Traitor (2 page)

Desmond grunted and flipped onto his stomach, pinning the Changeling against the ground. I normally wouldn’t look at Desmond, but his lanky frame usually hid his muscles. Now they rippled like corded steel beneath his sweat-soaked t-shirt. A thick line of sweat darkened his already grey shirt down the back and defined the muscles that coursed along his spine from exertion. I couldn’t help but laugh; little Desmond, the one I always though of as a little brother and usual suspect of trouble making, actually worked out.

Cursing anything within reach, the Changeling began to shift, but Liam was there immediately with the rope. With the Changeling tied by its hands and feet, Liam lifted the faerie and tossed it over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “This should keep the bugger from changing. Let’s go,” Liam grunted. A small sheen of sweat dripped from his brow. He wiped it away with the back of his free hand and motioned for all of us to go, but stopped to give me a shocked look.

He must have seen the blood-covered rag I had pressed up to my head. His eyes darkened. He lifted two fingers to the side of his forehead and slowly pulled it away. His own blood stained his fingers. Once more he readjusted the faerie on his shoulder and started to move toward the house. Liam’s nostrils flared. “I don’t want to be here when the next crack opens up.”

Desmond strutted past; he was proud of his catch. He’d undoubtedly claim that he undertook the entire altercation alone, even though Liam was the one hauling the Changeling through the foliage and underbrush we now fought through. Memaw and I smacked lowlying tree branches out of the way as we trekked back to Tess’s house.

Apparently Desmond had already completely forgotten about his attack on his comrade-in-arms that just so happened to be me. Memaw grabbed his arm once we’d made it to Tess’s backyard. He jumped in fright. Little twitchy chicken. Memaw smiled at his response. “I believe you owe my granddaughter an apology,” she said, trying to sound threatening. A smile played on her lips that she fought to keep inside, knowing I would be mad if she laughed.

Desmond apologized, shrugging and snorting at the same time. It was obvious he was just placating me with the apology. His eyes twinkled with merriment that belittled any sort of amends he was attempting to make. “Sorry, Ash. You do a good impersonation of the buggers.”

I shook my head, knowing this story would circulate like wildfire for a while.

The Changeling strugged to upright itself, and Issac came from behind and put his foot on its back to pin it to the ground. Issac’s sneer made his usually congenial face off-putting. “Where do you think you’re going? We might have questions for you. What’s your name, you nasty thing?”

“Issac, he’s not going to answer any questions if you’re mean to him,” I chided delicately, hoping it didn’t come off as too rude. I wasn’t planning on starting a Changeling rights movement anytime soon, but if we were trying to find out where Ankou was keeping Memaw’s daughter, MaKenna, Tess’s son, Aiden, and my brother, Chris, we should probably play nice. At least, it seemed like a good place to start. I placed my hand gently on the small of Issac’s back and pushed him along. My words were hushed in an attempt to keep the Changeling out of the conversation. “We’re not going to make any friends if we’re rude and hateful.”

Issac looked at me disdainfully, then back to the Changeling where he laid on the ground. “Changeling, you’re lucky the girl has a soft spot for you.” Issac stormed back, picked the Changeling up once more and threw him over his back, this time with more force than necessary. Grunting, the Changeling threw me a contemptuous glare and then stared at the ground.

Memaw put her hand on my shoulder. “You should probably shift if you ever want that cut to heal. You know shifting back is going to reopen it.”

I sighed. As much fun as it was to be a Bridger, running these reconnaissance missions was starting to get old. We hadn’t found out much that we didn’t already know and now we were taking prisoners. That was sure to bring calamity down on us when Ankou found out. We might as well just light up a neon sign over the house now. I looked at Memaw, annoyance etched in every part of my face to make sure she knew how I felt about all of this. Before I could blink my eyes, I was myself again.

“You’re getting good at that, you know,” Memaw said appreciatively. If she noticed my look of distaste over the situation, she didn’t acknowledge it. Typical. She ignored anything that she didn’t want to deal with at that moment. “You’re actually better than anyone on the committee, save for Reuben.”

