Descending

by C E Dimond

  I could tell them nothing. Lucky enough for me, introducing myself as Finn from America seemed to suffice, at least for now.

  We finished eating with various chatter. They gave me advice about what I needed to see, and what areas of the city to avoid if possible. I pretended to be thankful for the tourist advice, but my mission there was far beyond seeing the sights. I could hardly tell them that, so I made a show of repeating some of the names back to them.

  It seemed to work as they turned the conversation to other things. While they were distracted, chatting with one another I took the moment to sneak away.

  I made my way back to the room and packed only what I needed for the day. My plan was to head straight back to the archives. Only, I was still missing one importance piece of paper. I would have to figure it out on the fly. It was on my way out of the building that I noticed it, sitting there just on the edge of the check-in counter top.

  Mail.

  Pretending to be searching for something in my bag, I waited for the moment they turned their back before I quickly swiped a piece on the top of the pile and slid it into my bag.

  This was what I had resorted to now, stealing mail. A federal offence. It wasn’t stealing if I was bringing it back right? I was only borrowing it. I had to keep telling myself that.

  I wandered down the street the light drizzle soaking through my ill-chosen slip-ons with every step I took. I finally found a cab and slipped into the backseat. I repeated the address of the archives for the second time since I’d landed in Dublin. I had a feel I was going to get to know that area extremely well during my trip.

  I waited until I was sure the driver was focused on the road, before I took out the piece of mail I’d snatched from the counter. I carefully opened it up to see what was inside. An internet bill, that would do. Wrecking my brain for the spell I’d used at the airport, the one I’d see Eamon perform flawlessly more than once. I silently prayed it would work again. I ran my fingers across the smooth paper. I kept my lips together, voicing the spell only in my mind and gradually I could see the information changing, my name appeared where the Hostel’s had once been.

  I just hoped they wouldn’t take too close a look at the address.

  The relief when it worked, along with all my other identification was beyond explanation. I had everything I needed now. A giant weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

  I was in.

  4

  The paperwork that was contained within the building spanned centuries. Lucky for me, I knew what I was looking for, at least on some level.

  I knew the best place to start was with any documents regarding the McLoughlin family line. It was time to find out exactly what sort of legacy I descended from and what that meant for my father’s plans.

  I found that it was relatively simple to request these sorts of documents without rousing any sort of suspicion. After all, that was what the building was there for. For once, there was no one questioning why I wanted information on my family line.

  Seated at a table with the requested documents before me, I began to look into their history. With each new page, things that had been kept so quiet back home, so secret and forbidden, slowly began to reveal themselves to me.

  The McLoughlin’s and O’Neill’s had been rivals; families at war over a rightful leader. The thought couldn’t help but bring a small smile to my lips. It was funny, in a sad, ironic sort of way, how some things never seemed to change. My eyes scanned the history and each new word added an additional level of understanding to the often-toxic dynamic of Broadhaven.

  It read that both of the families had been descended from the high king. So, the two rightful leaders, the ones who could properly stake any sort of claim were the McLoughlin’s and the O’Neill’s, kinsmen and rivals for leadership of their dynasty.

  There was an entire hierarchy there, hidden within our own Coven that I had never even known about.

  I continued to pour over the words, and things that I had once struggled to understand began to fall into place.

  Whatever their claims on the surface, we were not all equals at Broadhaven. When I sensed the power struggle between them all, it was a glimpse of their history repeating itself, shining through the centuries. The struggle for power continued. Even among the descendants now, those who had been distanced from their ancestors by centuries, even millenniums.

  The further I read into the conflict, the more I realized the struggles didn’t end there. The O’Connor’s too had once had their shot at running the Kingdom and so, it became opposed again and again.

  There was a part of me that was amazed that they had still remained together, even with all the fighting amongst themselves. In spite of the conflict, they had still chosen to take refuge together in a new land. From reading these pages, and knowing them how I did, I couldn’t imagine why they hadn’t each gone their own way. It seemed like it would have been the most reasonable choice, for their sanity if nothing else, particularly from what I had only just learned.

  Though, I soon came to the conclusion that losing their powers permanently was a bigger fear for the families than being forced to work together.

  At least together they had managed to work in unison to keep their magic alive with their strange, sometimes too rigid rules.

  Thus fell the McLoughlins

  of noble Clan Owen

  Kings of Aileach

  and Monarchs of Eire;

  Deprived of a kingdom

  through the fortunes of battle

  and the schemes of their rivals;

  Trapped between swords

  Red ran their blood

  on the hills of Caim Eirge.1

  Even as I read the words my blood ran cold, colder than ice as they played over in my mind; the schemes of their rivals. The other families were the rivals, our ancestors’ rivals, his rivals. In turn, by association, that made them my rivals.

  The stories, the history of my McLoughlin ancestors had me enthralled as I carefully sorted through pages. I was just beginning to pull up my laptop to further expand my research, as a knock came on the table before me. I turned my head quickly, a hint of a jump in my frame. The shock of the sudden sound had broken my concentration. My eyes focused to see a man pointing to his watch and I knew my time had run out, at least for that day.

