What Dusk Divides

by Clara Coulson

  “I believe our first stop should be Camhaoir,” Orlagh said, sagging back against the wall. Now that the soldiers who’d turned against her were no longer present, she didn’t have to exude righteous fury to keep them in line, so she let an ounce of tiredness bleed through her strict Unseelie exterior. “Those fools were right about one thing: This will be a perilous journey no matter our approach. The old forests are filled with dangerous creatures and tricky magic beyond the understanding of even the sídhe, a toxic amalgam of remnants from the many bygone ages of Tír na nÓg.

  “It would be prudent to garner some additional manpower before we venture into such a fearsome place in search of one of the most fearsome beings who dwells within its shadows. I have some associates among the lower levels of the army brass who might approve so bold a mission, if I frame it in such a way that implies its success will raise their standing in the court but its failure will not harm their reputation.”

  “Are all your ‘associates’ in Camhaoir?” I asked, drumming my fingers on the armrest of my chair, trying not to look too unenthused at the prospect of returning to the place where I was born. Thanks to the memory I recovered after the sniper took a potshot at me—Tom Tildrum comforting me over my mother’s extended absence sometime in the months before I was kicked out of Tír na nÓg and dropped off at my dad’s house like a misdirected package arriving far too late—it was startlingly apparent that there was a lot more to Mab’s decision to appoint me as Abarta’s adversary than I originally thought.

  When this all started a year ago, I believed I was just a convenient option, a fairly skilled half-sídhe with a strong knowledge of faerie and Tuatha history in the right place at the right time. But between my mysterious new source of energy and the fact that Tom Tildrum, King of the Cats, of all people, had been some sort of minder to me as a child…Well, it was now quite clear that I was “special” in a way I really did not want to be.

  Drawing too much of Mab’s attention was a great way to get yourself killed, and it seemed like I was standing under a glaring spotlight with no way to shut it off. By traveling to Camhaoir, the capital of the Unseelie Court and the seat of Mab’s rule, I’d be walking even closer to that bright, burning bulb.

  Practically daring Mab to further entangle me in the complex web of subtle plots that made up her efforts to thwart Abarta without alerting this unknown enemy to the true nature of the threat he posed to the realm.

  Plots that had nearly gotten me killed several times already, along with many of my closest friends and allies.

  “I have associates all throughout the court, but the only ones who possess enough clout to provide us with the resources we need dwell in the capital, where all the power of the court congregates,” Orlagh replied, giving me a curious side-eye, wondering at my reluctance.

  She knew I thought poorly of the court, and that discontent was related to the way the palace had handled my exile. But given the immense drive to protect Kinsale I had consistently displayed, she found it strange that I was so hesitant to return to the city I had called home as a child.

  She didn’t have a grasp on my tangled relationship with Tildrum and Mab, on the memories of my unknown mother I’d been recovering in bits and pieces these past few months, or on just how much my exile, and the associated scrambling of my memories, had screwed me up. If we didn’t all die in our search for the Morrígan, or get wiped out by the Hunt if we failed to find a way to control it, then perhaps one day I’d discuss some of my personal issues with her over a beer or two at Flannigan’s.

  I wasn’t keen on being buddy-buddy with the sídhe, but Orlagh and Boyle, while they were a tad self-serving, like all Unseelie sídhe, seemed decent enough. Maybe the three of us could strike up some kind of mutually beneficial camaraderie.

  Couldn’t hurt to get on the good side of powerful people.

  As things stood now, I needed all the power I could get.

  “All right,” I said. “We’ll go to Camhaoir. But let’s try and make it a short detour.”

  Orlagh shrugged. “I am aware we have little time. I will act as quickly and efficiently as possible.”

  “On to the next question then,” Saoirse said. “Who’s actually going on this crazy adventure into the creepy forest?”

  I raised my hand with a flourish and pointed at my face. “Me.”

  Saoirse’s head snapped toward me. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You were just shot with an iron bullet. You must be weak and hurting.”

