Icefall (3 page)

‘What's that?' he said. There was fear in his hoarse voice.

Rory couldn't spare him an answer. The gap in the Veil couldn't be more than a metre long, but I could just make out its distorted shadow where the weak sunlight caught it. It sagged inwards, bulging, like it was going to rip further.

I'd never felt anything like it, not in all the many times it had given way to Rory. It
always
obeyed him, but now I had a feeling the Veil had rebelled for the first time. You'd almost think that at its heart, caught in the membrane, there was a trapped darkness that wanted out.

I'd never been afraid of the Veil between the worlds, never. Even the first time Rory tore it for me, four summers ago that felt like decades, I'd been only gobsmacked, and mistrustful, and rationally angry. I'd never felt this lump of fear in my belly. Whatever the darkness was, it didn't fascinate me. I only wanted it gone, but I was terribly afraid it
wouldn't
go. The gap yawed, sagged further, stretched like a living thing.

We'd taken it by surprise. The Veil, I mean. The thought struck me, unexpected and bizarre. We'd woken something that hadn't expected to wake; it had been disturbed unawares, but it wasn't ready to explode from its restraining membrane.

And just as well,
was my instinctive thought.

Rory dragged the edges together and stood rigid, clutching the gap shut. I couldn't so much see that it was closed as sense it, because the strange coldness was gone like a sigh.

It seemed an age before Rory loosened his fingers and stepped back.

I took a breath to say
And what are we going to do with the dead tart now,
but I never got the chance. Rory reached out, almost thoughtlessly, and tore the Veil again.

It ripped like gossamer. He used a light forefinger and he didn't even have to take a breath.

I gaped at him, but Sionnach wasn't struck dumb. He grabbed the dead woman's arm and hauled her to the new rip in the Veil, bundling and shoving her through. Getting a hold of myself, I helped him, pushing the woman's dangling foot through the gap as Sionnach threw her sword after her. With no fuss at all, Rory clasped the Veil's edges and sealed it, and she was gone.

*   *   *

The three of us were panting for breath, staring at the space she'd filled, when the air was shattered by a tinny blast of unidentifiable R&B.

Sionnach turned. The music died abruptly; a phone clattered to the paving stones. As we gaped, a manicured hand shot round the corner to grab for it.

Nonchalantly Sionnach took a pace closer and trod hard on the hand. There was a yelp of angry pain as he bent to pick up the phone, turning it in his hand, thumbing the touchscreen with interest
.

‘Come out,' he said. ‘Lauren.' He tilted an eyebrow at me.

‘Aw, hell,' muttered Rory. I swore more creatively.

She stumbled to her feet, clutching her bruised hand, glaring at all three of us. Not a muscle of Sionnach's face moved now, and I thought:
Uh-oh.
When his hand went to the hilt of the short sword hidden inside his leather jacket, Rory put a hand on the man's arm. Sionnach scowled.

I forced a smile. ‘Hi, Lauren.'

Rory's breath sighed out of him. ‘Sionnach, watch where you're putting your feet. Y'okay, Lauren?'

‘Fine,' she spat.

‘What did you just see, Lauren?' asked Sionnach.

‘Nothing. Like I'd be interested. I wasn't even looking.'

‘Really?'

‘You broke my best nail.' She folded her arms aggressively. ‘Although that's nothing compared to you dragging that wom—'

This time Rory had to shove in front of Sionnach, seize his jacket, and pull it back across the emerging blade. He gave Lauren a tight smile. ‘The drunk one?'

‘The—'

‘Drunk one,' I said.

‘She didn't look drunk to—'

Sidestepping Rory, Sionnach offered Lauren her phone back, his lips tightening in an almost-smile. The girl just stood there, glowering nervously.

Sionnach's unconvincing smirk stayed in place as he thrust the phone forward again. I knew he was still wondering if he ought to kill Lauren, so this time I shouldered him sideways. Now Rory and I together were blocking him quite efficiently, but I knew the man could snake past us fast enough if he felt like it.

‘In the middle of the afternoon and all,' said Rory. ‘Dead. Drunk.'

Lauren eyed us, mistrust fairly oozing out of her. ‘Where did she go?'

