by Nikki Kelly
“Lovely.”
Gabriel began to sweep up the broken glass. “This is where his clan is based. It was only a matter of time before he saw me.”
“So why did you come here? Why take the risk?”
“You,” he said. “The fixed gateway opens out here, so without a crystal to command a rift, this is the only spot in the world you could have potentially jumped dimension and ended up.” Gabriel swept the broken splinters away from my feet.
“Gabriel, stop,” I said, reaching for him. “Why not pick another town nearby? Why not hide?” It was as though I was pleading, as if three years hadn’t passed and I might persuade him to reconsider his decisions.
Gabriel’s shoulders hunched, as though he was only now realizing the answer. “Iona?” he said, a question for himself.
“Yes?” Iona’s voice was unsure as she approached the doorway. Ruadhan trailed behind her, keeping watch. Seeing Gabriel wielding a cleaning implement seemed to get a stronger reaction out of Iona than the way her kin wielded their weapons of silver. “Oh, no, I’ll do that!” Iona’s polka-dot dress caught between her legs, sticking to her knitted tights as she rushed over. It still amazed me in this modern time that Iona was so traditional in her ways, so much so that she wouldn’t even let Gabriel clean up a floor. Gabriel was nothing but chivalrous, so I was sure the only reason he was letting her take the broom was because he knew it would make her feel uncomfortable if he didn’t.
I found it awkward watching Iona play such an out-of-date role, so I stepped in. “Why don’t you let me—” I gestured for Gabriel and Iona to stand in the garden. Though my right eye was tired, I was able to identify each fragment of glass littering the tiles. I bent my head toward the floor and blew a steady but powerful stream of air. The broken bits levitated to eye level.
I created a galaxy.
I willed the pieces to spin like planets in a solar system. Round and round they twirled, gaining momentum. The golden glow from the ceiling light acted as the sun, causing a blinding gleam to bounce off the clear shards. I clapped my hands together, and my galaxy folded in on itself, the glass pulverizing back to silt. Like in an hourglass, the sand poured from the top down, collecting into a pile on the floor.
Just as a satisfied smile crossed my face, Iona appeared, her mouth open in wonder at what she must have witnessed. “Might need a dustpan,” I said. “A big one.”
Ruadhan remained in the garden with Gabriel, giving me time alone with Iona. While I couldn’t rush Gabriel to face his feelings, I worried he would take too long to realize what I had—that he should be with Iona and that she would save him. Maybe the best way to get to Gabriel was through her.
Iona came inside, and as she swept, I whizzed around the room, cleaning up the mess from the demon’s attack. “Where is everyone?” I asked.
“Out on patrol, the lot of ’em. The sun’s setting. They’ll be back soon.”
I’d arrived back half an hour ago, but as yet Jonah hadn’t made an appearance. At least he’d not shown up here at the house. I couldn’t sense him, so he couldn’t be injured or in trouble. “When you were with Ruadhan just now, you didn’t happen to see Jonah, did you?”
Iona nodded as she opened a garbage bag.
“Aye, saw him walking to the motor home,” she said, filling the black bag. Its weight clearly heavy, I took it from her and slung it out of her way. “Thank you,” she said.
I then collected the pack of playing cards. “You were playing with Gabriel when the Vampire broke in?”
“Um-hum.”
“We used to play chess,” I mused. “Did Gabriel finish teaching you?” He’d been giving Iona a lesson at the Henley house. I remember how upset I’d been to see him smiling at her across the board that he’d once gifted to me.
“Nay,” she said. “He brought the set with him, but he keeps it under a floorboard. Said it’s superspecial, it’s not really for playing with, like.”
“It was a gift he gave me, a long, long time ago.” I smiled, shuffling the cards and then placing them down. “I’d like you to have it.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t—”
“Please. Gabriel’s a good teacher. I’m sure it’ll make for some wonderful memories.” Whereas I couldn’t before, now I could let go of it, and somehow that brought me great relief.