  “Firstly, it was an iron- tipped bullet. And secondly, this is my zany plan, so it’s my responsibility to see it through. Also, I already failed twice in a row to stop my enemies from setting off the summoning ritual. If I don’t redeem myself before the day is out, I won’t be able to look myself in the mirror anymore.”

  “Vince,” Saoirse said softly. “None of this is your fault.”

  “That’s debatable, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

  Saoirse sighed. “You need to stop punishing yourself for every bad thing that happens in this city.”

  “I would if M-A-B would stop putting the fate of the world on my shoulders.”

  Orlagh cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean by that exactly?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  Orlagh opened her mouth to press me further, but Saoirse cut her off. “Okay, so Vince is going. Who else?”

  “Me, obviously,” Orlagh said.

  “Me too,” Boyle threw in.

  A lengthy silence followed.

  Then Odette raised her prosthetic arm. “Fine, I’ll go. But if I lose my other arm, you’re getting me a new one, Whelan.”

  Indira tentatively raised her hand as well. “I think it would be a plus to have a Seelie scion in the group. You never know what you might need to set on fire in the deep, dark woods.”

  Mallory, squatting next to my bookshelf, said, “What about me, Captain?”

  “And me?” added Granger.

  Saoirse shook her head. “You two have solid skill sets, but you can put them to better use here. We’re already down enough Watchdogs as it is, and your leadership skills during this crisis so far have been exemplary. So I want you to keep doing what you’ve been doing, because we still have a long way to go until we get the situation in this city back under control.”

  Mallory and Granger said in unison, “Yes, ma’am.”

  All eyes in the room drifted to Drake, who had tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible by slinking into my kitchen and hiding behind my island after he relayed the information about the Morrígan.

  When he poked his head around the corner of the island and noticed we were all staring at him, he stammered, “Oh, no way. No way in hell. I am not traveling into the haunted forest to find some crazy war goddess who’s liable to kill us all and feed our corpses to the woodland creatures.”

  Orlagh raised one of her delicate eyebrows. “While you’re free to have any feelings on the matter that you wish, I’m convinced that bringing you along might be a boon for us.” She paused, and her lips twitched in distaste. “It’s rumored that there are a great many spirits and ghosts within the old forests, and your…

  particular skills may come in handy at some point.”

  I was impressed by Orlagh’s willingness to accept help from a necromancer. The sídhe loathed necromancy so much that most of them would refuse to entertain the idea of working in close proximity to someone who practiced the forbidden art; faerie logic did have failings like that from time to time, due to the quirks of socialization. But Orlagh was suppressing the disgust that had been drilled into her by sídhe society and designing her game plan based entirely on practicality.

  Drake had proven several times over today that his skills were useful in a wide variety of situations. So if we added him to our team, we’d have a fairly well-rounded fighting force. Two full-blooded Unseelie sídhe, one Unseelie half-sídhe, a lesser Seelie half-fae gifted at fire magic, a strong human witch with an

  a
ncient Tuatha conduit arm, and a dhampir necromancer? That was nothing to scoff at.

  But Drake was not having it. “I’ve risked my life enough for you guys today, and I’ve fulfilled any and all obligations I had to help you out. While I am willing to do a few good deeds here and there, like help with cleanup and triage and stuff, there is no fucking way that I am going to—”

  “I will attempt to use my influence in the court,” Orlagh interrupted, “to have you totally absolved of all the crimes for which you have been blamed.”

  Drake’s tirade sputtered out. “Uh, come again?”

  “I am the daughter of General Máire Maguire, who holds Queen Mab’s favor and frequently acts as her counsel,” Orlagh clarified. “If you help us save this world from the Wild Hunt, I will ask my mother to speak with Queen Mab on your behalf and request that your good works in favor of the Unseelie Court and its territories on Earth be used as justification to negate any guilt you may possess for crimes against the court in which you participated while under duress from your vampire father.”

