Nothing followed. There wasn’t a sound but their laboured breathing. Jinx groaned as he transformed back to Aes Sídhe.
‘So they are real,’ he said, his voice hoarse as if it grated on his throat.
‘Too real,’ she agreed. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I think so. I’ve never encountered anything so …’ He shivered, not from the cold, though he’d left his clothes behind him. Something he only just seemed to realise now. ‘Feck it, I loved that shirt.’
Izzy managed a smile, even as her face burned. ‘You can get another.’
‘Yeah. I have a collection.’ He nodded to an alcove a little further down the corridor. ‘I usually leave a change there. Just in case.’
She couldn’t tell him what the king had said. Or how close Jinx had come to being taken by them. Promised? What did he mean by promised? Promised by who?
By the cross on the head, by hellfire at Samhain. You were promised.
Instead, she turned it all aside with a joke. ‘Is streaking becoming a habit?’
Jinx grinned at her then, a wild and dangerous grin that made her breath hitch in her throat, himself again. ‘You could say that. I’m quite the spectacle some days. Even get fan mail.’
She tried to smile back, return the grin, but her mouth wouldn’t work properly. Holly was back, the Fear were following them. She needed to let Dad know. She needed help.
And where was she going to get it?
She had no choice now but to make her way like a beggar into the Market, to rely on Silver.
And Jinx.
The Market heaved with all varieties of fae life. Jinx was used to that, had known it all his life. With its cruel former mistress Holly gone, a new vitality had seized it, with an added element of lawlessness and abandon that set all his nerves on edge. Music rang out, echoing off the bronze domed roof, and the walls reverberated back with the bell-like acoustics. There were dancers and acrobats, jugglers and fire-eaters. From the moment they stepped through the entrance, he could tell that Izzy was distracted. So much to look at, so much to see. Or maybe she was just mulling over how close they’d come to falling victim to the Fear.
How close he’d come. He’d be dead now if it wasn’t for her. Dead from the terrors they could plant in his head. Dead from the cold that came with them. Dead from fright.
He had to tell Silver. He ought to have kept running, stayed in hound shape and torn his way through the Market until he reached Silver.
But he couldn’t leave Izzy.
Things had changed since they’d been together last. She seemed so much more confident, but he wondered how much of that was for his benefit. Or at least to protect herself from him, from letting herself trust him again. He couldn’t blame her for that.
She’d spoken to the leader of that ghostly band. What they’d said he couldn’t make out, but he didn’t like it. Now she’d gone quiet. Far too quiet. It didn’t do to dwell on the things some people said, especially not beings like that. But he knew Izzy was mulling the words over and over. She couldn’t let them go.
Izzy wasn’t the only thing that had changed. The Market seemed different now. Vulnerable. If the Fear came rampaging through here, what would stop them? Jinx could sense the vibrant atmosphere, the wild joy of freedom, the feeling that at any moment anything might happen, for good or ill. The Market was more than a little wild, as if infected with that older magic, devoid of the Sídhe hierarchy. It was the same thing that made him get into the fights, brawling like some medieval bear in a pit. But with Izzy here, it made him uncomfortable. Under Holly, the market had been safe enough, if you knew how to walk its ways and where to tread, if you were not unwary. Only its mistress stood above its laws. No one else.
Silver had defeated Holly, helped by Izzy, Jinx and the other Cú Sídhe, but she hadn’t claimed the Market as her own.
In truth – though Jinx hated to say it of the Sídhe who had been his only friend through all the long years when he had been Holly’s slave, his aunt, the beloved sister of his mother – Silver was struggling, and without a matriarch, the Market was running out of control.
He saw faces watching him as he and Izzy passed, faces with a schooled indifference that was anything but. They were beautiful and terrible, those faces. Some haunted his nightmares. But none so much as Holly’s had.
She was back. The very thought made his chest tighten to the point of pain. Holly was back and she had a plan. A plan that included him. She had set loose the Fear. She didn’t do anything without reason.
