A Hollow in the Hills (24 page)

‘Samhain? Halloween? Isn’t it already Samhain?’

‘The day, yes, but not quite the hour. The time when the veils are at their thinnest. When the Sídheways are most malleable. When the door to the land of the dead stands open and anyone may enter. We shouldn’t waste time.’

Up ahead, the mist was getting thicker. Clodagh and Dylan stopped with Blight in front of them. No one moved.

Izzy had a bad feeling. ‘How far is the next gate?’

‘Not far. In the Castle grounds.’

She shook her head. ‘Too far to run then?’

‘Why?’

She pointed. Something was coming out of the mist, something fluid and shadowy that drifted from place to place. The temperature plummeted and left them shivering, teeth chattering. The rain got heavier, drops splashing in puddles, throwing up sparks into the night.

‘There are seven of us. Stay together.’

But Izzy wasn’t listening to Reaper now. His voice was just a whisper behind her. The world shifted, becoming less real, less solid. Or maybe that was her. She felt dizzy, vague. Not
herself.

Up ahead, the Fear swirled out of the mist, bearing down on Clodagh and Dylan. Blight and Blythe crouched low, every muscle alert and poised.

But it was clear that they were terrified. How could they not be? They were creatures of instinct.

‘Get away from them!’ The voice rang out behind her and before she knew what was happening, Jinx leaped by her. She moved after him, afraid that something would happen to him, that somehow she’d lose him again. And she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

‘Izzy?’ Clodagh said, and her voice strained almost to the point of breaking. ‘Izzy, this isn’t good, is it?’

Izzy could hear it in her voice. Fear. That was it. What these creatures thrived on and all they wanted, the other origin of their name.

‘No. Just don’t panic. Don’t be afraid. That’s what they want.’

‘Seriously?’ Clodagh gasped, barely able to get the word out. ‘Shite advice.’

She tried to force herself to be still, to concentrate on the fire inside her, the birthright from Brí that sometimes worked and sometimes – most of the time – didn’t. It was all she had. And when she faced them it seemed stronger. She had to believe that.

The figures in the mist coalesced, forming a solid mass. More of them than Izzy had ever seen and at their fore, the king. Eochaid.

‘Isabel Gregory,’ he hissed, drawing out the ‘z’ sound in her name like a curse. ‘Lady Holly sends her greetings. She bids you come.’

‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’

‘Then your friends die. They die screaming.’

‘Don’t listen to him, Izzy,’ said Dylan. And then one of the Fear was on him. It seized him by the throat and dragged him to his knees, turning him around to face her. Long, clawed hands ran over his face and neck, threaded through his hair until he was gagging on unvoiced screams. His eyes strained from the sockets, the pupils pinpoints and his mouth opened too wide in a silent scream, too terrible to escape from his tortured mind.

‘He’s strong. Amazingly strong. A unique mind. How much can he stand, do you think?’

‘Let him go.’

Eochaid stretched out his hand, slowly unfurling long bony fingers in enticement. ‘Come with us.’

‘Not on your life,’ said Jinx.

‘Jinx by Jasper,’ the king of the Fear laughed. ‘So strong, so bold. Remember though, we’ve seen inside your head and your heart already. You belong to her.’ Jinx glanced at Izzy and Eochaid laughed. ‘No, not her. To Holly, you fool.’

‘No, I don’t. Never.’

‘You don’t have a choice in this, boy. You know that in your heart of hearts. Holly’s magic is already upon you. The Shining Ones are already inside you. You heard the angels and they
don’t lie, do they?’

Angels never lied. Izzy sucked in a breath. They’d promised Silver her voice – given it to her in advance of payment, so sure of their success. They wanted Jinx. Everyone did.

‘Why?’ Izzy asked. ‘Why does Holly want me, when everyone else wants Jinx?’

They laughed, all of them. Snide and knowing snickers echoed around them.

‘Not Holly. Us.
We
want you. Only the child of Míl can free the king of the Fear. Your strength is my strength. And if you are ours already … well … I’ll walk free and live forever, won’t I?’

