Shine (37 page)

“Aura, it’s okay,” Deirdre said. “We’re not here to hurt you and Zachary.”

It
was
the Deirdre who’d cleaned our room at the B and B. The one who maybe wanted me to get pregnant.

I wished they’d blocked my ears instead of my mouth. Behind me, Zachary sounded fully alert again as he struggled. He seemed to be trying not to speak, but his labored breathing alone was shattering my shade-infested body. I moaned as loud as I could to drown out the sound.

Deirdre let go of the zip tie. “There, it’s done. I’ll light the candles.”

When she turned away, I let my wrists relax. There was room now to twist them. Because they were crossed and behind my back, it’d take some time and pain to slip my hands free of the binding.

“You asked what we’re doing,” Nuala said as she turned me to face the chamber. I looked away from the sight of the bare-chested
Zachary bound and gagged in the shallow basin, and instead focused on the pair of black pillar candles set at the base of the most beautiful wall-stone.

“We are ending the Shift,” Nuala continued. “It started with the coming of the light to Newgrange nineteen years ago, and tonight it shall end with the darkening of the light in Dowth. The Children of the Sun’s legacy lives on in us.”

The boy who’d restrained me—Colm?—shook my shoulder. “What Nuala is trying to say is that we want to get rid of the ghosts, like the one that killed our da and nana. For the Shift to end, you and your boyfriend here have to die at sunset.”

My mind blanked with terror.

“No!”

The protest wasn’t mine, but Deirdre’s.

“That’s not what Nana Murphy wants,” she said. “She wants us to do the fertility ritual so they’d have a child. The new day, remember? Aidan, you were the one who told me.”

A cackle came from Aidan, now standing at Zachary’s feet. “You still believe in all that Tuatha Dé Danann shite? There’s no Dagda coming, and no Óengus. There never was such a thing, and no faeries, neither. The only thing there is, is ghosts, and we’re gettin’ rid of them now.”

Zachary strained at his bonds, to no avail, but he remained silent behind his own gag—for my sake, no doubt.

I wriggled my wrists and pushed my right thumb toward my palm to make my hand as narrow as possible. My shoulders ached already, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the meltdown of the shades at Zachary’s proximity.

Nuala withdrew a long knife from beneath her robe. Its curved blade glinted in the candlelight. “Bring her over here.”

I cried out as Colm pushed me forward, toward Zachary. I wanted to shut my eyes, but had to keep aware of my surroundings.

“Don’t do this,” Deirdre pleaded. “It’s not what Nana wants.”

“It’s what our da wants!” Nuala sneered at her sister. “You’re just jealous because he visits me.”

“ ‘Visits’? Ha. More like ‘torments.’ I’m glad he doesn’t haunt me that way. I’m glad it’s not my fault he died.”

Nuala brandished the knife. “Shut up, cow!”

The pieces assembled in my fear-drenched mind. Nuala must have been the one driving when Padraig Murphy was killed in the accident, the accident that happened because of a ghost.

“It’s all right, Deirdre,” said the youngest boy, who sounded maybe thirteen. “When they die, they’ll be reborn in the Otherworld.”

“That’s right, Bran.” Colm put his hand on my shoulder. “And if they die together here, they’ll live together there. Happy ending.”

“You don’t believe that,” Deirdre spat. “You’re just trying to convince Bran it’s okay to murder.”

“There’s no such thing as murder,” Bran said. The words from such a youthful mouth chilled me. I shut my mind to the terror and focused on my hands again.

“Where is Da, anyway?” Bran asked. “He was supposed to be here for this. He was supposed to tell us what to do.”

“We don’t need him!” Nuala snapped. “We know the ritual, we know the chant, and it’s time to start. There’s five minutes until sunset. If he’s not here by then, we kill them, anyway.”

I knew why Padraig wasn’t in the chamber—because Zachary was here. No ghost or shade could stand his presence.

