‘Well now, we have a predicament,’ said a familiar voice.
Azazel stepped out of the shadows, brushing wisps of darkness from his long black coat. His dark and endless eyes fixed on the two Grigori and he smiled.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Dad in the coldest, calmest voice imaginable.
‘It’s a matter of leverage really. We have a stake in this matter too, you know. The Fear, the Shining Ones … Oh, it has been most enlightening. Lili may be an idiot, but she got on the trail fast enough. She just doesn’t know you like I do, Gregory. She doesn’t know what buttons to push.’
Mum gasped again as the shades around her tightened their grip. They coiled about her body, creeping up towards her mouth, threatening to smother and consume her in an instant if anyone made the wrong move.
‘Let her go.’
‘In time,’ the demon said, his voice still sweet with reason. ‘But I want something in return.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Little Izzy here is going to face Eochaid. She’s going to put him back down in the ground for once and for all. Just her.’
‘She can’t do that, she’s just a child.’
It stung, but at the same time, she agreed with him. This was crazy talk.
‘Oh you’d be surprised what she’s capable of. I’ve seen her stop angels while you were tucked up in bed. Eochaid is trouble, you know it. That psychopath can’t be allowed to go free. And if you do it, David … well, there will be untold consequences. Very angry angels, for example. Not to mention what might happen to you, and to poor Rachel here. No, Izzy does it. She’s strong enough.’
‘Except I don’t know what to do.’
‘Better find out then, hadn’t you? If you want to see mother dearest again.’
‘You want me to kill Eochaid?’
‘Did I say that? Kill Eochaid and you defeat the Fear, but you know what else will get out. That’s the thing with Old Magic. It’s tricky.’
‘You’re talking about the Shining Ones?’
He laughed. ‘The Shining Ones, such a fae name. Call them something pretty and maybe they’ll be flattered and leave you alone. The fae worshipped them, you know? But I suppose some people will worship anyone if they’re frightened enough. There were other names too – Crom Cruach, Crom Dubh and Crom Ceann. They fed on blood and death. We had names for them too, didn’t we David? The angels have names for them you pray you’ll never hear. But look to your legends and see if you want them back.’
Crom Cruach, she knew that name. A dark god, a drinker of blood. Old stories of saints and sacrifice. The others didn’t sound much better. Three demon gods who were defeated long ago.
‘They’re the Shining Ones? But … they talked about Seraphim, about angels higher than angels …’
‘Like I said, call them something flattering and they might just leave you alone. Seraphim—’ He said the word like he was naming a plague, ‘—they never had a sense of proportion.’
‘And what do you want me to do?’
‘What you were born to do, Isabel Gregory. Isn’t that obvious? Stop this, contain them, by whatever means necessary. Even if it means giving yourself up to Eochaid of the Firshee.’
‘No,’ said Dad suddenly. ‘Izzy, don’t listen to him.’
‘I’ve never lied to her, David. Unlike you.’ He reached out and stroked the back of his gnarled fingers along the side of Mum’s face. She squirmed, her whimpers muffled. ‘We’re going to be going now. But these are my demands. David Gregory, you stay out of this. You keep the angels out of it. And Isabel, you go and find the Fear. You put them down by whatever means necessary before Samhain lets them take full form. Or you take their place. Whatever happens, the Shining Ones cannot be released.’
With a flurry of shadows and twisting darkness, they were gone, and Mum with them. Dad yelled her name, throwing himself forward, but he was too late. He crashed onto the tiled floor where she had been.
Mum’s phone kept going to voicemail, but Izzy kept ringing, just in case, despite knowing it was pointless. Wherever they had taken her, there was no signal.
Dad hadn’t slept any more than she had.
This was all her fault. She should have done something, anything, but she’d let it happen.
What if the demons kept her? What if they possessed her? What if they killed her?
She pushed the thoughts away. She had to. How could she do anything useful if she thought about Mum? She wanted to curl up on her bed and weep, take the foetal position and never move again. Not until her Mum was back. But that wasn’t an option for her.
She had to be a Grigori now or she’d fall apart.
‘Dad?’
He grunted at her, so focused on the pile of books in front of him. Trying to find something, anything, to help.
‘Dad, we have to do something.’
‘I am. I will. I’m going to find her, Izzy.’ He sat back, pinching the bridge of his nose and frowning. ‘I’m going to get her back.’
‘I can help.’
‘No.’ It was instant, and devastating. She stared at him, mouth open. ‘You have to carry on as normal. If the angels realise that Azazel has your Mum, that he has such a hold over you and me … they won’t trust me to be impartial. They won’t negotiate.’ He shook his head and groaned. ‘I’ve got to go. I can’t do anything here. If I can track them down, maybe …’
‘So I’m to do nothing?’ She couldn’t believe what he was saying. Surely there was something she could do? She could help him.
‘You’re to provide a smoke screen. Look, you’ve work today, haven’t you?’
