by Lee, Tawnya
“We’ve come to talk about Moira, the girl Breasal just turned.”
“Yes. Yes. I thought that might be it,” said Paul.
Liam and Dubhan locked eyes.
“What does the Tribunal intend to do about it?” asked Liam.
“Well. It’s sticky. Very sticky. I’ve managed to convince Richard and Medb to vote on it.”
“Vote?” asked Liam.
“Yes. I’ve heard this girl is particularly dangerous. Not evilly dangerous, but a rather powerful and an unknown quantity. I have reason to believe this is related to how she was turned.”
The men sat silent for several minutes. Dubhan studied the wooden table, noting several water rings covering the surface.
“Paul, we know something about this,” said Dubhan.
Liam shot his head up, and raised an eyebrow.
“Are ye a complete muppet, Dubhan? Do you think it wise to blather to the File?”
“Yes. I think in this case we should share what we know.”
“I’m with Dubhan on this one. Tell me what you know,” said Paul.
“Breasal turned Moira, this new blood fae, on Imbolc while her full maternal instinct was in high gear. He did it intentionally. He thinks she’s the fulfillment of the Morrigan’s promise to Banba. He believed by doing so he would create the fierce protector for our kind possible. He’s concerned with the goings on of the rebellion, and hoped he could convince her to take up our side.”
Paul began nodding his head. “I see. A bold move. Might work. Might backfire. She could kill the lot of us.”
“True. We were hoping to convince the Tribunal to be more diplomatic. Reach out to her, befriend her. If she is pushed too fast, too soon, it could be very dangerous,” Dubhan said.
“I’m with you there, my boys,” said Paul. “Unfortunately, I’m the only one on the Tribunal that agrees with you. I managed to persuade Richard and Medb to postpone six days. We have five days now before the vote. I don’t believe time will change his mind. And Medb is a hard one to read.”
“Can we speak with Richard?” Liam said. “Plead to him?”
“You can try. He’s an obstinate one, that. Once he’s on about something, he rarely goes back. Like a dog with a bone, he is.”
“Will you arrange a meeting with him?” asked Liam.
“Come back tomorrow evening. I’ll do my best to convince him to listen to you, if nothing else.”
“Thank you, Paul. We appreciate it very much.”
Dubhan shook the File’s hand. Paul and Liam nodded to each other. Paul stood silent for a moment.
“Don’t you be knowing that blood-drinker of Clan Brodie?”
“We do. We do,” said Liam.
“Talk to him. Maybe between the four of us, we could at least sway Medb. I seem to recall they had a thing in their mortal life.”
Dubhan sighed. “We’ll try. I don’t know that it’s been a pleasant patch for them since they’ve turned.”
“Trying’s all we got, now ain’t it?” Paul said.
“I’m afraid so,” said Dubhan.
“Slán leat,”34 Liam said.
Paul nodded. The pair walked back through the passageway. Ian grunted, and the gate dissolved again for them. They stepped outside and flew away from Dowth, landing on a grassy knoll nearby.
“This is not good,” said Liam.
“No, it’s not. It’s more important than ever we speak with the Clan Brodie. If they can join us and speak to Richard, we may be able to right this.”
“Aye. Let’s go then, and not waste any more time.”
Liam took off into the night sky, Dubhan following behind. Moments later, they stood at the edge of castle Brodie in Scotland. From their view, they could see freshly mowed rows of grass. One of the ancient five-story towers stood to their left, and to the far right of the castle were the most recent expansions. The castle was dignified, stately, and well-preserved. It had been in possession of the Clan Brodie since the twelfth century. No member of the mortal family had occupied the castle since the early 2000s.
Dubhan and Liam glided across the lawn, through the entrance hall, and into the library. Books lined the shelves along the walls, and throughout the room were island bookshelves. Beautiful rugs, chairs, and tables were interspersed throughout the room. A fireplace stood along one side of the wall. It was flanked by two lamps. Atop the mantle, were two vases on either side of a large, heavily wooden-framed mirror. Antique china plates hung over the mirror, two on each side and one directly in the middle. Sitting in front of the fireplace was a tall, ruddy man in Clan Brodie tartan. He stared at the visitors, blue eyes blazing.