I stacked the one-cent pieces into towers on the counter before Iona knew what was happening. “You were betting?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Not for anything serious. But makes for a better game. My family’s always done. But could be with anything—pennies, sometimes matchsticks, whatever’s knocking about.”
“Matchsticks?” I repeated.
“Aye.”
The worn deck belonging to Brooke’s invisible friend had also been accompanied by a pack of matches. Absentmindedly, I began to fiddle with the cards, and flicking the corners, I noted another detail. “Huh,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing, must just be an Irish thing.”
“What must?”
I offered her the perfectly sorted deck. “There’s fifty-four cards in your pack, which means you play with the jokers. In the pubs where I worked, we always removed them.”
Iona laughed softly. “He made us use ’em as wild cards, no matter the game.” I stared at her, puzzled. “It’s not an Irish thing.” She looked up to the heavens, then back at me, before finishing that sentence. “It was a—”
* * *
I RACED TOWARD LITTLE BLUE, almost knocking over the first batch of Sealgaire troops returning from duty in my haste to find Brooke. Swinging the door open, I barged into the small living area where she sat with her legs up on the sofa, magazine in hand.
“Lailah!” she said, springing to her feet.
“Don’t ‘Lailah’ me. You heard me coming.”
“Jeez, what’s eating you? Chill your boots, why don’t you,” she said, cool as milk.
I pinched the spine of her fashion magazine and held it in the air. Turning it over, I handed it back, and said, “Difficult to read upside down, even for the likes of us.”
Her jaw unhinged. I began to roam the Winnebago, and she zoomed to the table, trying to snatch a roll-up and a pack of Rizla. I caught her wrist midgrab. “Since when do you smoke?”
She hesitated and I thought she was considering coming clean, but then she pushed me away. “You’ve been gone awhile. Stuff changes, people change.”
“Really?” I said with sarcasm. “Just yesterday you told Phelan off for lighting up in the motor home.”
Her mouth snapped shut. “I don’t have to answer you.”
“No, you don’t, but I’d like you to.”
I wanted her to be the one to say it, not me, and so I waited.
Finally, with a scowl, she said, “You’ve destroyed my masterpiece, I see.”
Clearly, I’d be waiting a long time.
“I think it’s probably more wearable without the add-ons.”
She huffed. “If it’s easy, it’s not fashion.”
We continued to stare each other down in stone-cold silence, until finally I said, “Bring him out, Brooke.”
Her gaze fell to the floor. “Who?”
“The joker in your pack.”
To my right, the linen curtain twitched. The second he stepped out, Brooke started, “Lailah, it’s complicated, it’s just … it’s a—”
I finished both Iona’s and Brooke’s sentences. “A Fergal thing.” I turned to him. “Yeah, I know.”
NINETEEN
JUST WHEN I THOUGHT that nothing could surprise me … “You’re a Vampire?” I said.
I was expecting Fergal but not quite like this.
Fergal unfastened his navy gilet and played with the zipper. “Aye.”
I had once thought Angels and demons to be the very antithesis of one another. Of course, I knew better than that now. The Purebloods had once been Arch Angels, and the scavengers were once fallen Angel Descendants, beings made from ligh
t who had later been changed by a dreadful darkness. Fergal had been born to a fallen Angel, making him Of Elfi, and so his features had always appeared Angelic. And now, though he’d somehow been infected with venom, his looks didn’t differ all that much. His skin remained fair, his ruffled hair still white blond, but where his gray-blue eyes had once been calm and inviting, now they glowed red in warning.
“How did this happen?” I didn’t trust Fergal and so I kept my focus fixed on him.
“I changed him,” Brooke answered abruptly.
“Not possible. You’re a Third Generation, you shouldn’t be able to turn humans into Vampires.” I scanned Fergal, checking that he wasn’t carrying anything he shouldn’t be.
“Yeah, and Jonah’s a Second Generation. He shouldn’t have been able to turn me into one, either,” she reminded me, with a lick of sarcasm.
I took a deep breath, my mind whirling. “Even if I believed you, Fergal here made some bad choices, and because of them, his soul was dark when Padraig attacked him. Only light souls can be changed, Brooke.”
