Icefall (19 page)

Again. And again.

I flirted for my country. I made so many passes I could have played prop forward in the Six Nations. Every night I went home and looked in the mirror and wondered what the hell was his problem and did I have permanent spinach between my teeth? Every night I only grew more determined. Every night I made sure I was first with the witty conversation.

Except for that one time.

That time, when I pulled up a barstool next to him, I didn't even get a chance to open my mouth. He put his elbows on the bar and his head in his hands. And I knew I had him, because behind his hands he was laughing.

‘You're wearing me down, Aileen.'

‘That's the idea.' Thrilled, I kissed his cheek and ordered drinks for the both of us. I snuck my arm round his waist and gave him an affectionate hug. A sister-ish, friendly hug. But I felt his muscles tighten, felt his breath sigh out, and I smiled.

‘I like you, Aileen,' he said, and drew his hands down his face. ‘But I'm not going to lie to you.'

‘Oh, go ahead and lie,' I said lightly. ‘I'm used to it.'

He didn't smile. He rested his jaw on his hand. ‘There's someone else. Someone I'm … with. See?'

I took a moment to think about that. It hurt, but then again, it figured. Of course he had someone. Look at him, for God's sake. Of course he wasn't drifting around unattached. If he wasn't with a woman already he was gay. Fact of life. So what?

‘It's a
woman,'
he said wryly.

Mind-reader. ‘Yeah? Where is she, then?'

‘Oh, she's far away. So far away.' He looked quickly at the bar, focused on the inverted bottles, pretended to read the labels. ‘She's in another country.'

‘Well,' I said, ‘I'm here.'

‘Yes. You are. There's no future in it. That's all.'

‘Yes, there is. Tonight's the future. Just now it is.'

‘And tomorrow it'll be the past. That's the thing about time.'

‘And tomorrow night,' I insisted, ‘will be the future again. Even tomorrow morning it will.'

‘Gods, you're even making me feel pissed.' He stood up, and wound his fingers into mine. ‘For now, then,' he said.

‘For now.'

*   *   *

I don't think my mother remembered much about the walk home. I was very aware of his hand, the warmth of it and the surging happiness, but the actual journey was a blur, jerky and disjointed. I did know

… I was barefoot again: I could feel the straps of my shoes in my other hand, the gritty coldness of paving stones and the painful roughness of tarmac as I walked. We talked. He laughed. I was on form. I was trying to impress him and I knew I was managing. I don't know what I said. I didn't remember. I was too happy.

The next time the memory was clear, he was standing there in my flat. He pulled his shirt off over his head, looking a little shy. I put the palms of my hands against his chest. Hard muscle, but badly scarred. Unbelievably badly scarred.

‘What happened to you?' I asked, shocked.

He shrugged. ‘Wear and tear.'

He was so tall. I came up to his collarbone, which was just right. I kissed his skin, touching my tongue to one of the white scars. He held my wrists, hesitated. ‘Aileen.'

‘My pals call me Ailie,' I said. ‘You can too.'

‘I probably would, love. I probably would.' He laughed, a high and oddly tormented sound. ‘I'll call you Aileen. Okay?'

‘Okay,' I said. ‘Whatever.'

He touched his fingers to my lips, then leaned into me and kissed me, and desire went through my body like flame on dry paper and

and my mother shoved me back just at the moment I jerked away. She gave a small gasp.

‘Stop,' she said. ‘That's enough. That's enough.'

‘Yes,' I said, taken aback. ‘Yes.'

‘Some things are private.' She looked quite severe. ‘And
very
inappropriate.'

‘Very.' Watching my mother, suddenly so prim, I laughed again, and took her hands. ‘Thanks.'

‘I did love him,' she said wistfully. ‘It wasn't just a fling.'

‘I know.'

‘And I think—I'm pretty sure he loved me.'

‘I know he did,' I said. I was sure of it. Not like he loved Eili. But he did love my mother and he would have loved me. Seth told me that. And he said if Conal had known about me, he'd have stayed.

‘What happened?' I blurted.

My mother's hands went limp in mine, and I let her go. ‘You happened, Hannah.'

‘He wouldn't have left,' I said desperately. ‘He wouldn't have left.'