‘Let me go and I’ll show you how cooperative I can be.’ Her hand itched to plunge into her bag. She only had to get her hand on the knife and she’d kill him all right. In a moment.

‘
Ah-ahhhhh
,’ he sighed. ‘You can try. But not with that knife. Pretty though it is, it won’t kill me. The Blade that Cuts, on the other hand …’

He saw the understanding in her eyes and his own expression turned dark with malicious glee.

‘Why would you tell me that?’

‘You won’t use it. The Blade can only be used to do one thing or the other – to kill or to cure. Not both. Not for you. Once the choice is made … well …’ He smiled, baring his yellowed teeth, more like a snarl. ‘And you need it for something … and someone else.’ He leered at her, at Jinx. ‘Are you prepared to pay that price, little girl?’

‘I will do what I must.’ But she swallowed hard. It was true, she didn’t want to sacrifice anyone, especially not Jinx. The Blade was one shot only! No one had bothered to mention this before. Just all that sword of light bull. Bloody Sídhe.

She’d killed herself, or tried to, to get rid of Sorath. She’d tried to sacrifice herself. But that was different. That was her choice, her decision. She wouldn’t give up someone else – Mum and Dad, Jinx, Dylan or Clodagh? No, never.

‘Will you, indeed? Very noble. Just what I’d expect from a child of Míl.’

‘Stop calling me that.’

Eochaid reached out, his cold hand resting tentatively on her skin. She shivered, terrified, but it wasn’t the same sort of smothering panic she’d felt before. This was sharp and painful with clarity.

‘Daughter of Míl,’ he sneered. ‘Where is your fabled strength now?’ His eyes flickered, following movement behind her. ‘Come no closer Cú Sídhe, or she will see you die screaming before she follows you to a cold oblivion.’

‘What do you want from me?’ she managed to say.

His fingertip traced an icy trail along her neck and the tattoo on the back turned even colder. ‘What do we want?’ The laughter of the other Fear whispered around her, across her skin like cobwebs. Her hair rose on end and her chest tightened around her skeleton, tight and painful. ‘This was our land before you came, and before the Sídhe came. Ours. And when they came we helped them. We made a deal, just as you
made a deal. We were part of the Compact, part of the defeat of the Shining Ones. We betrayed our gods for you and your friends. One of us to cage them – you or me. I mean to see that it will be you. After all these millennia, it’s only fair. And we will have vengeance on the de Dannan and on their pawns too. All of them. Holly promised us that.’

‘Holly lies all the time. She’s never kept her word, or if she has it has been twisted beyond all recognition.’ Jinx again, trying in spite of Eochaid’s warning. Izzy heard him draw in a brief gulp of air before the Fear struck. With a thud, he hit the pavement and then he screamed. Not high and sharp. Not a scream of terror or panic. This was wrenched from him, forced between clenched teeth and given only after there was nothing left to stop it.

Eochaid turned Izzy around, keeping his hand at her throat. Jinx lay on the ground, pinned there by mist and violent hands.

Dylan and Clodagh were struggling against their captors. Reaper stood back, arms raised to the level of his eyes, which darted from side to side, looking for an out. Blight and Blythe were unconscious. Whatever it had taken for the two of them to be beaten down, Izzy didn’t want to think about it. The faint and frantic stirring of their chests as they breathed betrayed the nightmares wrapped around them. They were helpless.

And she was on her own.

Jinx’s gaze met hers, broken and angry, filled with despair. He was in so much pain. She could sense it like her own.

‘Let him go,’ said Izzy.

‘He’ll be the death of you,’ said another voice, a female voice filled with amusement. Not in the position to feel amused at anyone or anything right at this moment, Izzy scowled, knowing that voice. Recognising it right away. ‘Give him up, Isabel Gregory.’

‘Never.’

‘Ah, well,’ said Ash. ‘It was worth a shot. Your father said you knew what to do. I hope he’s right.’