Fergal shifted his weight ever so slightly and I threw up my hand, looping stringy white light around my fingers like thread. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, you won’t be around to have a crack at the hat trick. Am I making myself clear? Keep your distance,” I warned, and as he drifted toward Brooke, I added, “From her, too.”
Brooke flailed dramatically. “Ugh! Do you gotta be so freakin’ rude? He’s sorry, all right? Tell her, Fergal.”
Sensibly, he edged away from me. “Padraig was my brother, and he was my best friend, but what I did was wrong. It’s for the Lord to decide who lives and who dies, not me. I am sorry, Lailah.” Fergal’s pitch was even, and his stare never wavered from meeting mine.
“See,” Brooke sneered.
“Right, and did the Lord decide to turn you into a demon? Because I thought it was little Miss Thing here.”
“He moves in mysterious ways.…” Brooke tipped her chin to Fergal, and he nodded back as though she had given the exact right answer.
I huffed, but however ridiculous it was, Brooke actually believed what she was saying. “Why would the Lord give Fergal another shot at life by having you turn him into a demon, which, let’s face it, is kind of a dressed-up version of being dead?” I asked. Brooke wriggled her nose, thinking. When she didn’t reply, I continued, “If he was seen by Phelan, by the Sealgaire, it would completely undermine their faith. They don’t believe Vampires were ever human.” I paused, then added, “Not sure your Lord has entirely thought this through.”
Though Brooke was still searching, she didn’t have a comeback. Fergal, however, always did. “It might seem unclear now, but the Lord has a purpose for me.”
More talk of purpose and of meaning, but I knew things about the dimensions that the Sealgaire and even Ruadhan and Brooke didn’t. But as Darwin had once suggested, the universe was infinite. It was conceivable that there was something greater going on beyond even what I knew. And, inwardly, I couldn’t ignore that I was starting to believe in signs. Maybe there was a higher being redrafting an ever-expanding design, but for what end I doubted any of us would ever know. The Sealgaire—men of the Christian faith—called him “Lord,” and Darwin—a man of science—referred to him as “the man wearing the jacket.” And, though they were dressed differently, perhaps underneath they were one and the same.
“But you were dying,” I said, sitting down.
“He was hurt, real bad,” Brooke said. “But right at the end…” She stopped, choked up by the memory.
Slowly, Fergal sat down on the sofa and, facing me, finished on her behalf. “I repented, and the Lord forgave me. My soul was saved, but my body was broken. Brooke did something to me, and I became like her.”
Somehow repenting his sins had caused Fergal’s soul to shift back to light. I remembered Ruadhan saying that while in some cases it could take a long time for a light soul to turn dark, in others one single, bad decision could be an immediate catalyst. A person’s energy was interchangeable, he’d said. And clearly it worked both ways. Whatever the mechanics, Fergal’s energy had reverted back to light, and somehow Brooke had been able to infect him with venom before he died.
I shook my head, utterly bemused. “Bet you believe demons were human once now.”
* * *
FERGAL SAT UP FRONT in the driver’s seat while Brooke repaired my butterfly mask. It didn’t take a lot of effort to peel it from my skin. I was surprised it had lasted as long as it had, given the events of the last couple of days. After touching up the chipped paint, she carefully set the mask down to dry while she created more 3-D butterflies.
I sat across from her, fiddling with my hair. “Is he drinking from—”
“Humans? Yes, he’s able to now. At first, it was the same for him as it was for me. But he doesn’t rely on my blood or my energy anymore. He can get it himself from a mortal,” she answered.
I crossed my legs, watching her work. Jonah was Brooke’s maker, so she would never be as strong as him. Was it the same for Fergal? Would he never be as strong as Brooke? It seemed with every impossible “next generation,” the attributes that made them supernatural were diluted. I wondered if the same could be said of the mind as of the body. “Brooke. Do you…?”
“Love him? Yes.” I opened my mouth, but she anticipated my question. “I don’t feel that way because we are connected by blood. I felt it before that, before he was like me.”
