Got Luck

by Michael Darling

  Dawn of a new day.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Survivor

  I don’t know how long I lay there, but I knew I was dying. I faded in and out of consciousness. Each time I awoke, the sky was a little brighter. Too weak to move, I was content in knowing that Brón was no more. Erin and Brandy and Carlene were all alive. Max and Sandretta and Nat wouldn’t need to hide. Keeper would check on them for me. My father, the Alder King, would remain on the throne.

  It all felt good and right.

  I heard scrapes. Perhaps it was the earth, moving to take me.

  “Thou fool,” said a voice.

  Béil was with me. She walked around toward my feet so she wouldn’t have to look at me upside down.

  “Thou fool,” she repeated.

  “You said that already,” I replied. And then, “Brón is gone. You’re free from him, Béil. Caimiléir told me how to make sure he couldn’t return. He will never come back to claim you.”

  She continued to look at me with a sour expression.

  “I know you wanted to be here for it,” I said. “But you could still say ‘thank you.’ Nobody will know, and I’m dying so it won’t matter anymore. In fact, you owe Caimiléir, too.”

  She looked me over and I think she was probing me with her fingers. I grunted a bit when she found my broken ribs, but I really wasn’t feeling much of anything.

  “Where is. Caimiléir. Then?” she asked.

  “Under a slab of concrete. Maybe. If you find him, don’t kill him.”

  I watched her as she looked around. She remained kneeling over me as she scanned the scene in every direction.

  “I don’t. See him. Here,” she said.

  “Huh,” was my eloquent reply. It was possible, I supposed, that I had destroyed the ward with my silver fire and Caimiléir had gotten away. I wasn’t sorry.

  “Is the deamhan heart still here?” I asked.

  “Deamhan heart?” Béil replied.

  I told her how Caimiléir and I had attacked Brón together. How I had carved out Brón’s heart. How I had eaten a piece of it and then I stopped Brón for good. I didn’t tell her about the silver shard or my discovery in connecting to the earth’s power, but I assured her that I had been able to burn the deamhan’s remains completely.

  As I spoke, Béil grew more grim and her features hard.

  “The last. Thou sawest. Of the heart. Was with. Caimiléir?” she asked.

  “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  She didn’t answer that question. Instead, she said, “We must. Get thee. To a safer. Place.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said. I was starting to go under again. Maybe for the last time. “Tell Erin—I mean Fáidh—I, uh,” I cleared my throat. There was a catch in it that wouldn’t budge. “Just tell her I wish we could have had more time. Tell Nat he’s the best friend I ever had.”

  “Thou fool,” Béil said.

  “You keep saying that. I might start taking it personally.”

  “So. Thou didst attack. Brón. Thinking. Thou. Wouldst die?”

  I laughed a little. “You’re the one who told me I was going to die.”

  “To frighten thee. To make. Thee want. To summon me.”

  “Well, you accomplished half of that. I was frightened.”

  “And yet. Thou didst keep. Fighting?”

  “Of course.”

  “Even though. Thou wouldst. Die?”

  I was too tired and weak to open my eyes again. I let the moment be. I felt a few drops of water land on my face. It seemed to be raining. The drops were warm and ran onto my lips. They tasted salty. Funny. Rain didn’t usually taste salty.

  I heard Béil sniff. “What fools. These mortals. Be.”

  “See. Shakespeare said it better.”

  I felt her fingers on my face. “I can. Save thee,” she said.

  “No more deals,” I replied. “You already owe me.”

  “Yes.”

  “So. Do what you need to do.” She would either save me or not. My mind fell into a pool of white.

  * * *

  I guess she needed to save me.

  Images and noises floated through the white for a while. A female voice. Urgent whispering. A child’s face drenched in sweat but determined. I struggled to recognize the faces. I tried to speak. But I couldn’t move or make a sound at all.

  Then I woke up at the pink castle. Jon Bon Jar-Jar or whatever it was called. Béil and Laoch were there when I finally cracked open my eyes. Turned out I’d lost a whole day. I could tell when I did a bit of sleuthing, which is, after all, my profession.