  It hadn’t been enough, and what little I had learned only fed the beast. I needed more and I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had it. Having to place it to the side when I had only just begun to scratch the surface felt suffocating.

  I nodded in a show of understanding and gathered up what little I had learned, along with my things. I returned the documents and placed my notes and laptop into the bag.

  I was at a loss now, for what to do with my time and the suggestions from breakfast began to replay in my mind. I was here, I may as well take a little time to do a sightseeing.

  I turned onto Bride Street and began to walk, uncertain of what I would discover on my whimsical journey. In just a matter of minutes I had stumbled upon St. Patrick’s Cathedral and just across, the park.

  I sat on the bench there staring up at the eight-hundred-year-old church. As my thoughts began to get lost within themselves, my sight-seeing moment quickly turned into a soul searching one.

  I had retreated into my own mind, thinking of everything that was riding on my self-discovery.

  Why me?

  Why couldn’t it have been anyone else. No matter my lineage, no matter my natural power, I knew that I wasn’t prepared for this.

  I was weak.

  All the magic and strength I had trained to build, was no match for my own personality, my own flaws. My greatest weakness was the willingness to give the benefit of the doubt. The eagerness to give a second chance.

  It was that weakness that made me doubt the cruel opinions of Cormac, made me question if his intentions were truly an act of malice.

  That weakness had me wondering if my father was truly the monster the Coven had painted
him to be.

  The sun had gradually started to disappear from view and the night sky had formed around me long before I could be pulled from my thoughts.

  The air became damper, and a new chill was creeping through the jacket, proving to remind me of my own humanity.

  Still, I didn’t leave; not yet.

  It was the first time that I had been truly, completely alone since I had been taken from Port Moyle. The park was emptying, the city quieting around it. I still needed a moment more to allow my mind to settle, to embrace that silence.

  Even as I tried to drown out the further sounds in the distance, something caught my attention and heightened my senses, not in a good way.

  My eyes flew open and I turned just to see a shadow slipping behind the tree. My breath was trapped in my chest as I quickly took to my feet and made my way back through the park as fast as my legs would carry me.

  They had followed me there, the faeries, the ones my father had cursed to protect me all those years ago. My only solace in the moment, was that I was nowhere near the water. Not yet at least.

  I walked faster, pushing myself harder and driving each step with determination until I was almost certain I had made it into the clear. Passing by a restaurant, I stood in the light and checked my phone to find out just how far I had wandered. Disappointment shone once I saw that I was nowhere near where I needed to be. I looked up and down the street, fearful as there wasn’t a cab in sight.

  “Damn it” I muttered as the anxiety that had nestled in my chest began to build even further. It was dark, I was alone and I had no idea where I was.

  All in all, I hadn’t made the smartest detour decision. Forget the magic, I was in general harm’s way now. It had been easy to forget the common safety sense of a teenage girl in a foreign land, when I’d been more worried about fairies and Warlocks than your run-of-the-mill criminal.

  I began to walk again, slowly at first before my anxiety pushed further and I broke into a soft run toward the first main street in sight.

  Suddenly, an arm grabbed me with a shocking roughness and pulled me into the shadows. I didn’t even get a scream out of my lungs before my back was thrown against the bricks and the air knocked had been out of them.

  My head spun; I felt a cold hand close over my mouth preventing any calls for help I might have attempted. I managed to gain my breath back as I struggled against the hold, still trying my best to scream. My vision was blurred, and it took a moment before it began to focus again.

  Once my sight had cleared, as clear as the shadowy nook would allow, I saw a head of long dark hair and fair skin that was half-lit by the dim beams of street lamps into the alleyway.

  “Ssssh,” she said, still holding her hand tightly across my mouth. I could feel my heartbeat racing, but she simply held me tight against the wall showing no signs of letting go. Her aquamarine, blue-green eyes were locked on me with an intense stare. I stared straight back into them, accepting, in distraction perhaps, that they were closer to green than blue. It was, I noticed, a strange observation before a moment of recognition came over me.

  With that, I conceded in the struggle. I no longer continued to fight her. Instead, I just stared as my mind tried to place the familiarity.

  Then it came. It was her, the girl that I had noticed at the dance back in Broadhaven, the one who had been watching us. What was she doing here?

  “Now listen to me,” she instructed, her voice calm and controlled. “I am going to remove my hand, and you are not going to scream. Is that understood?”

  The words held the slight tone of a threat, but she didn’t seem to be offering one. I hesitated for a moment before nodding and she pulled her hand away with her own careful hesitation.

  “Was that really necessary?” I asked, a bit louder than intended. My voice strained as I struggled to draw the air back in my lungs.

  “Sssh,” she said again. Her eyes kept glancing around the dark alley before they turned back to me. “You have to know that we’re never alone, especially not here.”

  I wanted to scoff, to roll my eyes at such a statement but her earnest delivery gave me no choice but to believe her.