Izzy’s hand tightened in his. Her touch alone kept him grounded, kept him from slipping into his hound-form and fleeing for safety. From the Fear. Even though they weren’t here now, couldn’t enter the hollow as far as he knew, or wouldn’t, choosing to evade discovery instead for as long as possible. Even without their presence, their effect on him lingered like a hangover. He didn’t like it.
When Izzy had taken his hand, he didn’t know. He was just grateful that she had, and that she had yet to let go.
‘Jinx.’ She whispered his name, harsh with urgency. His instincts screamed alarm as he turned and saw her looking back behind them. Again.
At the end of the aisle stood two figures, identical in appearance, and dressed in perfectly matching black and white.
‘Magpies.’ The word was a hiss of disgust. He couldn’t hide the relief though. He’d thought for a moment he’d been wrong, that the Fear had followed them down here, that at any moment they’d gorge themselves on the entire Market.
But it was just the Magpies. Checking up on him probably. It should never be a cause for comfort, but somehow it was. Because the alternative was just too terrible.
The Magpie brothers glanced at each other, sharing that strange unspoken communication, but they didn’t move, just looked back at Jinx and Izzy as if willing them to approach, or as if their glares could hold the two of them there. It was a most uncomfortable gaze.
‘We need to get away from them,’ said Izzy on a single breath.
‘They can’t hurt us. Not here.’ And wouldn’t anyway. He was working for their boss. He couldn’t tell her that. She’d never understand. Well, not working for him exactly. He was working for Silver. Now and always.
If only other people thought that. He could sense eyes on him, the other people of the Market, who would never trust him, who still saw him as Holly’s through and through.
‘They can hurt us anywhere.’
True enough now. The Magpie brothers were ruthless and cunning, experts at intimidation and pain. They served their master and their master wanted answers from him. They could hurt them, but they wouldn’t. Not just yet.
‘It’s okay,’ he said though he barely believed the lie himself. It wasn’t okay. But they were safe for now.
Safer than outside.
‘Sure,’ she said, putting her head down and pushing forward through the crowd. ‘Let’s just find Silver and talk to her. We’ve got to tell her about Holly and the Fear. We’ve got to warn her.’ She hung her head and muttered, so low she possibly thought he couldn’t hear her. But fae hearing was more powerful than human, and Cú Sídhe hearing more powerful than all. ‘I shouldn’t even be here. Dad’s going to flip.’
‘He must have known we’d head here. It’s the only safe place.’
She flinched, and gave him the death glare he knew too well. No, he wasn’t meant to have heard that. ‘I just hope he’s okay. We shouldn’t … we shouldn’t have left him.’
‘And what would have happened had we stayed? They’d use you to get to him, if we’re being optimistic. Or they’d just have a rummage through your mind and find out what Holly did.’
She ripped her hand free of his. ‘God, you sound like Dad!’
A dark surge of anger speared up through him and burst in his brain, glittering and bright as a firework. He stiffened and fought the sudden urge to just walk away. Or worse, to turn on her. It was just for an instant, but it shocked him to silence, and was gone as s
oon as it appeared. Jinx forced himself to breathe. Like someone or something else lurked inside his skin, in the base of his mind. Burning bright.
She was staring at him, suspicion in her gaze. Had she sensed that burst of rage? He didn’t know where it had come from, but it drained away just as quickly, dread taking its place. What had just happened?
He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, spreading his hands out in front of her in what he hoped was a gesture of peace. ‘He’ll be okay, Izzy. They won’t hurt the Grigori. Especially with the Fear loose and Holly killing angels. But they’ll want to know everything and if they find out what she’s done, what she could do … I didn’t live through the war in heaven, or our expulsion, but I’ve heard the stories. I’ve seen the ghosts in the eyes of those who did. No one can fight the angels.’
He didn’t want to tell her any more, not about Holly and what she’d sent Osprey to do. He didn’t want to dwell on the sensation that his mind and body belonged to her, that his life wasn’t his own.