“Aye. It’s about time you came, ya dirty weasels,” he said.
Liam held Sedric’s gaze with a twinkle in his eye. “What are you doing wearing your tartan? Wasn’t that outlawed?”
The big man broke into a smile and laughed. “I’ll be damned if the English tell me what to wear when I’m immortal. Besides that’s long gone. And if those mortals have their way now it seems, Scotland will be free once again. Clan Brodie I was in life, and Clan Brodie I am in afterlife. And Dubhan, even when I’m no longer immortal, and I no longer need the blood of men, Clan Brodie I still will be.”
Dubhan and Liam smiled at Sedric, and found a seat.
“Sedric, I’d have you no other way,” Liam said.
“Aye, but it’s not happy news that’s brought you here. I felt it. I knew you were coming. And rumor has it a Banba witch is also a fuilteach thanks to our friend Breasal. Some yank it is, isn’t it?”
“Yes, you have it all right Sedric. News travels fast. That’s exactly why we’re here,” Dubhan said.
He told Sedric how Breasal had turned Moira and her intense protectiveness. He explained what it could mean for the Tribunal and the rebellion if she were forced to give up her children.
“Dubhan, you don’t have to be putting that into words for me. Aye, any mother would kill or be killed for her children if she’s worth the spit God gave her. And to be turned while you believe to be doing just that can make for a pretty intense baobhan sidhe. Richard would have to be a fool to not see it!”
“Stubborn mule he is, he’s made his mind up that following the letter of the law is more important than the good of our kind. In fact, he believes the letter of the law is what’s best for our kind, the stupid cunt,” Dubhan spat.
Sedric examined his fingertips, his brow furrowed.
“What do you need from me?” said Sedric.
“I need you to go with Liam and me to the Tribunal tomorrow evening in Ireland. Help us make a case to keep the Tribunal from acting foolishly. Paul is on our side. But beyond that, Medb is unknown. We may be able to sway her to our side.”
“Medb,” Sedric said, nodding his head. “You think I can convince her? Dubhan, that was long ago. She’s a different person. I canna say for sure she’d listen.”
Sedric looked into the fire. Had Liam not known better, he would’ve sworn Sedric had tears in his eyes.
“You know,” Sedric said, “there was a time when we were inseparable. I don’t know if my presence will help. And I’ll be honest, I do my best to stay clear of her,” Sedric stopped speaking, his jaw clenched. He breathed in deep, and continued. “The night she turned she was on her way to meet another man. Cheatin’ on me the day before our wedding. I was heartbroken when she never made it to the church to say our I do’s. I only put the pieces together after I turned a few days later. She fucking turned me, if you can believe it. Wanted me to suffer with her for all eternity. You realize what you are asking me to do?”
“I do, Sedric. And I’m sorry. I hope she’s been plagued with guilt, and I hope we can use it to our advantage. And if not her, then Richard. You are the best persuasive blood fae I know. You got the gift. You could convince a corpse to come back to life just so you could drain it of blood again.”
“Dubhan, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen or spoken to Medb. And I couldn’t care less. B
ut for you, and for my other blood-drinkers, and for Banba whose blood flowed to Clan Mackenzie, friend of Clan Brodie, I will do it.”
“Thank you, Sedric,” Dubhan bowed his head to him.
“I trust you know your way out?” Sedric asked.
“We do. And tomorrow? We meet just outside the Tribunal castle.”
“Tomorrow,” Sedric said.
Dubhan and Liam disappeared, leaving Sedric to the crackling fire and his thoughts.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It's Time to Go Hunting
“I’ve prepared everything you will need in Scotland. Children’s clothes, toys, strollers. And of course, for you, plenty of clothes as well. Don’t need to be looking like a pauper, now do you? Seara will fly with you. I’ll go first and travel to North Kessock myself.”
Moira watched Derek and Tristan as they played with matchbox cars and stuffed animals. Tristan grabbed a stuffed purple dinosaur and banged and scattered the toy cars, growling and hissing as he did. Derek began to cry and said, “Save people, save people!”