‘I dunno.' Rory shrugged and pointed hopefully at the grubby stained-glass window of the nearest pub. ‘In there? Gosh, I hope she doesn't come back!'

Oh, very convincing. Not. I gave Lauren my sweetest smile. ‘I'm sure she won't be back.'

I knew fine Lauren wasn't even half-convinced, but Sionnach hadn't taken his eyes off her. Working on the girl's brain, just like Rory. Between the pair of them, Lauren didn't stand a chance. At last she rolled her eyes and blew out a sigh.

‘Stupid drunk.' She nibbled crossly at her ragged nail. ‘She made me break my best—'

‘Well,' said Rory. ‘All over. Want to come back with us? Have a go on my Xbox?'

~
Rory.
Sionnach had stiffened, and he was giving him the kind of glower that used to be reserved for when Rory was a young brat and had a habit of running away.

~
Sionnach,
said Rory, glaring back. ~
It's not a problem.

~
Yes. It is.

I'd have backed Sionnach up, but I was unnerved. ~
Sionnach, she saw something. We can't just let her—

~
Live?

~
Sionnach!

But Lauren heard none of that. She was still watching Rory with narrowed eyes. ‘Have you got
Grand Theft Auto
?'

‘No, but he's got the latest
Call of Duty
.' I back-kicked Sionnach's ankle. ‘Yeah, come on back with us.'

‘Well, that's a first.' Lauren almost grinned at me. ‘Thanks.'

Sionnach's anger was coming off him in radioactive waves, but it was an offer Lauren couldn't refuse and I wasn't about to withdraw it. She was my cousin, even if not the one I was in love and lust with, and it was undeniably odd that I'd never invited her back to my new place. After all, I hadn't bitten her face for at least three years, and she hadn't gouged my eyeballs. Maybe we were both older and wiser; maybe it was just that we didn't have to share a bathroom any more, or indeed a house.

I lived with my real family now, with my uncle and the exiled clann he captained, and I was happy. Probably happier than any of them, since I was the only one who wasn't dislocated and homesick. My life would be pretty much perfect, in fact, if it wasn't for college applications, and the high chance of being hunted down and murdered.

~
Get rid of Lauren as soon as you can,
Sionnach told me. ~
This is a mistake.

~
It'll be fine.

~
We're all going to regret it.

Within about ten seconds, I already did. At school Lauren was inclined to eye Rory a little too closely and too long, and now, as we headed home through the deserted streets, she might have been surgically attached to his flank. Rory was way too polite and naive to tell her where to go, and Sionnach dropped back about fifty metres.

It pissed me off, and funnily enough it wasn't jealousy. It was just that Sionnach belonged with us more than Lauren ever would. Nobody had the right to take his place.

I glanced over my shoulder, and Sionnach gave me one of his most beautiful grins.

~
It's okay.

Well. He might not mind, but I did.

Nobody could say we lived in the best part of the city, but it was certainly the oldest. Half the old warren called Fishertown—‘town' must have been a bit of stretch from day one—had been flattened to make way for warehouses and factory units and offices. What was left, when the heritage charities finally got their act together, was huddled on the far side of the industrial estate, cut off from the rest of the city: a few cobbled streets and low terraced cottages with quaint streetlights that I suspected weren't the originals. Some Victorian shipowner had built a big house to the south, right up on the cliffs, overlooking his fiefdom. It was ramshackle now, dilapidated and unloved and unsold because the sea was eating at its foundations. Frankly I didn't like to walk out on the headland and look back at the cliffs, riddled with tunnels and caves. At two in the morning, waking with a start, I could imagine the whole house collapsing into one of those holes.

Rory's stepmother had found the house, or it had found her: love and real-estate lust at first sight. It had no name and they didn't give it one; my friend Orach once told me that if you named something, you tied it to you, and it would tie you right back. Old and huge, unrenovated so that its rooms and halls were a warren of secret places, the house was set at the end of a dark winding drive in more than two acres of wild rhododendron-haunted garden. And there we all lived, and when I say
all,
I mean all. The place was treated as an open house by what seemed like an entire exiled race. I never knew who I'd find when I got home from school.

