The Stolen: An American Faerie Tale (12 page)

“Get on with it, already,” Brendan said, then whispered to Caitlin. “It'll be fine, love. It's nearly done. Be strong.”

Strength, warmth, and confidence radiated from Brendan. She looked into his face and saw resolve. Something burned under the surface though, and it melted the cold fear, filling and feeding a slow burning anger in her. She'd scarcely had a violent thought in her adult life, but right now, she wanted nothing more than to beat the information out of Justin with her bare hands, to feel the satisfaction of his flesh and bone breaking under her fists.

Justin laughed at Caitlin. She flinched, and as images of her first encounter with the oíche returned, fear ate at the edges of her anger and she found herself drawing closer to Brendan.

“Fian,
díbeartach,
” Justin said, each word soaked in venom. “I'll have repayment from you for giving my name to another.” He glanced at Edward and a smile emerged on his face—­the kind that's usually accompanied with an axe. “Do you think this sad little mageling can hold me? He's growing weak already.”

Brendan unfolded Caitlin from his arms, and she felt vulnerable as he moved to stand inches away from the edge of the circle.

“Oh, he's a fine wizard,” Brendan said. “Strength to spare. Don't you worry, cuddles, when we're done here, you're all mi—­”

“Justin, you and your kin are in violation of the Oaths,” Dante said, putting a hand on Edward's shoulder.

Edward took several short gasps and nodded.

“You've no jurisdiction on me now, Magister.” Justin smiled at Caitlin.

She wavered a little but didn't look away; she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Even so, he was clearly enjoying this, and it was getting to her.

“You're not in the Tír anymore, now are you, you
mac mallachta
?” Brendan asked. “That puts you back into his care.” He smiled and crossed his arms. “Ask your questions, then,” he said to Dante. “The sooner we get what we need, the sooner we get the girl back, and then Justin and I have a dance waiting.”

Caitlin could see Edward struggling as Dante helped him to his feet. Edward glanced at her, and something changed in him. A look of focused determination solidified in his face. The self-­doubt, fear, and worry that had plagued him before were gone.

Dante said something in Edward's ear, but Caitlin couldn't hear it. Edward's jaw clenched and he stared unblinking at Justin, who returned his stare. The room filled with a new tension as Edward and Justin began their battle of wills.

Caitlin's heart began to pound.

Edward's bandaged hand started to shake, but he tightened it into a fist until it stopped.

Hope welled up inside Caitlin. Edward was standing taller and straighter than she'd ever seen, and Justin was faltering. It was as if she was seeing Edward for the first time. Now the word
wizard
seemed fitting.

Justin's body began to shake with effort. Then he groaned and took a step back.

Edward gritted his teeth and smiled. “Take that, jerk.”

“Good,” Dante said. “First question: where is the stolen child, known as Fiona, who was taken from her mother's home this night?” Dante covered his ears. “Use his name.”

“Justarisheeth,” Edward said, and Justin winced. “Where is the stolen child, known as Fiona, who was taken from her mother's home this night?”

Justin gnashed his teeth. “No . . . I'll . . . not . . . say,” he said between labored breaths.

“Again!” Brendan said. “Use his name at the start and compel him at the end. Don't ask, force him, the bastard!”

“Justarisheeth, where is the stolen child, known as Fiona, who was taken from her mother's home this night?
Trwy dy enw, yr wyf yn eich gorfodi,
Justarisheeth!”

This time, Justin staggered as if he'd been punched, dropped to his knees, banged his fists on the invisible wall, and screamed. “She's—­no!” Again, his claws dug into the barrier, dragged down, and once more blue scratches hung in the air before fading.

“Again!” Brendan shouted.

“Justarisheeth,” Edward repeated. “Where's Fiona?
Trwy dy enw, yr wyf yn eich gorfodi!
Yr wyf yn eich gorfodi
, Justarisheeth!”

Justin's body shook as his muscles tensed, and he screamed, longer than any mortal would ever have been able to. Caitlin covered her ears.

“No!” Justin collapsed and writhed on the floor. “She's—­” He convulsed and dug his claws into the stone. “She's between shadow and light.” He screamed again and left deep gouges in the floor as his claws dragged across it.

