited, hovering, keeping my eye out for any curious maids. I heard Rose talking on the other side, the guard’s rough-voiced replies. The guard laughed and moved away from the door, and I saw their shadows through the rippled glass of the little window, moving down the stairs, out of sight.
Carefully, I cracked open the door. I heard her voice around the corner, saying, “No, no, that flower there—look closer, the pink one! Oh, I have such a fondness for flowers.”
Rose and the guard were bent over Mrs. Devlin’s pinks, their backs to me. I hurried down the stairs, past the cast-iron railing and the yew border. I went to the far side of the carriage and climbed in. Then I huddled in the corner, restraining the urge to look out the window, my heart racing.
After a few moments, Rose stepped inside, waving to my guard, a flat-nosed man who was watching her longingly as he limped up the walk after her. The legends were true when it came to the Fomori warriors—they were all deformed in some way.
Was everything else true as well?
Rose said, “Perhaps you’ll be on duty next Wednesday, Gerard? Oh, I do hope so,” before she called to her driver, “Fulton Market, Sam.”
“I cannot believe that worked,” I said.
Rose giggled. “Well, you’ve always doubted my charms. But I’ll confess I really don’t like him. He has a squashed nose.”
“I appreciate your sacrifice.”
Before long we were at the market. I thought of how worried Patrick would be if he returned early to find me gone, but I expected to be back in time. My brother was the most important thing. Patrick would understand.
It was late in the day for shoppers; the merchants were packing away their wares in ice and wicker baskets, though the oyster saloons and restaurants that ran down both sides of the street were doing a booming business. Fulton Fish Market oysters were famous the world over.
The driver opened the door, and Rose and I stepped out into the strong smells of fish and the river, oil and smoke from the ferry station behind. Rose wrinkled her nose as she lifted her skirts to avoid a puddle of blood and fish parts. “Ugh. I’d like to kill Aidan. Why not a nice decent park?”
We rounded the corner to the Brooklyn ferry station, and I searched anxiously for my brother.
He was nowhere. No one even looked like him, tall and lanky, with curling dark hair and skin pale from drink and too many nights in gambling hells. The clock above the ferry station read three o’clock exactly. “Where is he?” I murmured.
“Oh! There!”
I looked to where Rose pointed, and saw Aidan emerge from behind one of the iron pillars supporting the market roof. My brother—looking not as I’d last seen him, with his hair flying eerily around his face and his eyes a shimmering, hot blue—but disheveled, needing a haircut and wearing no hat, his face streaked with dirt, his coat wrinkled and stained. No different than usual, despite Rose’s warning that he was not himself.
I ran to him, throwing myself into his arms so he stumbled. He hugged me, laughing lightly in my ear. “That’s quite a greeting, Gracie. Miss me much?”
“I’ve been so worried! I didn’t know—my, you smell of smoke.”
“I got caught in a bit of a fire last night.”
I stepped back. “Where was there a fire? Where have you been?”
He glanced away, and suddenly I didn’t want to hear some flippant remark about saloons or hard floors or sleeping in the ashes of a hearth somewhere.
“Never mind. I’m just so glad to see you. We’ve all been beside ourselves.” I lowered my voice, though there was no one around to hear. “I have so many questions, Aidan. About . . . what you did that night.”
Aidan squirmed. “Listen, Grace, this is important. Just know . . . when you think I’ve betrayed you, please know that I haven’t. I never would—ah, Rose. Couldn’t resist tagging along, could you?”
Rose stepped up. “I couldn’t let Grace come all this way alone. Really, Aidan, you should have picked somewhere easier to meet. Like . . . I don’t know . . . Borneo.”
I wished I hadn’t brought Rose after all. I wanted answers, and I knew my brother would reveal nothing while she was here, just as I wouldn’t.
As if he knew what I was thinking, Aidan said, “We’ve a great deal to talk about, but I don’t want to do it here.”
“Where then? I’m staying with Patrick now. You could come there. He has men searching everywhere for you. He’ll be so relieved to know you’re all right.”
“Not there. I thought . . . Come for a ferry ride with me. Can you? Just a ride to Brooklyn and back. We’ll be alone. We can talk. You needn’t wait for her, Rose. I’ll see she gets to Patrick in one piece.”
Rose warned, “You wouldn’t be back before supper, Grace.”
Which meant I wouldn’t be back before Patrick. I knew Patrick would be angry that I’d ignored his orders, but I needed answers so desperately. And Aidan was no danger to me. “Why the ferry? We could walk somewhere quiet—”
“I was just thinking about all those steamer trips we took upriver on the Fourth of July. D’you remember? It’ll be like old times.” Aidan smiled that charming smile I loved.
It was sweet and sentimental, and it decided me. “Yes. Like old times. Let’s do it.”
Aidan said, “Come on. Let’s buy the tickets.”
“I hope you don’t get into too much trouble for this,” Rose said to me, giving my brother a dark look.
Together we walked through the large open doors of the station. The ferry was loading, wagons thudding over the ramp, people getting on. Aidan bought our tickets and said to me, “Go on and board. I’ll take Rose back to her carriage.”
“I’ll go with you—”
“It’s loading now, and you can’t run in a corset and skirts. Get on and I’ll run back.”
