“Well,” Edward said through gritted teeth. “Are we going to spend all day here?”
In answer, several oíche dropped from the ceiling inside the circling wall of flame.
Dante went after the one nearest Edward. He spun, and his blade severed the oíche’s arm.
That distracted the oíche long enough for Edward to smack his face with a flaming hand. The oíche gave a look of surprise before being consumed in fire. The faerie fell back, and both the oíche and the fire vanished in a cloud of darkness.
Dante had already turned on the others that had dropped when more figured out the trick.
Edward’s hands were shaking now. “Get down.”
Dante dropped to the floor.
Edward brought his hands together, and the circling wall followed his command. The spheres began launching themselves at right angles, streaking straight across the circle instead of orbiting it.
Oíche dove in all directions. Some were hit in midair by the flaming globes, which splashed like napalm and stuck. Others were hit by the spatter, and while it didn’t consume them, it did stick, it did burn, and, going by the screams, it did hurt.
In moments, oíche were flailing with arms and legs ablaze, shrieking and trying to put out the fires. Some slapped at their faces, trying in vain to extinguish the flames. A few were truly determined and charged at Dante and Edward in spite of the fire.
Dante moved with the kind of grace and skill that would make a prima ballerina hang up her slippers. His silver blades glinted as he cut down oíche, avoided their attacks, and dodged the flaming orbs that were flying back and forth.
Edward, meanwhile, was doing his best not to pass out, trip, or be burned by his own fire again. He did get a lucky hit with his hand-fire on an oíche that had backed away from Dante, though.
As the last one close to him vanished in a cloud of darkness, Edward noticed the rest of the oíche were keeping their distance.
“They’re stalling us, it’s a distraction!” he said.
“Well, it’s a good one.” Dante dodged swipes and grunted in pain as a claw raked over his face. He scowled and, in a flash of steel, felled the oíche.
“We need to find the wizard,” Edward said. “Time is running out.”
“I’m open for suggestions.”
The oíche were keeping them at arm’s length, not risking a full-out mob attack but rather dragging out the fight. Edward needed to clear the oíche out of the way so he and Dante could make a break for it. He looked around for something to give him an idea, but it was just a large warehouse with occasional I beam columns. It was empty.
He looked back at the closest I beam. “I have an idea, but it’s risky.”
“Well, don’t do it, then,” Dante said. “We’re much better off here.”
Hoping that was sarcasm, Edward hurled the flame from his hands at one of the I beams. The fire stuck and began to heat the metal. He waited a few seconds and hoped that was enough to soften the beam. Then he extended his hand, scraped together the meager power he had left, and focused it.
“Haearn!”
Rivets tore from the I beam supports and shot across the room like bullets, striking the oíche. There was a series of surprised, pain-riddled shrieks from the darkness. This time, only the tiny lights could be seen, but it was still satisfying.
“Um, I’d run.” Edward broke into a sprint for the far end of the warehouse.
Dante was right behind him, and then ahead of him as the building began to groan.
First one I beam collapsed, and a section of roof fell in. That stressed another I beam, and a chain reaction started. Dante and Edward ran, trying to keep ahead of the wave of destruction. The oíche fled, desperate to avoid the falling debris. When the collapsing stopped, both Edward and Dante turned around. There was a massive hole in the ceiling, and night sky shone through, moon and starlight illuminating the heap of broken and torn metal.
Edward let out a breath of relief.
The wretched sound of pained groans came from the pile of debris. It shifted and hands appeared, most trailing motes of light from dozens of wounds. The oíche began pulling themselves from the rubble, faces and bodies black and charred where the iron had burned them. They turned hate-filled eyes onto Edward and Dante.
“Go. Stop the wizard,” Dante said. “I’ll keep them off your back.” He drew the gold sword from his belt and handed it to Edward.
Edward just looked at him.
“I said go!”
Edward took the sword, but he didn’t know where to go. They’d reached the far end of the warehouse. He looked around and saw an elevated office at the corner. Letting down his guard for just a moment, he felt the pull of magic being drawn into it. He climbed the stairs as quickly as he could. When he reached the top, he was gasping for air, but he used his forward momentum to bash into the door with his good shoulder. Thankfully, it gave and flew inward.
He stumbled into the small room. All the furniture had been pushed clear of the center, where a huge circle was drawn in what he hoped was red paint. The metallic taste in the air told him it was probably blood. In the center of the circle was the crystal. On the opposite side of the circle from Edward, a man was getting to his feet. He had thick red dreadlocks that went to his shoulders. His skin was deep brown, and when he looked up, Edward could see that his eyes were two different colors, one blue and the other green.
“You’re too late, wizard,” Akhen said. “In moments, the ritual will be complete and the oíche will be free. I will have my payment, and this one will be mine.” The voice was deep, but it had a strange tone, as if he were speaking while breathing in instead of out.
“Tân!” A pathetic ball of fire coughed from Edward’s hand at the crystal. Pain lanced through his head, and he fell to his knees. The fire struck the circle’s invisible barrier and fizzled into nothingness. Edward cursed his stupidity, swallowed down the rising pain, and slowly got to his feet.