Light burst from her fingertips. Bright white light. She opened her mouth and it was like listening to a choir, to a multitude of choirs. The Fear screamed, their voices warped in dissonance, breaking through the beauty of Ash’s song.

Izzy felt the fire inside her flame up at last, the fire quenched and dwindled almost to embers by terror flamed fresh and new, terrible in its brightness. It almost stopped her heart, as if it was burning away inside her but that didn’t matter.

Fire had worked on them before. It was the only thing that had worked. She called it, her birthright from Brí, her natural mother’s only real gift to her.

Flames burst from her pores, caressed her in a warm embrace, wrapping her in golden light while the Fear screamed and retreated. What must she look like to the people coming out of the bars and theatres, the people in town to party or late finishing work? To the bus that screeched to a halt, to the driver blaring their horns. But if she didn’t … if she couldn’t
stop them … the Fear would destroy them all.

Happy Halloween
, Izzy thought bleakly and let herself burn.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Black Pool

T
he Fear released Jinx and retreated, rushing away from Izzy’s fire and the angel’s song like startled cats. He heaved in a breath, and another, and then forced himself to stand. His treacherous body trembled and shook, wanted to collapse and sob out his terrors. But he couldn’t allow that. Not while Izzy was in danger. Not while—

He tried to reach her but the fire was too hot. He could see her in the flames, like Brí, engulfed in them, but untouched, her red hair flowing out around her head, lifted by the heat and the boiling air, her eyes so bright it hurt. She was looking at him. Just staring straight at him. But he knew she couldn’t see him.

Lost. His Izzy. Lost in flames and darkness. And alone.

It was like the hill all over again, the hill and the Wishing Stone and Sorath consuming her, controlling her. But this
time she was lost in her own power, her own magic. And if she couldn’t lose him, he couldn’t lose her either. Not again. Words he couldn’t say reached up from deep inside him with needy grasping hands, but he still couldn’t give them voice.

‘Izzy,’ he cried instead and reached out for her. The fire licked against his hands, blistering him, hurting him, but he didn’t care. He grabbed her hands and pulled her towards him, embracing her and the fire that was part of her.

It died before it consumed him. Her skin felt warm and damp, as if she had a fever. She blinked at him and then pulled him the rest of the way into her arms.

‘Are you okay?’ Her voice sounded hoarse and exhausted. ‘Jinx, please, tell me you’re okay.’

‘Yes. I am. Are you? What happened? Izzy …’ She didn’t answer, and his alarm escalated again. He stared at her but she just stared into the middle distance. ‘Izzy, talk to me.’

Her magic terrified him. There was no getting away from that. It was too powerful. When it flowed through her like that, he feared he’d lose her completely.

She blinked, the little sparks in her eyes fading now. ‘I … I’m okay. I think I … oh, God, Jinx! Your hands!’

The skin was black in places, violent red in others, blistered already. The pain hadn’t hit yet, but he knew it would. Jinx knew burns. And even magical fire burned.

‘It’ll fade.’ A lie, but the dismay in her eyes was too much to bear. He couldn’t make it worse.

Izzy held his wrists gingerly, turning his palms up.

‘We have to do something. Get you to a doctor or—’

‘What doctor would see me, Izzy?’

He tried to smile and the first wave of agony hit. He bit on the inside of his cheek and tried to ride it out. But from the look on her face he failed.

‘What if I get some water? Maybe I can—’

‘Leave it.’ He sighed as the pain receded a little.

‘How will you play?’ she asked.

It seemed like such a non-sequitur that he stared at her in silence, unable to understand what she meant.

‘Play? Play what?’

‘The guitar.’

For a moment he didn’t know what to say. In all this, she thought about his guitar? His music, which had once meant more to him than anything else in his life. He’d thought of it as his one freedom.

He shook his head. ‘I haven’t played since … since … I left you. Silver had no voice, and Sage and the others were dead anyway. There were so many other things to do …’

He hadn’t even thought of playing guitar as any more than a half-remembered dream, forgotten in the harsh light of a new reality.