“Tristan, don’t kill Derek’s people,” Moira said, as she swooped up the older twin, Derek, and hoisted him on her hip. She had never been outside the country. She supposed she should be excited, nervous, or even scared. Instead, she felt as if her entire body was on alert. She felt hyper intense, hyper aware, as if every nerve ending in her body were on fire. She felt one short breath away from spontaneously combusting and taking everyone with her. She worked at breathing, slowing down, and focusing on her children without being consumed by it.
She could hear Breasal speaking, but his words were more like the distant clatter of plates and silverware in a crowded restaurant. She focused on Derek, adjusting his collar, pushing his hair down. He poked chubby fingers in her mouth and laughed. Moira smiled and grabbed his fingers, kissing each of them.
“Mommy loves you so much she could eat you.”
She thought back to the days when her mom would take her down to the lake. She’d spend hours cannon balling off the pier or swinging from the rope and jumping into the water while her mom sat to the side, holding a Harlequin romance and swatting flies away. Her eyes dulled. Her smile slid off her face when remembered she would never sit in the sunlight, never cheer as her children made their first dive. She wouldn’t be the one telling them to let go of the side of the pool. That she would catch them and never let them drown. At least not in the sunlight. Not in the day. Her heart twisted thinking of missed days at the park, pushing them in a swing, stopping for snow cones on the way home. It used to feel like a chore, going to the park with the boys. A nerve-wracking chore, worrying about them falling off a slide, or a climbing dome. There would be no runs on a hot day to Dairy Queen for ice cream. No kindergarten graduations. No chaperoning field trips. A single tear slid down her cheek. All of this was behind her. No longer in her reach.
“Moira. Moira,” Breasal put his hand on her shoulder. Moira shook her head slightly and looked at Breasal’s face.
“Oh, sorry. Yes, I’m okay. It’s just hitting me all over again.“
Breasal looked at her, his eyebrows scrunched together, and mouth pursed. “Yes. Well, I suppose there is a lot to process. Just remember, you’ve got me. We have support of the Clan Brodie. We even have one supporter on the Tribunal that we know for sure. We just need to persuade one more and all of this can be over and no blood spilt.”
Tristan toddled over to Moira, and tugged on her pants. “Mommy, up. Mommy up.”
Moira grabbed his arm and pulled him up her leg. She rested him on her left hip, Derek still on her right. It struck her that at one time she would have struggled to juggle them both for more than a minute or two. Now, it was as though she carried two small blankets. The sixty pounds of children barely felt like ounces.
“You’ll fly to Inverness on a private jet with your children and Seara. Everything is ready. I have efficient friends. Oh, and the cat. She can board the plane with you. We’ll give her a tranquilizer to calm her during the flight,” Breasal smiled.
Seara smiled at Tristan, grabbed his fingers, and squeezed them lightly, “We have it all covered. Isn’t that right, Tristan?”
Tristan smiled back, his cerulean blue eyes shining as he blew bubbles at her. Seara straightened up, and said, “Breasal, you can go ahead and leave. I think we’ll be fine together.”
Moira, still emotional, glared at Breasal. He looked back at her, his eyes soft. “Very well. I’ll be off. See you soon.”
Breasal left the cabin and flew into the night. Seara and Moira loaded the boys into a black sedan idling in the front yard. The car was stocked with apple juice, Cheerios, and a DVD playing “Dora the Explorer” in the back of the headrests.
“He really thought of everything,” Moira murmured.
“Yes, he’s not a cunt all the time. Of course, some of the touches were my idea. I never did have children, but sometimes when one has eternity to think it over, one realizes what’s been missed.” Seara stared out the darkened limousine window. Moira, watching her, realized she had never considered much about Seara’s past.
“When you were turned, how old were you?”
“I was twenty eight. In my time, I was more than considered an old maid. But I didn’t find men attractive. I’d already given the idea of children up. I was more interested in my poetry and sketching. I had a love, Clara.” Seara examined Moira’s face, noticing the gently upturned nose and the piercing blue eyes.
“How was it? I mean, to be in love, and to turn? Did you ever speak to her again?”