“What?” Brendan clenched his fists. “No. You're lying. You wouldn't.”

Justin's laugh was maniacal. He looked up at Brendan, still cackling. Small lines of black ooze ran out of his left ear and down his neck.

Caitlin saw what looked like fear in Brendan's eyes, and her heart turned to ice.

“I'm compelled,
díbeartach
!” Justin said with the same madness that tinged his laughter. “She's out of your reach!” He looked right at Caitlin and grinned. “And yours as well.”

Caitlin took several steps back until she felt the wall behind her. She leaned against it as tears began to run down her face. “No, no, no.”

Brendan grabbed Dante and turned him so they were face-­to-­face. “Your plan didn't work,” he said once Dante had uncovered his ears.

“What? What did he say?”

“She's in the Tír!” Brendan shouted.

Dante's eyes went wide. “What?”

There was only a moment of confusion before Caitlin's mind went back to the stories from her childhood. “Tír na nÓg? No!” she screamed, or thought she did. However, no sound came from her open mouth.

Brendan bellowed and turned, arms reaching out for Justin.

“Brendan, no!” Dante grabbed the big man, pulling him back. “Not yet!”

“Get off me!” Brendan roared.

Meanwhile, Edward was perfectly still. He appeared unmoved by what was unfolding around him, except for the slightest tremor and small trickle of blood that ran from his nose.

Cold fear and hollow doubt were consuming Caitlin.

It's all gone wrong, so terribly wrong.

Dante managed to pull Brendan back a few feet, then he stepped between him and the circle. “The wizard, don't forget about the wizard!”

Brendan seethed as he and Dante began shouting at each other in what Caitlin presumed was Irish.

Justin's black eyes locked onto Caitlin. She could feel his gaze burning through her and piercing her heart. It felt like he was violating her, delving into her very being.

He smiled knowingly, and his lips moved as he spoke silently.

Her heart stopped as she realized the truth. She'd lost Fiona.

A strange sigil, drawn of green fire, appeared high above Justin's head. As it did, the symbols of the circle shifted from blue to green.

Edward's eyes opened wide and he gasped as his body tensed, his hands began to shake, and sweat poured down his face.

Caitlin tried to scream, move, or do anything, but her body wasn't responding. Hopelessness weighed her down.

The sigil flared and there was a pop in the air. A bolt of green fire leapt from the burning symbol and struck Edward in the chest. He cried out and fell backwards, hitting the floor.

Caitlin's heart stopped. “Eddy, no!”

Dante and Brendan turned just in time to see Justin lunge at Brendan, claws first and mouth wide in a roar.

Brendan shoved Dante to the ground and, as Justin collided with him, twisted and used the momentum to hurl Justin across the room. The oíche hit the wall and fell to the floor with a thump, but he rolled and was on his feet in less than a second.

A second, apparently, was too slow.

Before Caitlin could even gasp, Brendan, a large knife appearing in his hand from nowhere, was on Justin.

“I'm going to make this hurt!” Brendan drove the knife into Justin's midsection.

Justin shrieked as lights and tendrils of darkness welled up from the wound and drifted away.

Justin swiped at Brendan, but Brendan caught his small hand and twisted his wrist until a snapping sound echoed through the chamber and was drowned under Justin's cries.

“You've had this coming,” Brendan said as he slashed Justin's face with the knife. Justin's skin turned black and cracked at the edge of the cuts. Nearly invisible darkness wafted from the torn flesh. “And this is just the start!”

“Brendan!” Dante shouted from Edward's side. “Stop it, Brendan! Not yet!”

“I've waited long enough,” Brendan said. There were flashes of silver as he cut Justin over and over.

Caitlin could see Justin slipping away. Part of her screamed for Justin's blood, to hear him shriek in pain. However, the larger part wanted her daughter back and knew her best chance was fading away right before her eyes.

She looked from Brendan back to Edward, who still wasn't moving. It was like standing on a hill and watching the whole world end. Then something broke inside her and she couldn't just watch anymore.

“No!” she screamed, and her muscles sprang to life. She grabbed onto Brendan and tried to pull him off Justin, but she might as well have been trying to move a tank.