“I can’t do this!” Deirdre tore off her dark gray robe and fled the chamber down the passageway, leaving her four siblings behind.

“You think she’ll tell?” Bran asked.

“She won’t tell.” Nuala sat on the edge of the basin. “Make the girl kneel.”

Colm shoved me down near Zachary’s head, atop his discarded clothes.

“Five minutes,” said Aidan. “Time to clear our minds while Nuala prepares the first sacrifice.” He lit his own candle with a lighter, then switched off his flashlight. “We call on the power of the oak. Give us your strength.”

As the others lit their candles off his, then began to chant and sway, I flashed back to the first day I’d ever spent with Zachary. Eowyn had served us tea in mugs marked with letters of the old Irish alphabet, whose meanings went with the trees they matched. Logan had just died, so when I saw
quert
, the letter for apple and love, I nearly broke down. Zachary had traded me for his own,
duir
, the oak. The letter for strength.

My anger surged.
The strength of the oak is
mine,
you bastards. Zachary gave it to me when I had none of my own.

By this point I’d turned one of my hands and tucked it inside the other. I pulled and twisted and felt my right hand slip halfway out. But even if I could get out of these bindings, then what? I couldn’t overcome four people to escape—much less cut his ties. Though the shades made it hell to look at Zachary, I wouldn’t leave without him.

Nuala’s three brothers fixed their eyes on their own candles as
she balanced the long knife on her fingertips, above Zachary’s bare chest.

No …

I flexed my wrists again. The tie slipped another inch, just over the ridge of my thumb.

Nuala grasped the knife handle and made the first cut. Zachary let out a choked gasp, his eyes bulging wide with pain and shock.

I stared at the blood dribbling over his ribs and into the stone basin. The sight of it, and the sound of his voice, shot to the bottom of my soul—

—and stirred the shades.

The hum started low and angry, building in volume and power, throbbing inside my head. They wanted their freedom.

And I would give it to them.

Sticky with cold sweat, my hand caught in the tie.
Come on …

Nuala cut Zachary again, on the left side of his chest. This time he made no sound, just chomped hard on the gag and shuddered all over. His eyes found mine and spoke all the pain he couldn’t voice.

But it no longer hurt to look at him. Inside, the shades had separated from my soul. They were ready to leave. Ready to fight.

Yet if I released the shades, Zachary’s presence would make them flee before they could stop our attackers. Unless I could somehow convince them to stay, at least long enough for me to free him and escape with our lives.

Logan’s words, delivered through Dylan, came back to me now.

Shades can do whatever the fuck they want. Anything but become ghosts.

They. Can. Choose.

I closed my eyes, though I hated to break the connection with Zachary. I had to speak to the shades.

Malcolm and Mary, I’ve sheltered you for hours, given you a semblance of life. You’ve tasted food, drunk coffee, bathed in hot water again. Help me now.

They curled and hissed inside me, feeling nothing but fear of Zachary.

Please,
I asked them.
If you help us get out of here alive, I promise in three months I’ll call you again. I’ll turn you back to ghosts.

They were listening. I’d gotten their attention by offering the one thing all shades wanted and only a few had ever gained: hope.

When I let you go, attack everyone except me, okay?
I had no idea whether shades could control or direct their toxic vibes, but if I felt even slightly less shade-sick than my attackers, I’d have an advantage.

Just as my right hand slipped free of the tie, I felt Mary and Malcolm’s assent.

Nuala raised the knife. “Sunset has arrived.” She wiped the knife on a red silk cloth, then placed the blade against Zachary’s throat. “Time to die.”

Now!

The shades came, shrieking like twin cyclones, relishing the darkness of this place and of the souls of our would-be murderers.

The post-Shifters screamed, dropping their candles and covering their ears. Nuala squealed loudest of all, her long knife clattering into the stone basin as one of the shades shot directly through her.