Reality without Izzy.

There had been no need for music. No chance of joy.

There were tears in her eyes now, glistening like dew. They hadn’t fallen, but caught on her long lashes. Realising he’d seen them she turned her face away.

‘Ash?’

The angel stood several feet away with Dylan and Clodagh, talking gently to them, making sure they were okay, Jinx realised. At least her attention was off him for a moment.

Just a moment until Izzy called it back.

‘Please,’ Izzy said. ‘Help him?’

Ash tilted her head to one side. ‘Why would I do that? I’m here to retrieve him. To hunt him, I believe you thought.’

‘He’s in pain. And if you’re hunting us—’ She stressed the ‘
us
’, ‘—then why come alone?’

A brief smile flickered over Ashira’s dark features, wry amusement making her eyes sparkle. ‘Well, yes, there is that. All right.’ She walked towards them, but Jinx pulled back. Only Izzy’s grip stopped him bolting altogether. ‘Don’t fret, fae. I won’t hurt you.’

‘Much,’ he added bleakly and that strange smile quirked her lips again.

‘I came because I value reason over force. My brethren can be rash. Zadkiel is an angel of battle and that’s all he understands. I try to work with them, but I’m not so good as part of a host. They don’t entirely trust guardians because we spend so much time with mortals. And when I try to introduce new ideas I get that look. It’s maddening. Plus, he doesn’t know you, Izzy. Not like I do.’

‘And how do you know me?’

‘Better than you think. I know, for example, that if someone tries to command, bully or force you one way, you’ll go
in the other as fast as possible. I know that your friends mean everything to you. I know how much you love Jinx. And how much he loves you. Whether that’s wise or not.’

She took Jinx’s hands from Izzy, her grip firm but not uncomfortable. She had the hands of a fighter. He could feel callouses from handling weapons. But her touch was cool, almost like polished stone. He flinched in spite of himself as she closed her eyes and her lips moved, though he heard no sound. A prayer or a spell, he wasn’t sure if it made a difference.

‘What are you?’ asked Izzy. ‘My guardian angel? Because if you are you totally suck at the job.’

That smart mouth of hers again … He’d never tire of that. He could hear the nerves and tension it masked but he’d bet few others would.

Ash’s expression didn’t change. If anything the subtle smile warmed further. Maybe the angel appreciated her too.

‘You’re still alive, aren’t you?’

‘So where were you on the hill with Sorath?’

‘I’ll repeat my previous question.’

‘You’re impossible.’

‘Yes.’ Ash released his hands and pressed her palm against his cheek. He flinched that time, surprised at the unexpectedly tender gesture. ‘We’re well matched, Izzy and I.’ And to his further surprise she winked. ‘They say a guardian becomes like their charge, or a charge like her guardian.’

‘I think you’ll find that’s dogs and their owners,’ said Clodagh
in a dry tone. ‘The problem is, we still can’t trust you.’

Ash turned to face her, startled, perhaps even dismayed. ‘Why not?’

‘You lied to us. Hid who you were. Pretended you knew nothing about … all this.’

‘Would you have believed who I am?’ She took a step nearer to the girl. Angry and defiant, Clodagh didn’t move. ‘We
all
hide things about ourselves.’

Clodagh lifted her chin. ‘Not something that important.’

Ash looked around at each one in turn, before looking back at Clodagh. ‘We all hide things. Please, I only did what I thought I had to do. I had no idea Zadkiel would demand Jinx in that way, or of any of his plans. I thought we could undo what has been done to him, or at least try to find a way. I thought, if we worked together—’ She spun back, impossibly graceful. She’d be a formidable fighter, Jinx thought, fast and merciless, insightful. If she had wanted to kill him he would be dead already. She didn’t play games. ‘—but it seems I was overruled. So that’s that.’

‘You ignored him.’

‘Yes. I do things like that.’

And she had spoken up for him at the Long Stone, earning a blow for her pains. Zadkiel had admonished her. He could see the mark on her face and jaw, already purple. It would fade soon. Angels healed even faster than the fae.