Justin's howls of pain diminished and turned to choking laughter. His once beautiful face was now a black, dried mask. He looked every bit the monster. Unfortunately, he was a monster Caitlin needed.

“She's gone,
díbeartach
!” Justin laughed. “And you'll never get her back!”

Caitlin felt shaky, and her grip on Brendan grew weak as tears began to flow.

But it wasn't true. Justin was lying. He had to be. She'd know.

“You've lost another one,
díbeartach,
” Justin said, between a mix of laughs and hacking coughs. He smiled at Caitlin, sharp teeth covered in black gore. “I hope you said good-­bye, Mommy. No one comes back.” He laughed and coughed again as his head rolled back.

Caitlin let go of Brendan as Justin, and her last hope, vanished in a cloud of black and tiny white lights. The weight of everything, the enormity of it all and the stark reality of what was happening, chose that moment to crash into her like a tsunami. Tír na nÓg? Fiona might as well be on the moon.

No, as long as Fiona was alive, there was hope. As long as Caitlin could still draw breath, there was hope.

Wasn't there?

The possibilities ran through her head. She considered all the horrors her baby must be seeing, what these monsters might be doing to her. Caitlin gasped for air and leaned back until she felt the cold stone of the wall.

Her baby had been taken by faeries. Now Caitlin found herself in a world of darkness she'd never imagined could exist. A world she was unprepared to face.

“Find the courage! Find the strength! This is your child!” she told herself silently.

Disgust welled in her. Not at Justin, or the creatures who'd taken Fiona. Her revulsion was reserved for herself and her utter failure as a mother. Her heart began to beat more erratically. She reached out for strength, for hope, for courage, for any kind of comforting thought. Her baby needed her now, more so than ever before. But she couldn't get to her.

The room appeared frozen in time, and she was outside herself. Brendan was against the wall, his hand and knife buried in the cloud of darkness that had been Justin. Dante knelt over Edward. She sat against the wall in a fetal position as tears poured down her face.

A warrior, a wizard, and an elf had all failed. What could she possibly do? She tried desperately to cling to hope, even to the hope there was hope, but it was empty and hollow. She looked down at her small, pathetic form. Never before had she felt so minuscule, so insignificant, and so useless.

Everyone, everything in her life, even before this moment, had turned to ash. Her grandparents had cared for her when her parents had died, but she'd still taken the weight of that pain all on herself. She'd loved her grandparents, but she hadn't trusted them to stay. How could she? Her parents had died and left her. If they could be taken away, anyone could.

James had seduced her and then disappeared. Cold washed over her as she remembered waking up in that small bed and breakfast, seeing his bag in the corner but his clothes and shoes gone.

He'd left, just like Mom and Dad.

Again her grandparents had tried to help when she'd found herself pregnant, but they'd died and left her too, never even having had the chance to see their great-­grandchild. And now Kris, caught in a dangerous situation, might end up being the latest casualty of Caitlin's cursed life. All of them suffering tragedy for nothing more than trying to help her.

She looked at Edward, limp in Dante's arms. Her heart began to crack. She knew the childhood he'd had. A skinny, awkward, and bookish child, for most of his life he'd been an easy and constant target for bullies. And yet after each blow that knocked him down, he got back up again. She thought of the failed spell. He'd seen, or maybe even been touched by, something terrible. And still, he'd put aside his doubts, his fears, and faced it all, for her and for Fiona. He'd always been there for her, perhaps even when he shouldn't have been, when she hadn't really deserved it.

Something flashed in the corner of her eye, and when she turned to look, a tiny light, no larger than a spark, hung unmoving in the air. It was hope, but it was so small.

Caitlin closed her hand around it. Heat radiated from it, and she wondered if this was all real or just a hallucination.

There was no way she could do this, not by herself. She held the hope and looked from one face to another. When she looked at Edward, she saw his chest slowly rise and fall. He was still here. He was still alive.

She wasn't alone.

The hope in her hand grew warmer, and light leaked from between her fingers. That thought should've been obvious, but she only really understood it now. She needed others, to trust in them. She looked at Dante, then at Brendan. Strangers to her, but both putting their lives on the line, Brendan quite literally. They were all still fighting, all of them.