‘Maybe not.' She shrugged, a touch of bitterness returning. ‘That isn't what I thought at the time. I had some experience, y'know.'

‘You never told Conal about me, did you?' She wasn't the only one who was bitter.

She sighed. ‘I knew he wasn't mine and he never would be. I wanted to keep you and I knew I wouldn't have him forever. I didn't want him to know I was leaving because I was pregnant, but even more, I didn't want to give him the chance to leave me. I couldn't have stood it.'

‘You wouldn't have had to!'

‘What do you know? I had my pride, Hannah, and I still do. It's worth keeping. I wanted Conal to think I was just dumping him. And that's what he thought. He was kind of relieved, you know. That means I made the right decision.'

‘He loved you…'

‘But he was still relieved. Because he loved that other woman more. You're young, Hannah. You'll learn.'

‘I hope not,' I muttered.

‘My pride was the only weapon I had.'

Weapon?
I shook my head in disbelief. All the same, I felt a flash of pity. Maybe I'd never met him but I knew him better than she ever had. I knew him through Seth, and Sionnach, and Finn. I knew him through his goddamn
horse.
And for the first time I was angry with him. Angry? I was livid.

Why didn't you look in her head, Dad? You broke her heart and you broke mine too. You and your precious scruples. You could have known, you should have known, but you wouldn't violate her precious privacy. Was that it?

Misery crept up on my anger. Maybe there was something else. Maybe he couldn't read her. Maybe she was so damn bolshie he couldn't See past it.

No. Not my dad. My dad was strong.

Finn was strong, and she couldn't See past Lauren's shuttered mind …

I shook my head violently. I couldn't bear the contradictions any more. At the moment I thought it, the door creaked open and Finn was there.

‘Perhaps that's enough moving pictures for today,' she said.

‘Yes,' said Aileen, staring at me. ‘Yes. I'm sorry, Hannah. Honest I am.'

‘I know,' I said, setting my jaw. ‘Thanks, Mum. I mean that too.'

It was funny, watching my mother try to sidle past Finn without touching her. It wasn't like she was repelled or anything; just as if she was afraid Finn might suck her in if she touched her, absorb her and obliterate her. She knew I'd been sucked in, that she'd never have me back. Tears burned behind my eyelids and suddenly I needed Rory, desperately.

Still, Mum hesitated in the hallway by Finn. She took a breath, changed her mind, then changed it again and took another breath.

‘Seth,' she said. ‘Him and Conal. They must have been close. About the same age?'

Finn didn't seem sure how to tackle that one. There was hardly time to explain to my mother about the age thing.

‘Well,' she said. ‘Close, yes. But Seth was a lot younger.'

‘Really? He seems…'

‘Much
younger. If you think about it. Conal died sixteen years ago.'

‘Well, yes, I see that.' Mum blushed. ‘Sorry. My mistake. I just thought … well. Seth's quite a bit older than you.'

Finn gave a half-laugh that died on her lips. She frowned. ‘What?'

‘Well, Seth's—I just thought—he looks the same age Conal would have…' Mum fell silent under Finn's febrile stare.

Finn forced another laugh, high and scratchy.

‘He's been under a lot of strain.' Her voice was cold, like a glacier. You wouldn't want to get in its way. ‘He's older than me, but actually? He's famous for looking younger.'

‘Course.' Mum's cheekbones were dark with embarrassment. ‘I'm sorry. Sorry. None of my business. No offence.'

‘None taken.' Finn's tone was clipped. She opened the door. ‘Come back any time. Hannah?'

‘Yes,' I said, shaking myself. ‘Yes, Mum. Please do.'

I ought to step forward and kiss her cheek. Hug her or something. But we weren't quite there yet, and Finn standing guard like a malevolent gorgon didn't help. I smiled at Mum, turned away, and went up to my room for a private cry.

 

Rory

He was trapped under a dead horse and he was damned if he could get out before the Russian shot him from behind. He wasn't even sure he cared enough to try. When his avatar spattered the screen yet again with a cloud of virtual blood, Rory chucked his controller to the floor with a grunt of frustration.