Akhen laughed. “You’ll hardly be worth the time it will take to kill you. Tenebrae!” Darkness swirled in the air and large black tentacles stretched out from it, reaching for Edward.
He dodged one and cut it down with the golden blade, which went through the tentacle and dropped it to the floor. Nothing but black goo remained. This minor victory, however, was short lived as the remaining tentacles reached for him. Moving first one way, then the other, Edward was able to avoid them. He slashed with the blade when he could, which wasn’t often. Leaping out of the way didn’t lend him many chances to strike back, and his strength was fading fast.
Akhen laughed, turned his attention back to the circle, and began chanting.
Inside the crystal, small orbs of light swirled faster and faster. It began to shake and melt away as if it was a candle.
Edward was drained, and even the coat wasn’t helping anymore. To top it off, the ointment was wearing off, allowing his pain to grow a little more intense each time he twisted, leapt, or moved too fast. He was running out of time, and his options were limited. Not to mention the fact that dodging black tentacles didn’t allow much time to think of an option. When the solution came to him, he wanted to kick himself for not doing it first. He waited, and when a tentacle shot forward to grab him, he spun and jumped toward the circle, blade extended to the crystal.
Pain so intense that everything went white ripped through his body as another tentacle, one he hadn’t seen, grabbed him around the torso. It squeezed his burned and torn flesh in a viselike grip. He screamed as his muscles convulsed, torment shattering the last of the ointment’s dulling effects. His vision began to fade from white to black, the iron grip on his stomach and chest mixing with the agony that kept him from drawing a breath.
“It looks as though I will have two wizards to dine upon this night,” Akhen said.
It dawned on Edward at that moment that his clen
ching muscles had kept him from dropping the sword. Clawing through the pain, he tried to seize control of his failing body. He forced his vision to clear. The room was a shadowy haze and dimming fast, but the circle was only a foot away, the crystal another two feet from that. He had only one chance.
Ignoring the pain, he drove the blade into the tentacle gripping him.
The sword passed through without resistance and the tentacle fell apart, releasing him. Edward sucked in a breath as he fell but was unable to move his hand. He landed on the blade, and half its length sank into him. A gasp escaped his lips as he felt warm fluid begin to spread over his chest and down his stomach.
Using nothing but willpower, he drew the sword out of himself and got to his knees. Sucking one last breath, he launched himself at the crystal, sword extended. Dante had told him that a circle protected against magic, but a mortal crossing over it would shatter it. He could feel it as he passed the edge, a soft but tangible tension that gave easily, like leaping through plastic wrap. The protections collapsed and the magic rushed out and dissipated.
Distantly, Edward heard Akhen scream in fury.
“Take that,” he said, or thought, he wasn’t sure which, and renewed hurt tore at him as he swung the blade at the crystal. The end of the sword made contact, knocking the crystal hard to one side. It flew from the circle. He cringed when it smacked against the wall, but it didn’t even crack.
Edward collapsed and struggled to draw in a breath that wouldn’t come. His shirt was soaked with his blood, and it was getting worse, fast. The pounding of his heart was so loud it drowned out all the other sounds, and it was slowing. His head rolled to one side, and he saw the crystal restore itself, the melting reversing until it was whole once more. The lights moving inside the crystal slowed and dimmed.
“Insolent worm!” a new voice said from Akhen’s mouth. “I will not be denied what was promised me!” Akhen threw his head back, and black smoke poured from his open mouth. The body collapsed to the ground, and the smoke coalesced into a massive form that was only remotely humanoid. Two familiar, burning red orbs floated in the smoke and shadow, staring at Edward. One massive hand of darkness reached over and grabbed him.
The sword slipped from Edward’s grip as torment ripped through him anew. He could only weep from the overwhelming torture, and pray for it to end soon. The last things he saw were dried and twisted vines growing up and over the crystal. There was a strong odor of damp earth as both the vines and the crystal vanished in a flash of black flame. It had worked. It was done.
There was only darkness and a sense of weightlessness as Edward was hurled through the air. Glass and metal smashed into his back and gave way as he fell through it. For a second, he found peace and comfort, but the tranquility shattered as his back hit concrete. His head bounced as he rolled across the floor, and somewhere distant, he felt something break.
Then all was quiet, except for his fading heartbeat and a ringing in his ears. The darkness reached out for him, but it didn’t matter, not anymore. He didn’t fight it this time.
It’s okay. I didn’t tell her how I feel, but she knows. No regrets.
He smiled as he thought of Caitlin at last knowing his true feelings for her. “I love you, Caitlin,” he said, and allowed himself to sink into darkness.
“Edward!” Dante shouted, but his voice was very far away. “Hang in there, don’t—”
All was silent and black.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
After some time of struggling to follow Brendan down the trail, Caitlin realized the sun had never changed position in the sky. After noticing her trouble keeping up, Brendan shortened his long strides. That made it easier for her to keep pace, but she was still gasping for air.