  “How long have I been out?” I asked.

  “A day,” Béil said.

  See? Sleuthing. My profession. I only moonlight as a deamhanslayer.

  “I’ll live then?”

  “Thou shalt live.”

  I was filled with gratitude upon hearing those words. If I weren’t such a man, I would have cried. More than a couple of tears. A couple of tears are still manly. I was entitled to shed a couple of tears. One for each “X” chromosome.

  “I wish I could express my feelings to you in words,” I said, remembering to avoid the words “Thank you.”

  “Ironically. Credit. Goes to. Brón,” Béil said.

  “How’s that?” I asked.

  “It was. Brón who. Enabled me. To have. Laoch.”

  I was confused.

  She went on, “And Laoch. Is a part. Of thee. Ye are. Part of. Each other.”

  I tried to grasp what she meant.

  “It would. Be unwise. To. Test the limits. But. With Laoch. Thou hast. Two lives. In a way. Ye are. One person. In two bodies. Together. It’s possible. Thou mayest. Never. Die. But I fear. If thou diest. So will he.”

  Her words were sobering. And amazing. And in my mind, I had to review again all the reasons Béil had for wanting to help me.

  Those images and noises came back to me in a flood. They had healed me together, Béil and Laoch. But the boy had made the greater contribution. I found myself very concerned about Laoch.

  Does any of this harm the boy? How does it work? Is there anything I need to do for him?

  Béil didn’t offer any further information. She fixed a cryptic expression on her face and put her hand on Laoch’s head, stroking his hair with a gesture that was comforting and motherly. Laoch hadn’t said anything at all, which wasn’t odd for him. He looked at me with solemn eyes and an awareness that Big Things had been happening and he had been a part of them.

  I decided that the way they quietly related to each other was sufficient answer. I didn’t need anything more.

  Not right now. I was here and alive and it was enough.

  “Madrasceartán. Arrived. And carried. Thee here. Thy father. Asked me to. Tell thee. ‘Well done.’”

  Wow. Two whole words from dad.

  But my sarcasm was unfair.

  At least he cared enough to try. How many people had fathers who didn’t care at all? I was still living, and I had a father who cared enough to send his special liondog assassin to haul my unconscious keister to a relatively safe place. And he even left a message.

  Well done.

  “Has anyone else come to see me?” I asked, hoping for a certain answer.

  “Yes,” Béil replied, rolling her eyes. “She came. Fáidh helped heal thee. Too.”

  Nice.

  I felt a measure of added relief that had nothing to do with the physical state of my injuries. There was no pain to speak of, but I felt extremely weak. Probably explained the extra leaking chromosomes. Stupid chromosomes.

  “I can’t apologize for how things have turned out,” I said. I pinched my eyes with my fingers to dry them. “Remember, the words you spoke?” I quoted the prophecy she had given:

  What was once abov
e is below,

  What was below, above.

  What was once in is out,

  What was out is in.

  Call the inside out,

  Not the outside in.

  “The first two lines referred to the location, I decided. There were two parcels of land near each other and dirt had been excavated from one place and dumped in the other. The next two lines referred to Caimiléir and Brón. Caimiléir was once in the Alder King’s court but he was kicked out. Brón was out of the Mortal realm but Caimiléir brought him in.”

  Béil was skeptical but she had a pretty good idea what the ending meant. “And the. Last lines. Are the. Two of us. I suppose?”

  “I think so. Maybe I’m just interpreting the words to fit what happened. Maybe it’s just bad poetry. But I called the power inside me to defeat the deamhan.”

  And the power inside the earth.

  “And I don’t think bringing you in from the outside was meant to be.”

  “You have. More power. And capacity. Than any. Halfling should,” she said ruefully.

  I had the earth. I am a . . . Conduit.

  “I had Caimiléir’s help,” I countered. “If I hadn’t convinced him—forced him—to help it might have been a different outcome.”

  Béil’s expression did not soften.

  “I don’t blame you for being angry. I know what it’s like when you want something and you don’t get it.”