  “What do you want?” I asked, this time lowering my voice. Though I was missing the most important question of them all. “And who are you?”

  “You need to leave here”

  If she had any intention of answering my question, it would not be with ease. It seemed that I was going to have to push her a bit further.

  “Yeah I know, clearly this street is letting the riff-raff roam free,” I countered.

  The glare she gave me actually caused a smile to form on my lips. I was glad to know, at least for a small moment, I had gotten the upper hand.

  “Not this street you nimrod, the city” she assured me. “In fact, leave the country preferably.”

  I blinked.

  Who did this girl think she was? Grabbing strangers on the street, demanding they leave a country they’d only just arrived in? My benefit of the doubt nature had taken a back seat suddenly and was replaced instead by my clear annoyance.

  “Well it’s all a bit sudden, but if you’re asking me to run away with you, I’ll have to think about it. Umm no” I retorted.

  “You’re a regular comedian, clearly I’ve missed out. I’m trying to do you a favor here okay? I could just try saving my own hide and walk away which, you’re making extremely tempting actually.”

  She seemed to have no trouble warning me like we were old friends. Well, friends was a strong word. I leaned back against the wall crossing my arms over my body in defiance.

  “You still never said who you were, so why should I trust you?” I pointed out.

  Why would I take advice from a stranger? Our ever so brief, high school dance bond hardly seemed like a good enough reason to trust her.

  That look of disdain on her face, the one of annoyance, bothered me. I couldn’t help but feel like it seemed really familiar. I didn’t get to dwell on it too long as it appeared to vanish from her face and she seemed to struggle with the next words.

  For a half-second, that felt like longer, she glanced down at the ground. With the advantage of being momentarily out of her sight, I was tempted to run. Except, something kept me there, maybe somehow knowing that if I ran, she would only find me again.

  Whatever internal struggle had been going on in her mind, came to a quick halt then. She lifted her eyes from the ground once more and gaze straight into mine.

  “You should trust me, because I’m your sister.”

  5

  My eyes stared widely at the girl before me. They seemed to have glazed over while her confession began to sink in. I had prepared myself for a variety of answers, the most likely one in my mind had been another one of Caine’s overbearing exes.

  Of all the things she could have said, this was not close to anything I might have suspected to hear. Even in my wildest dreams, I never could have predicted it. It hadn’t even been that long since I had first learned that, at one point in time, I’d had an older sister.

  Even with that brief knowledge my mind had run wild with imagination. I had dreamt up hundreds of different scenarios of what might have happened to this mysterious sister of mine, almost of all of which had surrounded her now alleged death.

  I’d always wondered how had she died? A medical issue? A fall? Perhaps a car accident? They had all seemed like logical outcomes. I had even imagined what my life may have been like if we had grown up together, both of us at Broadhaven with our parents alive and well.

  The one thing I never had imagined, was running into her in an alleyway in a foreign country. It was certainly beyond what I would have imagined in the realms of possibility. After all, my beloved, estranged sister, was supposed to be dead.

  “Wh- wait, but you-.” I knew with certainty that she had been at the dance. I remembered her, the girl from the corner, the one who had been staring. I had gotten that sense of familiarity then but dismissed it when no one
else had recognized her. It seemed clear now why only I had noticed her presence. “You were at the dance” I said softly. Revealing something she already would have been aware of. After all, she had been there too. “You were in Maine.”

  “Iseult McLoughlin” she introduced, offering her hand forward to me. My memories brought me back to the locked bedroom door at the home. Izzy, written so lovingly across it. I was also brought back to the overgrown grave in the back of the home. How was this possible?

  “Or as I grew up believing, Elizabeth Dunne” she added, and my head relaxed back against the wall as I stared at her still unable to shake my surprise.

  “So you weren’t dead” I deduced. I could have argued further, denied her. Except that my intuition, that feeling of familiarity was only explained if this were the truth.

  “Not even close.”

  “How long have you known? How long have you been following me?” I asked.

  She had to have been in Boston too, otherwise how would she have known to find me here? She must have followed me directly onto the flight and yet I hadn’t sensed her there.

  “I’ve known I wasn’t a Dunne for a while,” she confessed. “And I’ve been following you since you turned sixteen. I had to keep an eye out on my baby sister. I knew that this would happen.”

  “You died.” I said, stating the obvious replaying it all over in my mind again and to my dismay.

  She laughed slightly.

  “So I’ve been told. Greatly exaggerated, I assure you. I am very much alive, I always was.” She took my arm and tugged me out of the alley, and together we moved through the city streets in silence.

  I was still so debilitated from shock, that I didn’t even bother to fight her. I let her lead the way as my thoughts tried to organize themselves. We came to a sudden stop when she found a small coffee shop nearby and I followed her inside.

  She led me to a table in the corner where we could get ourselves better acquainted. There was still hesitation in my mind but as always, curiosity won over the risk of any probable danger I could have been in. The truth was never simple, and when faced with something so mysterious, I needed to know the facts.