“Please don’t miss it, Aidan.”
“I won’t. I’ll meet you in the front salon.”
He handed me my ticket, and I boarded the ferry. The boat was crowded with people returning home from offices and markets. I went to the railing overlooking the wharf to watch Aidan run back.
But he wasn’t running back. He was standing on the street, talking to Rose.
I shouted, “Aidan! Hurry!”
Just then the ferry whistle blew, the signal for departure, piercingly loud. He turned to look, and Rose did too. I heard the huge churning side-wheel creak and thud. I felt the lurch as the boat began to move away from the dock. I saw the expression on my brother’s face—not regret or panic, but an I’m-doing-this-for-your-own-good look. He mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
And then, from behind me:
“Hello, lass.”
The voice that had haunted my every dream.
That afternoon
Grace
Now I understood my brother’s words: “When you think I’ve betrayed you, please know that I haven’t.” Oh, but he had. He had. Damn him.
I whirled to face Derry—Diarmid, I reminded myself.
He was beautiful, as always. As if he’d stepped from my dream. Dark hair nearly hiding his deep blue eyes. Hiding the lovespot. He smiled so that the long dimple creased his cheek.
“’Tis good to see you, Grace,” he said.
In his deep voice, my name sounded like a caress. No. No. It’s all a lie. He’ll seduce you and then he’ll kill you. He has to. I rushed past him, shoving out of the way some man who said, “Hey, miss!” Where I meant to go I didn’t know. Just away. Away from him, from that smile and the way I felt and everything I knew about him.
Derry caught my arm, and his touch sang through me. I stumbled.
“Leave me alone!” I said desperately. “I chose Patrick, or don’t you remember? I’m engaged.”
“I just want—”
“I know what you want!” To seduce me. To kill me. “But I’m done with you. I told you that.”
“Just let me talk to you.”
“We’ve already talked. I don’t care what else you have to say.” I wrenched away. “If I’d known this was what Aidan meant to do—”
“He’s joined with us. He believes in us.”
I stopped short. “Aidan’s joined with you?”
“Aye. Not with the Fomori. With us.” He glanced around. “Come with me away from the crowd—”
“I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”
“Grace, please.” He wrapped his fingers around my wrist. Again that singing touch. I nodded slowly, and he led me to a wooden bench outside the salon. There was a little boy sitting there, but at one look from Derry, he fled.
Derry pulled me onto the bench beside him. I yanked my arm from his hold, rubbing my wrists as if I could rub away the feel of him. He watched me with a contemplative look that reminded me of the last time I’d seen him, standing in the halo of a streetlamp. He was the most dangerous thing I knew. The next time I saw Aidan, I would kill him for this.
“Well, I’m here, thanks to another of your tricks,” I said. “So go ahead—tell me why you felt the need to trick me again.”
He didn’t answer. I heard the thump-splash-thump of the side-wheel, people talking as they walked along the deck, someone playing a violin in the salon. Derry clasped his hands between his knees and looked at the ground, his hair shielding his face, his shirt gaping open at the collar to reveal his throat, the start of his collarbone.
I tore my gaze away. “Well?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But you wouldn’t have come if I’d just asked.”
“How would you know, given that you’ve never tried anything so honest?”
“Would you have?”
“No.”
“You see?” His mouth quirked in a small smile. “If I could predict the future as well as I can predict you, I’d be a rich man.”
“Keep boasting. The gods love that sort of thing. Maybe they’ll reward you by turning you into a goat.”
He laughed—it was warm and real. “I’ve missed that sharp tongue of yours.”
/>
I tried to hide how much I liked his words, and his laughter. I tried not to think that I’d missed him too. “Tell me why I should trust you now, after what you’ve done?”
His good humor died abruptly. “You think Patrick hasn’t done his share of lying? He needs you to choose the Fomori. Perhaps your whole engagement—”
“Patrick loves me.”
“Does he?”
I started to rise. “I’m not going to listen to this.”
He reached for me. When I lurched away, he drew his hand back. “Please, Grace—please. I’m sorry. Sit down. I just . . . I just want you to hear our side, that’s all.”
The door to the salon opened; the thready violin music grew louder for a moment before the door closed again. I looked at the receding city. We had the journey to Brooklyn before us, and then there would be the long ride back. I would not be able to escape him on this boat, unless I was willing to throw myself over the side. But the water was cold; I wasn’t a good swimmer and escape by drowning seemed a bit extreme, so I sat again. “Very well. You’ve got until this boat returns to the city. But before you start with all your ‘the Fomori are evil’ stories, I want to tell you I’ve met them. They’re not the monsters you say they are. They seem charming and sincere.”
“You said Finn was charming too. You said all of the Fianna were. All of them but me. Yet you were afraid of Finn that night, and now you’ve seen us in a fight. Do you still think we’re charming?”
“I think you’re ruthless.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “So don’t you think the Fomori could be just as ruthless? They’ve been our enemies a long time, Grace; why do you think we hate them so? You know the stories already. They’re hiding their true natures so you choose them.”
“Patrick knows those stories, too, and he believes they’re exaggerations.”
“He’s blinded by his own ambition.”
“He wants only to help Ireland—”
“And instead he’ll condemn it to evil.”