“We were in the middle of a heated discussion about Peelers and Penal law.”
“Excuse me, the Peelers?”
“Oh, the Peelers. The first modern police force in Ireland. They were named after Robert Peel, supposedly to quash rioting. I was very much against the idea of it. Penal law... Just another way to feck over the Catholics, it was. I was Catholic, you see; Clara was Protestant. Mostly, Clara and I got along together. But she didn’t quite see things the way I did. But that was another day, long ago. Anyhow, I was so taken by the flush of her cheeks that I leaned over and kissed her. We weren’t lovers. But I was in love. It took her by surprise, I must admit. And before she stopped it, she returned the kiss. But she did stop it. I remember her face. Her blonde hair, pulled up in a bun with wisps framing her face. Her eyes wide. I told her I just got carried away. I’m not sure if she really felt the same as I did. I think she loved me, but not in that way. Regardless, she didn’t turn me out. But she let me know not to try again.” Seara sighed and paused for a while.
“She lived next door, and had for years. We’d grown up playing as children. I think I always loved her. To the outside world we were simply close friends. I don’t think anyone suspected my feelings. The night I was turned, I’d been daydreaming about her, that kiss. I was basking in all that glory right up to the moment the fangs of immortality pierced my neck,” Seara half smiled, nostalgic.
“What happened? Who turned you?”
“The who doesn’t matter anymore. I watched from afar as Clara eventually married and grew old. She died never knowing what happened to me. Always believing, well, I’m not exactly sure if she believed I had died or simply ran away. I watched her cry at night, and could only guess, or hope perhaps, it may have been a bit of the heartache I was feeling.”
“So you were in love and caught in the emotion of being in love. This power you have, the power when you touched me. It’s from being in love?”
“I haven’t been in love in centuries, but yes, I can give the impression that one is in love, the rush of dopamine and all that. I sometimes feel it still, but for the first one hundred years felt the great despair of never knowing, of never having love returned. It’s a blessing in disguise I suppose.” Seara’s lips turned down in a frown.
“What about you? Have you been in love?” Seara asked.
“Once,” Moira fidgeted with her hands, resting in her lap. Seara watched the emotion etched into
Moira’s face.
“I loved the boys’ father. His name was John Michael Willis. We were waiting to get married till after the babies were born. Kind of doing it backwards, I guess,” she glanced up at Seara and half-smiled.
“He was the only one. The only one who loved me unconditionally. He had this great big laugh. You couldn’t help but laugh with him once he started. And his stories,” Moira chuckled. “His stories were great. He was so expressive. He could make a trip to wal-mart sound like an expedition worthy of a book. Half the fun in listening to him was watching him. His hand gestures, his faces. And his laugh. I hope the boys get his laugh.”
“What happened to him?”
“The boys were just a week old. He was so proud of them. I think he’d say it was the best thing that ever happened to him, the boys that is. We ran out of diapers. Miscalculated how much two babies could shit. God, we were so green back then,” Moira laughed.
“Anyhow, I was still struggling to walk, and not in any way wanting to get out of the house. So he went. Just to the Albertson’s. It was only five minutes from the house. When forty-five minutes passed, I didn’t really panic. John Michael was a friend to everyone. Never met a stranger either. It wasn’t uncommon that he’d get stuck talking to folks, telling stories. Spend twenty minutes in the frozen food aisle just talking. Everyone loved him.”
“But,” Moira stopped. Her eyes reddened; her lips tightened. She took a deep breath and went on with her story. “When the cops showed up to the house, I knew right away something was wrong. I started screaming, ‘Where is he? What’s happened?’ They were nice enough to help me sit down at the kitchen table before they told me the whole story. He’d been shot. Died immediately. One bullet straight through his head. Some fucking asshole shot him trying to hold up the store,” Moira sniffed and wiped her eyes.
“I wish I could, but I’ll never forget their words. ‘Ma’am, I’m afraid we have some bad news.’ I didn’t believe that he was dead. Not at first. It felt unreal. Everything slowed down. I felt trapped in a bubble, like everything they said was muffled. They seemed so far away. Everything seemed far away.”