As Rory trudged up the drive with Lauren, I hung back under the untrimmed laurels and waited for Sionnach. He gave a soundless laugh as he caught up and put an arm round my shoulder, and together we negotiated the stuff piled in the hall. Motorbike helmets, mountain bikes, two pairs of muddy hillwalking boots, a sack of dry dog food. A case of empty wine bottles put out for recycling. Snowboards, waiting to be cleaned and waxed for the oncoming winter. I swore as I tripped on someone's laptop bag. Minus laptop, and just as well, since I kicked it hard.

I'd never altogether get my head round the Sithe's gregarious ways. They just didn't seem capable of living in nice little nuclear units. Always had to be in great sprawling anthills of humanity, and the more the merrier, but somehow, if you wanted space and solitude, you could find it. You could even find peace and quiet.

At least, you could find a moment's peace when Rory's father and stepmother weren't tearing verbal strips off each other. As we caught up with Rory and Lauren, waiting in the hall, my heart sank. The kitchen door was shut but we could hear every word.

‘You conceited ARROGANT stubborn UP-YOURSELF FAERY!
What makes you think you know better than me?
'

‘Yeah, it's not like
I've
had more
experience
of life. It's not like I would know better because I've seen about a
thousand percent more
and know
ten thousand
times more than you do because I've been
around a bit longer.
'

Rory had his hand on the kitchen door but he paused. If he walked in now, Seth and Finn might shut up, but then again they might not, and that would be even more embarrassing. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I shook my head. Sionnach sighed—half exasperated, half sorrowful—then edged past me and out towards the back garden and his workshop.

Smiling brightly, Rory and I looked at Lauren, and Rory said. ‘Sorry about this. Let's go upstairs.'

Lauren stared at the kitchen door. ‘For God's sake. Is he violent?'

‘Hoo!' I laughed. ‘In his dreams. Take no notice.'

‘Wait till they make it up.' Rory rolled his eyes. ‘That's when it gets
really
embarrassing.'

‘I'll prove it to you! I'll show you what I saw, if you've got the guts to look!'

‘Don't bother. You were hallucinating. I don't want to share your hallucinations.'

‘Sometimes I could just SLAP YOU, SETH MACGREGOR!'

‘Well, why don't you? It's NOT LIKE YOU USUALLY HOLD BACK.'

The total hideous silence was broken after a few seconds by a snort of laughter. A clatter of crockery falling to the floor, the scrape of a table. A growl and more laughter.

‘If I didn't love you so much I'd have to kill you.'

‘Yeah, yeah. I'd like to see you try. Shut up and kiss me, woman.'

‘Oh, for crying out loud,' I said. ‘Let's get out of here.'

‘If my mum called my dad a fairy, he'd kill her,' said Lauren as we climbed the stairs. ‘I'm amazed Doctor Evil puts up with it.'

Rory stiffened, one foot on the top step and a dangerous look in his eye. ‘What did you call my father?'

‘Sorry.' Lauren shrugged. ‘Thought everybody did.'

I felt a surge of violent resentment go through Rory. ‘Not in front of me they don't. All right?'

I gave him a mental nudge
. ~ Calm down, there, Laochan
.

~
Like hell I will. Like any of them have been through what he's been through. You don't get scars if you spend your whole life on your fat backside, do you?

~
Your dad thinks it's funny, you know.
I glanced at Lauren, who was watching us both as if we were mad. ~
He doesn't mind.

~
Well, I do.
But he shrugged. ‘Come on, Lauren, forget it. My room's up here.'

Actually I wasn't telling the truth, there. Seth did mind. He was still self-conscious, and he was never going to have a perfect face again, but I reckoned he looked more beautiful now, as if life had given him a good slapping and he'd bounced back stronger and a whole lot wiser. The beatings he'd taken from the Wolf of Kilrevin had knocked his features slightly out of symmetry, and his right eyelid didn't open as far as the left one since a deep vertical scar had been drawn down his face with a knife, but his eyes got a sort of mournful beauty from the aching homesickness. Ironic. Or maybe his non-existent gods just had a terrible sense of humour.