Silver raised her eyebrows to see Jinx with Izzy. He knew that look – surprise, yes, and displeasure, but also speculation. She could convey so much with just a look. So could her mother. But he didn’t want to think of Holly. It made the line at his throat tighten. Jinx gave a respectful bow and Silver responded with a nod of her head. Izzy meanwhile bounded up the steps to Silver’s private chamber, grinning broadly, and rushed by them both to hug Dylan.
Now it was Jinx’s turn to glare. Whatever happened to ‘stay out of their lives to keep them safe’? Silver pursed her lips, chastened, and then rolled her eyes to the bronzed dome high above them. Apparently staying out of Dylan’s life wasn’t proving easy for her either.
Perhaps stubborn attracted stubborn.
‘What are you doing here, Isabel Gregory?’ Silver asked, her voice stern.
Izzy’s smile faltered a little, but Dylan squeezed her hand. If it was anyone else – anyone – Jinx would have wanted to rip his arm off. The temptation lingered even though he knew he had relinquished all rights and demands on her. If he had ever really had any. Those were the wrong words to use around Izzy. Any rights were her own, not his. Any demands were met with strong resistance. He knew that and respected it. Other Sídhe would fight her just to prove her wrong. Jinx knew better. They would fail every time.
He’d given her up for her own safety and regretted it ever since.
‘Lady Silver,’ Izzy said, schooling her features and stance to formality. ‘We need to talk in private. As Grigori, I offer my respect and my bond of peace while I stand within your hollow.’
Oh, she knew the words and the form all right. She’d been studying. Her father had drilled all the right words into her. But not the truth of it perhaps. He feared for her. Feared what this would do to her.
‘Of course, Grigori,’ Silver replied just as formally, though Jinx knew at once she was hiding her surprise. ‘Come this way and take your ease.’
Once they were inside the inner chamber, Silver stopped by the door, handing out orders to those who attended her. Mainly orders of the bugger-off-and-leave-us-alone variety. They didn’t look pleased. Eager ears wanted to hear what the Grigori’s daughter had to say to the matriarch who would not be a matriarch.
Meanwhile Izzy stumbled to a halt, staring into the middle distance, her eyes unfocused. She brought her hand up to her throat.
‘What’s wrong?’ Jinx asked, instantly alarmed. The Fear had almost had them both. There could be repercussions, lingering complications.
‘My necklace. Where is it?’
‘Necklace?’
‘Yes, the silver salmon pendant. Dad gave it to me.’ She spun around, searching the ground, pulling at her clothes to see if it had caught in them.
‘Izzy, you lost it months ago,’ said Dylan, concern lining his face. ‘Remember?’
She looked at him, blinked, her gaze sharpening. ‘I lost it?’
The only thing that looked lost was Izzy herself.
‘You gave up a memory to read the Storyteller’s Book, Izzy,’ Jinx said, as carefully as he could, unwilling to alarm her any further. ‘Could that have been it?’
‘I— oh, of course.’ Her cheeks flushed red. ‘Of course. That’s what it took then? The memory of losing my necklace?’ She sighed, but even that sounded shaky. ‘That’s not so bad, is it?’
Dylan looked bewildered, so that left Jinx to reassure her, something he wasn’t particularly good at.
‘I guess not. You gave the necklace up to save us from the merrows. Do you remember that?’ Not so much ‘us’ as ‘him’. The merrows would have dragged him into the water and torn him to shreds if she hadn’t. Izzy might forget but he never would. She’d saved his life more times than she knew.
She frowned ‘I remember the merrows. And I remember—’ This time her cheeks flamed scarlet and she looked away from him. So she remembered him then, out of his mind with lust after encountering the merrows, lost in their magic, kissing her as if his life depended on it. Oh, yes, the Storyteller couldn’t have taken that mortifying memory and spared him the shame. Just the necklace was gone. Just the way she’d saved them both. ‘After,’ she finished lamely. ‘But not the necklace. Shit, that’s strange. Like a whole section of my mind is blank.’
‘And what did the memory buy you?’ asked Silver. She settled herself on the chaise lounge in the centre of the opulent room, stretching out her long legs.