  Drake stared at her, slack-jawed. “Are…Are you for real?”

  “I am sídhe,” she said simply. “I do not lie.”

  Drake thought about the offer for exactly two-point-five seconds.

  “Okay then. Sign me up for the field trip to the spooky forest.”

  Chapter Three

  Nine Hours Till Dusk

  While Orlagh and Boyle headed down to my basement to set up a portal that would spit us out near Camhaoir—the city’s powerful barrier prevented you from portaling directly there—everyone else paid another visit to my war room to restock on weapons and defensive measures.

  I grabbed two fresh shield bracelets and a few additional knives imbued with an assortment of helpful charms. I waffled a bit on whether or not to bring Fragarach along, as I didn’t want to run the risk of losing it to anyone in Tír na nÓg. But I ultimately decided to keep it sheathed at my side.

  Its truth-seeking magic was extremely potent, and I had a feeling that most of the creatures we might encounter in the old forests would be tight-lipped regarding the Morrígan’s whereabouts. We didn’t have time to play twenty questions, and we didn’t have the energy to duel countless beings into submission; Fragarach was a good alternative to both.

  Fragarach was also a perfectly serviceable sword, and I’d become modestly proficient at swordplay over the past few months. In a bind, I could always hack and slash, and hope for the best.

  While Indira and Odette were brainstorming which items would be of most use to them in Tír na nÓg, and Granger and Mallory were busy loading guns, I headed back downstairs to my former showroom.

  I’d left the wards deactivated after the big rush to my house to weasel answers out of Kennedy. While I didn’t think any vampires would risk trespassing in my house after I killed their boss and most of their number, I didn’t want to leave my house at risk for too long. There were still a few fires spitting spoke nearby, and the shouts and magic flares from active street battles were not much farther off.

  Complacency was what cost me my other house. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

  Saoirse was waiting for me in the showroom. Leaning against the front of the old checkout counter, she repeatedly scanned the length of smoky street visible through the wide display windows.

  A charmed handgun rested on the countertop within easy reach; it was the only thing she’d grabbed from my war room before making a quick exit. I’d thought she’d gone to the bathroom to freshen up afterward, but it seemed she’d come straight here to play guard duty.

  “You should be resting,” I said, circling the counter. “You’ve got a long day ahead of you, and you’ve already been through more than most could stomach in a year, much less one harrowing night.

  You should grab a power nap before you head out.”

  Saoirse hummed a low note of acknowledgement. “That’s not a bad idea, but I honestly don’t think I can make myself sleep right now. Too much weighing on me. Too much relying on me.”

  “If you don’t rest, you’re going to crash.”

  She unfolded her crossed arms, revealing an empty bottle that had contained one of Tori’s stim potions. She’d snuck into my bedroom and grabbed it from the goodie box of pilfered potions I’d left on my dresser. “I’ll last at least half a day more, and since we don’t even have that long to fix this problem, half a day is more than I need to stay on my feet.”

  I plucked the empty bottle from her fingers. “Look, Tori’s a gem and all, but potions like this are not good for human health.”

  Saoirse gave me a weary smile. “Would you chastise Odette for taking one? Or Granger? Or Mallory?”

  I averted my gaze. “You’re not any of those people. You’re…”

  “Old?” she said.

  I went rigid. “What? No, you’re not old. Hell, you’re not even middle-aged.”

  “I don’t know. Forty-four seems a bit over the hill for a person living in the post-apocalypse.”

  “Saoirse, you are not old.”

  “Well, I’m no spring chicken anymore, that’s for sure.” She chuckled dryly. “Sometimes, I feel like I can’t keep up with all you ‘young-ins.’ I swear, every Watchdog under forty, even the totally regular humans, seem to have discovered some source of boundless energy over these past six months.”

  “That’s the result of your good leadership,” I replied. “ You inspired them to try their hardest to protect the city, to give the project’s every operation their all.”