Fighting my own shade-sickness—milder than usual but still
powerful—I ripped off my gag, then retrieved the long knife.

“What the fuck?” Aidan yelled. He bent over his little brother, who was in a full-out shade-seizure. “Bran, what’s happening?”

I paused for only a moment in my confusion, then sliced the binding around Zachary’s right hand. My head was swimming from the shades, so I gave him the knife. He hacked at the binding on his left hand while I slipped off his gag. Without speaking, Zachary sat up to cut his legs free.

Colm crawled toward me, gagging and retching. He swiped a fist at me and missed. With no weapon, I backpedaled away, knocking over one of the black pillar candles. When Colm lurched forward again, I kicked out hard, smashing the sole of my boot into his nose. He collapsed facedown.

Beside me, Nuala vomited, moaning, and for a moment, I felt sorry—not for her, but for this ancient sacred site.

Aidan stepped out of the side recess, wielding Zachary’s switchblade. It gleamed in the light of the remaining candle. Despite the shades still whirling in the chamber, the young man’s stance was completely steady.

“Did you think we were all children, ya stupid cow?” He pushed back his hood to reveal a face that was at least a year or two older than mine. A pre-Shifter.

My vision going in and out of focus, I looked at Zachary, who was still sawing away at his last binding. Aidan took a step toward him.

“No!” I reached for the closest objects, the pair of pillar candles. Afraid to lose our only light, I picked up the doused candle and hurled it at Aidan. It bounced harmlessly off his chest, but grabbed his attention.
Whimpering, I retreated against the wall so that he’d turn his back to Zachary.

“Maybe it’s not too late to end the Shift.” Aidan pounced, knocking me over and pinning my legs and arm to the floor. “Maybe we can kill you first.”

I flailed my free hand. It hit the lit candle. I seized it and smashed the flame into Aidan’s face, making him scream, and dropping us all into darkness.

But not total darkness. Dim light trickled in from the door. A shadow passed before it. Was Zachary running away?

Aidan shoved my chin up and set the blade to my throat. “No more pretty chants now. Just your blood on this stone.”

Metal slammed his jaw, so hard I heard something pop. He sank to the side, groaning like a downed steer.

Zachary stood above me, wielding the bolt cutters he’d dropped at the chamber threshold. “Come on.”

He helped me stumble past the basin, where his blood had formed a dark pool. On the way out, I grabbed his shirt and jacket, which I hoped still held our car keys.

We clambered over the writhing bodies and staggered down the passageway, following the light outside.

“The lock!” Zachary shouted. “Do you still have the lock?”

I pulled it from my pocket as we ran out into the rainy dusk. Zachary shoved the gate closed behind us.

“No!” Aidan leaped toward us down the passage.

I tried to hook the lock into the hole, but my hands were shaking from adrenaline and shade-sickness. It missed.

The gate shuddered with the full force of Aidan’s charge, opening a few inches. Zachary roared and threw all his weight against it.

“Aura, hurry!” Face and chest bleeding, he planted his feet against the base of the rock wall for leverage. Aidan stepped back for another charge.

Fighting my vertigo, I felt for the hole in the dim light. The padlock slid through and snapped shut.

Aidan slammed into the gate. He made an incoherent grunt, holding his jaw.

Though Zachary’s chest was still bleeding, he held me up and helped me stumble away. I whispered a silent thanks to the shades Mary and Malcolm and renewed my pledge to save their souls come March twenty-first.

As we drove off, and the place of darkness receded behind us, I sent out one last message, though its recipient probably couldn’t hear me.

Thank you, Logan, wherever you are.

W
e shot off down the country road, bouncing through potholes and veering into the oncoming lane at every turn.

I didn’t tell Zachary to drive carefully. “Where are we going?”

“Out of this country. Now.”

“Do you need a hospital?”

“I don’t think so. They weren’t deep cuts. I just want to leave.” He winced as his arm moved to shift gears. “Clean me off while I drive?”