Reuben was a dirty hulk of a Glaistig faerie. I would never say that to his face, of course, because he could and probably would snap me in half. When I met him, it looked like he’d been living in the woods until Rebecca, the head of the committee, had called him to convene. It wouldn’t surprise me if it were true. He lived in Adaire and was on the committee of five that were the overseers of all faeries, but what he spent his time doing when not in meetings was a mystery to me. “Reuben? What does he do?”

Memaw smiled. “He’s the healer and hunter. He can treat and patch up anyone of any ailment, including mortals that are on the brink of death. There’s nothing and no one he can’t track down. The committee utilizes his unique skill set, and that’s not all he can do.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she spoke of him, as though he were her idol or mentor. “He can change at will and become anything he desires, just like the rest of us on the committee, but better. You can never tell the difference between him and his subject. The shift is absolutely complete in every way. The only difference between you two is that he must touch whatever he wants to change into later, no matter how many times he’s become the person. You don’t. You only need to touch them once and you can remember it forever. No more is necessary than you recalling the memory.”

I thought about how effective it would be on the missions I was attempting to run now if there were no telling signs that I was an impostor. “I wish I could do that. Maybe then Ankou wouldn’t have caught me this last time. We’re going to have to be more creative next time.”

Memaw looked at me and sucked in a breath. Her emerald eyes darkened like a storm covering a forest. Wrinkles from years of worrying became pronounced on her brow even though she was currently in her younger state. “Ankou caught you? How did you get away?”

I smiled, knowing I’d get to retell this story many times tonight. Maybe it would offset the tale that Desmond would weave of clocking me when I returned from Neamar. “Well, he caught wind that I was in Neamar, but he didn’t know where or who I was. I wanted to get back at Jamie a little. After finding out where she was, I went to her quarters, shifted into a banshee and wailed in her ear.”

Memaw threw her head back in appreciative laughter. Her shoulders shook and set her now tattered skirt in motion. Ripples moved in waves down the soft cotton skirt and matched her laughter’s easy pace. It was nice to see her in such a jovial mood. She leaned on her bow for support as she struggled to gather a breath through her laughs. “I knew meeting up with that banshee would come in handy. Jamie probably wasn’t too happy, was she?”

“Not at all,” I laughed, doubled over at the remembrance of Jamie’s shocked face, then the realization as it hit her. The memory would probably forever be one of my favorites. “It was totally worth it, though.”

Clapping me on the back, Memaw and I walked back to Tess’s house, following the rumbling laughter and chatter of the men who had sworn to protect us up ahead. “You certainly are my granddaughter,” Memaw commended me. “We can find you another way in to Neamar. It sounds like Jamie got a little comeuppance, which is worth the trouble you caused.” She flicked the collar of the black jacket I was wearing. “The little bugger comes in handy, doesn’t it? Never would have thought we Glaistig could stuff every mythical creature’s ability into a wool jacket, would you?”

When Memaw got to talking about Glaistig pride, there was little that could be done. She was an unstoppable force of nature at her best, and the apocalypse incarnate if you made her mad. I fingered the woolen coat gingerly along the top of the collar and traced the hard curves down the front to the first button. I wound my finger around it like it was a clock that needed winding. The magic infused in the jacket almost hummed and gave off a static feel to the initial touch, ready to be called upon at a moment’s notice. My mind swarmed with possibilities that the jacket could provide the wearer. A smile tickled the ends of my lips as I jogged lightly to keep up with Memaw’s long and quick strides. “No kidding. What are your favorites that the jacket can do?”

Memaw puckered her lips and her face scrunched into deep thought, though she still looked content. She ran her hand along her hair to smooth out the wild nests that blossomed in the forest from the brambles. “Each of the faeries has their own brand of magic,” she said thoughtfully as we marched forward. “Merrows, which is the kind of faerie your old friend Jamie is, have the ability to swim the waters forever without needing to breathe. They can do this because of the cloak and cap they wear. Without them, they wouldn’t manage this feat. Grogoches are known to be impervious to extreme heat or cold because of the dense hair all over their bodies. The Dullahan have unsurpassed sight, even in darkness. The list goes on and on. If I had to pick one, though, I’d take the Merrow. Getting Jamie back in her own arena will be wonderful.”