  Béil looked at me with her eyes half-closed. After a long moment of frozen silence, she finally nodded. That’s what passed for understanding and gratitude among the Fae.

  “I’m glad you are free from Brón’s promise,” I said, trying to be magnanimous while still venturing to remind her how some circumstances that were quite important to her had turned out in her favor.

  She looked at me for a moment and then turned her head away while she pretended to be interested in something on the far wall. I guess that debt was paid by her caring for me in the last day or so. Although, from what I had just learned, saving me was also saving Laoch, and I knew he was definitely important to her.

  I let it go but had a different question.

  “Has Caimiléir been seen?”

  That question brought half a smile to her lips.

  “He has made. No appearance. In this realm. As thou saidst. There was. So much. Rubble. To sift. Through. He either. Escaped. Or is. A puddle.”

  Laoch actually giggled. The sound was creepy.

  For better or worse then, the fate of the deamhan’s heart was the same as Caimiléir’s. I was pretty sure he was still alive. I still carried his Stain.

  Keeper would know more about the deamhan’s heart, I bet. If anyone knew—or could find out—it would be Keeper. I’d go track him down as soon as I had the chance.

  * * *

  I didn’t have to track Keeper down.

  When my stomach decided it was tired of being empty, I walked stiffly down to the kitchen to find my friends Stail and Láir had allowed themselves to be recruited to cook again. Everything they had prepared was fresh and light and easy on my stomach. Consommé. Salad niçoise. About a dozen different tapas dishes, each more delicious than the last. The food nourished and comforted in bits and pieces.

  As I sat at the table, I caught Láir looking at me and beaming. “So good to see you,” I called. Láir nodded and Stail raised an eyebrow in my general direction. They were glad to see me too.

  Keeper’s voice came booming down the marble halls, telling Béil what a beautiful residence she had and how he needed to visit more often.

  He came around the corner and spied me, and a wide grin erupted from beneath all those whiskers.

  “There ya are, lad,” he said. He was carrying a bottle of something.

  He put his burden on the table and held his massive arms outstretched. I stood and received a rock-like embrace that just about crushed the wind out of me. He smelled of wood fire and baked bread and brotherhood. With tenderness, he said, “Ya won a victory for the ages, my boy.” I caught a sentimental glimmer in his eyes when he let me go.

  He clapped me on the shoulder, which was like being hit by a linebacker. Then he handed the rather dusty bottle to Béil.

  “Don’t ask where I got it,” he said conspiratorially, “If we’re lucky, it won’t be missed until savored and all evidence destroyed.”

  Béil smiled and accepted the gift with a polite curtsy.

  Keeper half-whispered to Laoch, “I haven’t forgotten ya.” From thin air, as far as I could see, he produced a tall mug with froth on top and a spoon. “The mortals call this ‘root beer float’ and I can tell thee from personal experience that its contents are a marriage made by the gods.”

  Laoch took a sniff, then a sip. A huge smile spread across his face.

  Having completed his duties, Keeper turned his attention back to me.

  “How are our friends?” I asked.

  “Fáidh is well. She came to see ya,” Keeper replied.

  “I’ve been told she helped patch me up. Again.” I said. “I’m glad to hear she’s all right.”

  “She is and she’ll want to see ya now yer awake.”

  “That’s great. What about the others?”

  “The one called Brandy suffered less and recovered quickest. The one called Carlene needed some care. The ordeal frightened her greatly and she was ill-prepared to deal with deamhan beings from another realm. The night was long for both, but we set them to rights. I’ll tell ya that they neither remember nor bear any sign of their misfortune. They’ve forgotten all from that night and believe they had a wee bit much to drink and fell asleep at Fáidh’s house where they found themselves when they awoke. ‘Tis best if they are not reminded of the truth.”

  Oh, they bore signs of their misfortunes all right. They had Caimiléir’s Stain on them as well. I just replied, “Of course.”