‘Holly killed the angel Haniel. I don’t know when exactly, although the night of the earthquake seems most likely. They were on top of Shielmartin Hill, in the broken cairn, on Howth Head. She took his spark and buried it and – and I think she woke something up, or started to. She released the Fear.’
‘Holly?’ Silver stiffened all over and every trace of colour drained from her pale face. ‘Holly’s back.’ She took a breath, a choked, desperate sound, and balled her hands into fists. ‘But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t do that.’
Did she really doubt Holly’s power? Or did she just wish it wasn’t so? Was it just denial that made her say it?
‘We’ve seen them,’ Jinx interrupted, before Silver could continue. ‘We barely escaped them. One of Amadán’s people fell victim to them. And someone at Izzy’s school too. Maybe more that we don’t know about. I think they’re on the hunt, Silver. I think that old story is very real.’
‘What story?’ asked Dylan.
‘It’s Sídhe mythology. Old stories.’ Silver thrust her chin out, gritting her teeth, the picture of stubbornness.
‘Silver,’ Jinx chided. ‘We saw them.’
‘You don’t understand. None of you do. The Fear weren’t the only things imprisoned. The cairn on Shielmartin is only part of it, one weakened lock since it was broken down. And if they’re out, if she has opened that first door … She knows where the others are. Everything else could get out as well.’
‘Like what?’ Jinx asked. ‘Come on, Silver. What other imaginary things might get out?’
‘The Shining Ones?’ The words fell like stones from her mouth and Jinx sucked in a breath, his face pale as parchment.
‘They… they aren’t real.’
‘The Fear are but not the Shining Ones? One story is but not the other? Listen to yourself. Old stories can be true, Jinx, even if we wish they weren’t. I know that. And the cairns held them in. But Holly would have to be … insane to do this.’
Insane? Didn’t she know her own mother? If anything, ‘insane’ was an understatement.
‘Silver,’ he tried to make his voice calm, tried to make her believe him. ‘It was Holly. She’s come back. She’s still powerful. She killed Haniel and took his power.’
‘There was something else,’ said Izzy, choosing her words with care. ‘She made something – like a strip of metal, all silvery and blue. She took it with her.’
Silver frowned and her gaze fell on Jinx, so cold and hard that he couldn’t help but squirm. ‘Jinx?’ He couldn’t hide it from her. He couldn’t hide anything
from her and he’d known all along she would worm it from him. He lifted his chin and Silver scowled. ‘Let me see.’
‘See what?’ Izzy asked, but Jinx couldn’t look away from Silver now.
‘It was Osprey. She gave it to him. He put it on me.’ He stepped forward and knelt before Silver. She leaned in close examining his throat where, as he feared, a new line of tattoos had appeared, encircling his neck. A noose, the Storyteller had called it.
Silver touched his head with delicate fingers, brushed his hair back from his face as if he was still a child.
‘Oh Jinx, that can’t be good.’
‘What is it?’ Izzy asked again, impatiently this time. Jinx looked up and Silver glared at her.
‘Holly has ways of controlling Jinx, a very particular type of spell. This is one of them. A new one. A powerful one.’
‘That’s what the Storyteller meant?’ Izzy asked, leaning in close to look as well. It made him uncomfortably aware of her. ‘More tattoos?’
‘What did she say to him?’ Silver asked.
‘I’m right here,’ Jinx replied. ‘I could tell you myself.’
‘Not that we’d be sure you’d tell us everything,’ said Silver. ‘You have an appalling habit of trying to handle everything yourself. Izzy?’
‘She said there would be two more and that each one would tighten it. She called it a noose.’
‘Holly plans to kill him? No, I don’t think so. She always valued him too highly for that.’
She did? That was news to Jinx. And worrying. Why? Why did she value him? Because Holly only valued things that were of use to her. And he didn’t want to be of use to her.
‘What’s the Daughter of Míl?’ asked Izzy.
Silver blinked at her, surprised. ‘That would be you, although I haven’t heard that name in many years.’