“I didn’t understand how I turned into a fish woman when Jamie dragged me into the pond, but it definitely came in handy. I can’t wait to try out the others.”

Memaw clapped me on the back, pride threatening to burst her from the inside out. I never thought that she would look at me the way she currently was. It filled me with a sense of gratification and belonging. “You’re nigh invincible when you wear that jacket. Always keep it on when you shift, and never tell anyone of its abilities. That kind of knowledge leads to jealousy. That’s not the purpose of the jacket. It’s simply an understated identifier of the Committee to those outside of the know.” She waggled her finger like the old Memaw I grew up with always had. “Keep it this way, little one.”

Memaw’s demeanor changed, and she put her arm around my shoulder to pull me in close. “How are the nights treating you now?”

I cringed at the thought of nighttime. “Same as they have been.”

“No improvement at all?”

Flashes of images sparked behind the lids of my eyes as I closed them. Dad’s lifeless eyes, Liam floating in midair like a rag doll. Chris trying to kill me. Jamie’s hateful face dragging me into the depths of the pond. Memaw with a worm blade under her skin. Dad’s last breath.

Thinking of the last image, my own breath caught in my lungs. “No, no improvements.”

Memaw clucked her tongue, but not in a disapproving way. I could tell she was pained by the night terrors I was forced to endure each night. It’d been that way since Dad died and everything came to light. She squeezed my shoulder gently. “It’ll take time and healing. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but it does mend them. The people who bear the wounds are the ones who decide how it affects them. You can choose to embrace the dark and dwell in the past, or release the pain and move forward, learning from it. Our past shapes us, but the future is ours to mold.”

“I’m trying,” I said earnestly. I really was. The dreams weren’t as vivid – as viciously real – as they had once been. Most of the time I could wake myself up now. It was just hard to get over everything that had gone on.

“You’re strong; you’re a McVean,” Memaw said with pride oozing from every word. “Plus we’re never given more than we can handle, so remember that. Someone up there,” she motioned toward the sky, “must think you’re as tough as nails.”

I nodded. The sun was setting low behind the trees as we neared Tess’s house. Her simple three-bedroom home had turned into something like a come-and-go house since I had come into their lives. The dark shadow of the house’s exterior began to manifest in front of us as we drew near. Warm light poured from the kitchen and living room windows, illuminating the simple cream-colored shades in each one. Those rooms were also most likely where the source of the commotion that was flooding out was located. It made me smile to see that house, with its nondescript outer layer. You would never imagine the magic and love that teemed behind the walls.

This was my second home, and I’d never have it any other way.

This spring had been fun. It was nice to have spent it in Ireland, even while being on a hit list that no one could save me from. School had been a trick to finish, but once Mom had convinced the teachers that finishing my sophomore year via correspondence was the only way, they’d agreed. This fall we’d return to America to start my junior year, and Liam’s senior. The thought sent shivers up my spine that had nothing to do with faeries. Actually, I’d take the faeries over high school a lot of days.

I slid open the glass door and walked into the cozy living room that had become such a critical refuge from the rest of the world. The high ceilings with open wooden rafters were covered with herbs and dried flowers that were situated artfully between beams. The scents of freshly baked bread, cinnamon, vanilla and warm tea assailed my senses and made my stomach growl. The guys were all sprawled out in the couches and comfy chairs that were arranged in the spacious living room to accommodate large groups and conversations. Plates of food littered every nook and cranny they didn’t fill up. Tess could make a spread that would make even the greatest five-star chef cry, not to mention make your arteries threaten to seal over from the high fat and cholesterol intake she provided in her dishes. I loved her food.

“Where’d you put the Changelings?” Memaw asked. She didn’t sound particularly interested in the answer, instead simply asking so she was on the up and up. While Desmond wasn’t looking, she snatched a drumstick from his plate and then smacked him on the head when he opened his mouth to protest. Her eyebrows disappeared into her bangs as an invitation for him to continue, and Desmond returned his gaze to the plate before him.