He glanced down at his hands. They didn’t hurt anymore, but the skin was still dark, as if all the ink in his tattoos had
run together, coating his skin. For a moment the image stirred a memory, of the Púca’s black, clawed hands on his shoulder. They weren’t unalike. That thought chilled him.

‘I think you should go,’ said Izzy, her jaw set and determined.

‘I’ll only follow you. It’s my duty. Since the summer.’

‘I won’t let you take him from me.’

‘I understand that. Though I think it’s a terrible mistake. We could keep him safe, out of harm’s way. But I will protect you, whether you want me to or not. I am your guardian. Besides, I have nowhere to go back to. Zadkiel has cast me out for insubordination, for speaking on
your
behalf if you recall. So here I am.’

‘Let her stay,’ said Jinx suddenly, only aware that it was his voice when the words came out. Because, for some impossible reason, he believed her. ‘Please, Izzy …’

‘But—’

He reached out for her and she took his hand tentatively, as if testing it really was healed in spite of appearances.

‘Are you sure, Jinx?’ asked Dylan.

‘Yes.’ His gaze met the angel’s and he was surprised to read relief there and gratitude. Nothing angelic had ever looked at him that way before – maybe there was more variety among them than he’s thought. In fact, few beings had ever shown him kindness of any kind, other than those already around him. Izzy and Dylan … and Silver, although he didn’t dare to hope that would still be the case.

The thought of losing Silver stabbed inside him. She’d been more to him than an aunt. She’d been like a mother and her kindness for so long had been the only kindness he knew. Now, with Zadkiel’s promise, he had to assume that was gone.

He might still hope, but he needed to smother that. Hope was for the naïve when it came to the Aes Sídhe and the things they wanted.

‘We should go,’ he told Reaper who watched all this impassively. ‘All of us.’

Donn’s servant bowed his head. ‘Very well. If he will allow the angel to enter his halls, of course. If not … well, the gate isn’t easy to pass though if not. And if he does welcome you in, Ashira, you will face the same thing as the rest. You will have no power there, no strength. You’ll be as a mortal. There is a real chance you will not leave.’

The Chester Beatty Library housed treasures from all human history and a few Sídhe things that it shouldn’t, or so Silver said. Dylan knew it well, had wandered its exhibition rooms soaking up the unexpected peace and inspiration found there. He’d sat in the sunny roof garden composing in his head but he had never thought about it at night. They got there through the old castle gate by the City Hall, looked down on by the edifice of the Sick and Indigent Roomkeepers Society building, and office blocks without the souls of the earlier buildings.
They passed the gothic Chapel Royal, through cobbled yards, walking into the garden where brick paths wound like snakes through the manicured grass.

‘They’re meant to be eels,’ said Reaper. ‘People think the original Black Pool that gives Dubh Linn its name was here. It wasn’t though.’

‘So where was it?’ Clodagh asked. But he ignored her. They were all doing that. Dylan knew it wasn’t wise. Clodagh noticed a lot more than they gave her credit for. Sídhe arrogance, perhaps. It maddened him.

Reaper pointed at the library building – half old Georgian, grey with regimented windows, half modern steel and glass.

‘It’s locked.’

‘Is it? Oh dear, silly me.’ The Sídhe spoke without a trace of humour. ‘We’re talking about using the very first gateway the Sídhe ever created, the one all Dubh Linn was named after. But let’s just give up because of a few human locks, will we?’

‘It is forbidden, that gate,’ Ash interrupted.

‘So are a lot of things,’ Reaper replied coldly. ‘Like you being here with us, probably.’

Even before dawn stained the sky the city was starting to come back to life around them.

‘We don’t have time,’ said Jinx. ‘What about the security?’

‘I have an arrangement with security.’

‘Do you have an arrangement with monitoring systems, locks, shutters, the Gardaí and electronic alarms?’ asked Clodagh.

‘Aren’t you the smart aleck, Clodagh?’ Reaper gave her the broadest smile. ‘Of course.’