“Here we are,” Brendan said, pointing to the side of a hill several hundred feet away.
Caitlin sighed in relief. As they approached, she was able to make out exactly what Brendan had been pointing at. A door was set into a large boulder in the hillside. The rock looked like black granite, and the door was made of a wood that hadn’t aged well. Spiderwebs clung to the corner of the doorframe, and the metal ring used for a handle was a copper that had tarnished to green. The wood itself was warped and split.
“Rest for a bit before we go in,” Brendan said and sat down on a rock.
“Is it safe here?” Caitlin asked between breaths. “Isn’t this Fergus’s front door?”
“More like his front gate.” Brendan took off the pack. “He wouldn’t set foot in the noon lands without good cause. Queen Teagan herself would have to make an appearance then.”
“She would?” Caitlin sat down on another rock and caught her breath.
“Aye, it’s all about balance with fae.” He handed the last apple and half-empty bag of trail mix to Caitlin. “You should eat. We won’t have a chance once we’re in the Dusk Lands.” He took out the last two bottles of water and handed one to her.
They ate in silence, Caitlin her apple and trail mix, Brendan his beef jerky. She glanced at him as she drank her water. The change in his demeanor had been subtle at first, but it was obvious now. He was nervous, clearly, but deeper inside she could tell he’d resolved something. She just hoped she was wrong about what it was. She couldn’t let him give up hope.
“I do have reasons for not telling you about meself,” he said without looking at her.
“I’m sure. And it’s none of my business.”
“You’ve no doubt figured that I’m not just another mortal.”
Caitlin could tell he was struggling with the words. “You don’t owe me any explanations,” she said, her eyes focused on the ground. “After all you’ve done, I’ve no business asking anything else of you.”
“I’m just no use with people, you see?”
Caitlin felt her heart pound faster. She didn’t want him to make a confession to her. If he did that, it would mean her suspicions were right and make his decision real.
“I wasn’t cast out of the Fianna. It was an exile. I had to leave Ireland.”
A pang struck her. “Brendan, you can tell me this later, when all this is done.”
Brendan ignored her. “The fae were becoming more active in America, so I boarded a ship.”
“What about your family?”
“Me ma died in childbirth.”
The pain in his eyes was a familiar one.
“Me da,” he said. “Well, he was killed a long time ago, when I was just a lad.”
“Who raised you?”
“The other Fian,” he said. “They took me in. But when I got older, they saw that me ma and da had done something to make me, well, different. Special, they thought.” He sighed. “The Fianna didn’t see it that way, so they sent me packing. Truth of it is, I don’t know what I am.”
His voice was calm, and he said it all so matter-of-factly that her heart twisted even more. She must not have masked her reaction as well as she’d hoped, because he forced a slight smile to his face before continuing.
“It’s not so bad, yeah. I met up with Dante not long after I got to Boston. He’s annoying, to be sure, but a good sort through and through.” He chuckled, and a genuine smile came to his face. “He watched out for me like a brother.”
Caitlin’s heart ached for him, and she wanted nothing more than to hold him, to give him the comfort he clearly hadn’t had for a very long time. Comfort he probably denied himself intentionally. She wanted to but knew she couldn’t. He probably wouldn’t let her.
“The reason I’m telling you this,” he said, “is that things are like to get nasty in there. If it comes to it, getting Fiona out is all that matters.”
Caitlin swallowed and fought back tears as she nodded, hating that he’d actually said it out loud.
“If I tell you to go, you need to grab her and get the hell out. Right then, no questions, no arguments, and no he
sitation.”
“But—”
“You can’t be worrying about me, love. You need to get Fiona and use that seeking stone.” He pointed at it. “Use it and don’t look back. I’ll do me best to give you a clear path.”
“Brendan, I—”
“Damn it, Caitlin, would you just listen to what I’m saying for once? This isn’t a fecking story. It’s a lethal business we’re getting into. I’m prepared to do what it takes, and you need to be as well. Your daughter is what matters. I can take care of meself.”
The lump in her throat prevented her from saying anything. Up until now, she’d managed to put off thinking about what this might cost. She’d planned to deal with that cost, whatever it was, once she got Fiona back, but now—
“Look, love,” Brendan said, his voice softer. “I’m not eager for things to go wojus, but if they do, I need to know you’ll get well clear. Aye?”
She didn’t answer.
“Caitlin? Did you not hear me?”
“I heard you,” she whispered.
“You got it, then?”
She took a deep breath and nodded once.
“Say it. You need to say it.”
“I got it,” she said, the hint of a sob leaking through.
“Good.”
They sat in silence for several long, quiet moments.
Brendan stood up, put the empty bottle into the backpack, and pulled it on. “We need to get moving, then. We’re almost done.”
“Wait.”
She threw her arms around him and held him tightly.
For a moment, he just stood there. She didn’t care, she just held him: someone sure as hell should. At last, she felt his arms wrap around her and his chest move as he drew in a shuddering breath. A moment of peace, of comfort—that was the least she could give him.
The Stolen: An American Faerie Tale Page 26