  Keeper put a meaty hand on each of my shoulders, and it felt as if I were carrying a full pack on a fifty-mile hike. He looked into my eyes with probing intensity. “Ya defeated one of the seven Lords of Deamhan, lad.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, aye. Brón was no common deamhan. Caimiléir bargained with him to gain his service and all his followers. Are ya certain he’s gone?”

  I returned a steady gaze. “Brón’s annihilated,” I replied. “Burned, except for the heart.”

  Keeper nodded. I didn’t mention my finding the means to become a Conduit to him either. First, because it was too important to discuss in mixed company. Second, because it had nearly killed me and I had no plans to try it again. Ever.

  “And Caimiléir?” Keeper asked.

  I shook my head. “I can’t be sure. I didn’t see him escape, but it’s possible my ward was broken when the ceiling started coming down, so he probably made it free. I plan to find out what I can as soon as I return to my realm.”

  “Your realm?” Keeper chuckled. “Lad, yer only a few days past 10,000 dawns, but ya served us all well—better than most who have lived centuries—and yer already one of us. This realm is yours now.”

  I smiled and said, “I stand corrected.”

  “Indeed ya do.”

  “May I ask you a question, Keeper?”

  “Always.”

  “What about Brón’s heart? If Caimiléir lives and has the deamhan’s heart, is that a problem? Everything happened so fast. I got Brón’s heart and I ate a little bit of it and then I had to kill him. Now it may be gone.”

  Keeper took a step back and stroked his whiskers while he thought. I was relieved to have the weight of his hands off my shoulders. “So thou has tasted the heart of a deamhan, eh?”

  “Yes. Caimiléir said that if the heart was eaten, the deamhan could not live again.”

  “Then it is true. An Eternal cannot lie. The heart cannot be restored if thou h
ast eaten a part of it. And the deamhan is gone.”

  “Is it a problem though if Caimiléir has the rest of it?”

  Keeper’s thick eyebrows knit themselves together as he frowned. “‘Tis a problem indeed,” he said. “Ya want to cook a heart with young green leeks, and those are out of season right now.”

  There was a silent moment while my overtaxed mind tried to worry about the horrible consequences of Caimiléir taking the deamhan heart while half-listening to the words Keeper said. Finally, my mind caught up to what I’d heard, and I realized Keeper was putting one over on me.

  “Ha-haaah!” Keeper roared. He grabbed me by the shoulder and leaned over.

  I laughed in return, in part because Keeper’s laugh was so over-the-top. And it struck me funny to see how he was killing himself with his own joke. And also because I was finally able to know it was really over. Relief equals laughter. The doctor tells you your disease is in remission, or the cops find your lost child, or the deamhan is truly dead and gone—you laugh. Keeper and I laughed until my sides ached and then he put his arms around me again.

  “Thou hast naught to fear,” Keeper said. “Be well and visit me when thou returnest to the realm.”

  In my heart, I vowed I would.

  Keeper was the father I wish I had.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  A Woman and a Lie

  I wanted to sleep in my own bed that night. As soon as I felt strong enough for a walk, I descended from Béil’s castle and went down to the lake. I called “Midnight Dreary!” and within minutes, my friendly neighborhood raven had found me. “I need to find the quickest way to my home in the Mortal realm,” I said. The raven led me gate-by-gate to a stone that was only a jump from the Alder King’s castle. When it opened, I saw the inside of my own house.

  Huh. Got my own stone now, it seems.

  I gave Midnight Dreary a nod and said, “You are a good and faithful friend.” She croaked once and flapped away.

  I wanted to check in with Nat—and Erin—but the coincidence of days and nights was not in my favor. When I stepped through the portal into my house, it was the middle of the night in the mortal realm. I was curious to see if there was news about the building over the pit—the second building of MacPherson’s I had destroyed. The middle-of-the-night rebroadcast of the evening news devoted a whole sixty seconds to the story. The reporter on the scene stated that the building was being constructed as a movie set for an upcoming blockbuster. The site wasn’t finished yet, but some work being done to prepare for some special effects had gone wrong, and according to company officials, the test had gone badly, resulting in the building’s collapse. Lonnie MacPherson, the company’s CEO, could not be reached for comment.