If Lauren were here, she could kill the Russian and give him time to get out from under the horse. She knew this game better than he did and she could get him all the way through this bloody level, if she hadn't wandered off yet again.

The girl was way too good at giving her minders the slip. Finn and Orach and Sorcha were too used to monitoring people with nothing but their minds, and Finn for one was too inclined to give Lauren
space.
In Rory's opinion, they were giving her so much space she'd drift into another solar system.

Rolling onto his back on the bed, he reached idly for the Veil. It caught between his fingers, soft and delicate, and he ran the invisible fabric across the back of his hand. One moment it was like silk, the next like smoke. One moment he could take gentle hold of it; the next it slid from him and curled round his skin as if it was playing with
him
. It was alive, he knew that. An old thing, fragile and desiccated and frayed, but still alive. He ran his palm across its frail softness. It was an old friend; almost part of him. He wanted to mend it. He was pretty sure it wanted to be mended.

He just didn't know how.

~
I'm sorry,
he told it.

A shrill ringing startled him, almost making him rip the Veil by mistake. For a horrible instant Rory couldn't think what it was—a smoke alarm?—before remembering they had a doorbell. It was just that nobody ever used it.

He rolled off the bed, curious, and was halfway downstairs before Seth intercepted him.

‘Don't answer it! It's a god-botherer.'

‘A what?'

Finn had come to the foot of the staircase. ‘Your father's paranoid. Thinks it's the Inquisition when it's some harmless local minister.'

Hairs stood erect on Rory's neck. ‘Why would the god squad want to see you, Dad?'

‘They'll take what they can get?' The bell shrilled again. ‘Don't, Rory! You'll only encourage him.'

‘Dad,' scowled Rory. ‘He isn't going away, you know. I'll get rid of him.'

‘Rory…'

‘Dad, grow up.' Ignoring his father's growl, Rory jogged downstairs and pulled open the door.

‘Jehovah's Witnesses?' said the minister.

The grin in the shadow of the hat brim was a wide one, empty and horrible. As the head tilted slowly up to face him, Rory felt a bolt of nausea in his stomach, and cold fear in the nape of his neck. He made a sound of disgust, and made to slam the door on the skeletal thing. A foot jammed the door wide faster than he could react. Behind him he heard Seth draw a blade, and his father reached for his shoulder and yanked him aside.

‘Ah-ah-ah!' The minister wagged a thin finger. ‘My business is the saving of souls. I thought you'd like to talk about that.'

The voice was as thin as its owner, husky like dead leaves. As Seth's blade touched the raised throat warningly, the minister smiled and proffered a business card.

‘Murlainn,' rasped the Lammyr, sweeping its hat from its cadaverous head. ‘We need to talk.'

 

Hannah

I was the last to hear about the unexpected guest. By the time I'd washed my face and stuck a cold flannel on my red eyes and made myself presentable enough to go downstairs, everybody else had had the newsflash. Served me right for sulking behind a block for an hour, and it wasn't as if anyone could tell me calmly and intelligibly what had happened. Far as I could make out, there was internecine warfare breaking out in the kitchen.

Jed was the only one who wasn't yelling. He sat silent on the arm of Iolaire's chair, filing his nails, but he watched them all intently. I couldn't quite make out the expression on his face—angry, grief-stricken, indifferent?—but there was no mystery to the others' opinions.

Sorcha was deeply engaged in a verbal scrap with Braon. Orach had an arm round the cook Sulaire, but she was trying to intervene in the other girls' catfight, and she kept having to raise her voice higher. Sulaire looked as if he was going to burst into tears, but that was Sulaire for you. In his worst moments all he wanted was a bacon sandwich, but he couldn't get near the stove for Grian and Finn, who seemed on the verge of blows.

‘Cuilean,' Grian barked at Jed, ‘talk some sense into your blood brother!'

Jed pushed back a cuticle. ‘I have no opinion. Leave me out of it.'

‘That's shit and you know it!'

And then Iolaire was on his feet too of course, yelling at Grian.

All I could make out was that Seth had been locked in his study with a Lammyr for forty-eight and a half minutes; and fifteen seconds later Braon was looking at her watch again. Grian wanted to break the study door down and kill it; of course Finn wouldn't let him.