“There was a time when you said you loved Jonah,” I challenged.
“I still do. But I know now that loving someone is different from being in love with someone. I was never in love with Jonah.” She went back to shaping her butterfly.
“Are you sure it’s not just because you don’t want to be alone?” I was thinking of Jonah, of course, and I regretted my question as soon as I’d said it. It was a self-indulgent one.
“Nope. Definitely the big L.” And then, as if she were educating me, she added, “You just know when you know.” She asked me, “You mind if I camp out here tonight? Can’t exactly stay in the motor home, at least not with Fergal.”
“Why haven’t you told them about him?”
“He’d prefer his family to think he died that day.”
“Why? Is it because he’s ashamed of what he’s become, or because he doesn’t want to shatter their belief system?” If the Sealgaire saw him now, there would be no denying that the Vampires they slaughtered daily had once been human beings. That something they believed so vehemently was actually wrong.
Brooke didn’t give me a direct answer. “The Lord has a purpose for Fergal. We’ll know what that purpose is when we’re meant to. Until then, we wait.”
I could think of no plausible purpose for Fergal being turned into a Vampire—he and Brooke might find themselves waiting a very long time to get the sign they were so obviously expecting.
“What about Gabriel? Ruadhan?” I asked.
“He doesn’t want anyone to know. Not yet,” she said, and I realized that she wasn’t just answering my question; she was asking me to keep their secret.
Dropping the last linen butterfly onto the small pile, Brooke collected the painted mask.
“They need to know, Brooke. It’s important. What if the Purebloods find out this can be done?” A sickening, sinking feeling pulled in my chest. If what Riley had told me in the pub was accurate, then in the time Jonah and I had been in the third, the world’s population had decreased drastically. We put it down to the Purebloods’ feeding more from the dark-souled mortals, and that still rang true. But as for the light-souled mortals that were being “stolen” by the Purebloods’ Second Generations … what if they weren’t stealing them, what if they weren’t taking them to be changed by a Pureblood? What if the Second Generation Vampires were doing what Jonah had done and were creating new Vampires themselves? And what if those Vampires were in turn creating even more, the way Brooke had done with Fergal? That would be a far more effici
ent way to increase their armies. Then again, if each generation were weaker than the last, they’d be producing quantity over quality. The idea didn’t sit well with me. I was missing something, but I wasn’t sure what. I needed a clear head, and I wasn’t going to find that here.
“I’ll sleep in the motor home,” I said. “You can take Little Blue.”
Brooke thanked me as she continued gluing the intricately detailed butterflies around the edge of the mask, spreading three smaller ones just below the eye slit. Again, their antennas pointed outward as though they were flying free. She reapplied the resin before affixing the mask back onto my damaged skin. Without asking, she picked up the hand mirror, holding it out so I could fully appreciate her talents. My bloodshot right eye was the only thing I noticed.
“There.” Brushing my hair behind my ear, she paused. “Where’s the hairpin?” Before I had a chance to think, Brooke squealed, “More importantly, where the feck is my coat?”
“I must have left it behind,” I murmured, angry with myself for being so careless.
“My coat or the hairpin?” she demanded.
“Both,” I confessed. I calmed myself: I may have done a disappearing act on Darwin, but it certainly wasn’t the first time. The coat and hairpin would be safe with him, but right now I needed to rest my eye.
* * *
I SHUT MYSELF AWAY in the confines of a single room in the motor home. There’d still been no sign of Jonah when I’d arrived, and Gabriel and Ruadhan were still immersed in quiet conversation, same as they were when I’d sped by them in the garden en route to Little Blue. Ruadhan had worn a troubled expression, which I’d assumed was due to the attack on Gabriel. I hadn’t realized at the time that his concern was for Jonah.
I allowed my eyelids to close, and I dozed lightly at first, but soon I was drifting in the darkness.
A sudden flash, and my mind soaked red.
Burnt orange filtered from the corner of my consciousness like smoke, twirling against the crimson backdrop.