  She closed her heavy eyes. “Are you sure that you weren’t the inspiration? Because I’ve felt like I’ve been teetering on the edge ever since I got out of the hospital after that lovely vacation to Niflheim. And I would be amazed if my poor moods haven’t been dragging other people down with me.”

  “Poor moods?”

  I took an involuntary step back and looked at Saoirse. Really looked at her. Using eyes that could see with a level of clarity they had never possessed before today. Using a mind that could chip away at even the most elaborate of façades to reveal the true face beneath. Using a soul that was no longer restrained by the stifling glamour that had spent twenty years holding back its nature.

  Breaking my sixth and final glamour had elevated me to a state where I was much harder to deceive, especially when it came to reading people’s feelings and intentions. I had first used it to defeat Manannán—albeit temporarily—by pinpointing his weaknesses, and now I sought to use it for a very different purpose: to observe a side of Saoirse to which I’d been completely oblivious for half a year.

  Either she’d been actively concealing her struggles from me so as to not distract me from my own problems. Or I had been so laser-focused on stopping Vianu that I hadn’t noticed my best friend falling to pieces right in front of me. Because what I witnessed in those quiet seconds, with just the two of us standing in my former store, was nothing short of horrendous.

  Saoirse’s once proud posture had sagged, as if bearing a monumental weight. Her warm brown eyes had lost most of their luster, and the crow’s feet at their corners had deepened. Her

  smile was taut, like it was made of plastic, her muscles moving not because she wanted them to but because she felt an obligation to seem jovial. Her entire body, head to toe, exuded an aura that rode the border between despondency and hopelessness.

  Saoirse was depressed. And she had been since Rian fed on her life force in Niflheim. His gancanagh powers had seriously compromised her body chemistry, and he’d done so much damage that it still hadn’t normalized after all this time.

  That’s why she’s been so cynical lately, I realized, why her optimism faded away despite our successes with Project Watchdog.

  How could I not have noticed, when it’s been staring me in the face at every meeting, greeting me every morning at the factory, messaging me every night over our paired boards? How could I have been so fucking ignorant?

  “Jesus,” I hissed. “You s
hould’ve told me.”

  Saoirse’s eyebrows inched up. “Vince, I’m just venting some of my frustrations. I’ve been really stressed out lately, is all.

  There’s no need to freak out.”

  I grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face me. “Don’t lie to me. I can see right through it. You’re suffering from major depression, aren’t you? And you’ve been suffering in silence all this time because you didn’t want to risk damaging the stability of Project Watchdog.”

  Saoirse blinked in surprise. “How did you figure all that out from staring at me for seven seconds?”

  “Don’t turn this back on me.” I slid my hands up to her face and cupped her cheeks. “I’m not the one who needs help here.”

  “I’m not trying to turn this back on you. I do admit that I’ve been having some…emotional regulation problems.” She placed one of her hands over mine. “It’s just that I’m kind of confused. How exactly is it you can suddenly see through my ‘lies’?”

  My throat went dry. “Oh, well, you see, it’s a funny story, that.”

  Saoirse ran her hand down my arm and along my collarbone until her fingers found the glamour necklace hidden beneath my shirt.

  When she had last seen me yesterday, there had been two charms on the necklace. One contained my experimental variable mind glamour. The other contained the soul glamour I hadn’t broken in two decades. Now, the former was cold and dead, and the latter was gone—because I crushed it during my showdown with Manannán in Maige Itha.

  “You’re not wearing any glamours,” Saoirse murmured. “So this is Vincent Whelan completely unfiltered?”

  “Yes,” I said hoarsely. “This is me.”

  She looked me in the eye, searching for something that wasn’t there before. “It’s weird. I thought you’d be even more fae-like without any glamours, logical to a fault. I didn’t think you’d care about minor problems, like the personal struggles of one little human.”

  I shook my head. “Worrying about you is being logical, on some level, because your mental state is a lot more important than your depression has led you to believe.”