‘They asked me to cover at the coffee shop but—’
‘Good, do that. Stay out of trouble. Have the most boring, normal day known to mankind.’
‘You think they’re watching me?’
He smiled. ‘I know it. Angels and demons alike. The fae too, probably. And I’m counting on it. Okay?’ He pulled on his jacket and dug out his car keys. ‘Please Izzy.’
‘You get her back. Promise. No matter what it takes.’
He hugged her, held her close. For a moment she could almost forget everything that was happening, forget the horrors she had seen, the agony she’d felt. She could just be his daughter. Be the little girl who didn’t know any of this ….
But only for a moment. The reality of it crushed her with his next words.
‘I will bring her back. I swear it. Go to work. Get lunch. Go to town and see Dylan and his band play this evening. Just be you. Old you. And I’ll find her.’
After last night she didn’t know what else to say. Mum was gone. Dad was frantic. ‘Sorry’ didn’t seem like anywhere near enough. And besides, part of her was still angry – raging in fact – that he could have treated Jinx that way. That he could have treated both of them that way. At least Jinx had got an explanation, of sorts. She’d warranted nothing at all. Just left in ignorance to think the worst of someone innocent in all this.
But that all seemed to pale into insignificance now.
Mum was gone and somehow it was her fault. Azazel wanted her to face a monster she couldn’t beat. Every time she thought of it she got angry all over again. Spitting angry. Door slamming, incoherent, righteously angry.
And all she could do was shut it out, close away her feeling and try to pretend everything was normal. Just imitate her old life and hope no one noticed.
At least the coffee shop was busy, crammed with mums who had dropped kids at the local GAA grounds for training, seeking comfort from the bitterly cold morning in coffee and gossip. The whole place had been decked out in orange and black, with little witch and cat dolls. Carved pumpkins filled every window ledge, the tea-lights inside them flickering whenever the door opened. She hardly noticed the hours slip away until it was after lunchtime. She checked her phone. There was no word from Dad.
Izzy grabbed a sandwich and sat at the back of the shop, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Clodagh phoned, gabb
ling on about the gig Dylan was playing tonight with his band Denzion and Izzy let her railroad arrangements to meet without knowing if she’d actually go.
Act normal, Dad had said. They can’t suspect anything.
So she just agreed to everything Clodagh said and hung up. If Clodagh thought that was weird she didn’t let on. She seemed delighted.
A short, redheaded man watched her from the far end of the shop. His eyes glinted in a fae way that instantly put her on edge. When he noticed her looking his way, he got up. As he crossed the shop to where she sat, she recognised him as Art, the leprechaun who had spoken to Jinx at the Market. He looked taller outside Dubh Linn, more human than he had. A glamour, no doubt. A way of blending in.
‘Miss Gregory? Do you remember me?’
‘What do you want?’
‘I need your help. It’s rather difficult to explain, but I can show you. It’s to do with …’ He looked around furtively, ‘… with the issue of the Fear. I think I’ve found something. Will you come?’
All her instincts told her it was a bad idea. Her tattoo felt cold, and her skin tight around her.
‘I think you need to leave.’
Unexpectedly his eyes brimmed with tears and his mouth wobbled. He looked like a lost child. ‘Please, Miss Gregory … there’s no one else I can turn to. And as Grigori, surely …’ His voice cracked and the air shook. Cups and saucers clattered on the shelves behind the counter and Izzy surged to her feet. Jinx had warned her. The last thing she needed was a hysterical lep in her workplace. Hours were hard enough to come by as it was and Carla could barely manage since the rebuild. Fae emotions could be devastating to the world around them. All they’d need would be for Art to lose it and the whole place could be wrecked again.
‘Calm down. People are watching.’
‘You have to come with me, Miss Gregory. Please. I think they know, I think …’
She grabbed his arm and hauled him towards the door. ‘All right, all right. I have another couple of hours here and I can’t just leave right now. But afterwards, okay? Meet me outside at four.’
Art babbled out his thanks and sped for the door as fast as he could. Izzy turned back to see Carla looking at her with raised eyebrows.
‘Everything okay?’
She pasted her brightest, fakest smile on her face. ‘Sure. Just … you know …’ What could she say? The only explanation that might work felt excruciating. But she jumped on it anyway. ‘Boy trouble.’
Carla rolled her eyes and turned back to the milk frother. ‘You want to get a better class of boy, Izzy.’
Izzy tried Dad again as the day wore on, but got voicemail every time. And when four rolled around and she knocked off work, Art waited across the road, pacing back and forth like a nervous cat.
‘What is it?’ she asked, zipping her coat up to her neck and shoving her hands deep into her pocket against the cold.
‘Here, come this way. There’s a gate.’
‘Here?’ But she followed him nonetheless, up the busy main street and into an alley by the barbers. There was graffiti here too – human graffiti though, not the remains of an angel, unless angels now looked like babies wearing boxing gloves. Izzy took a deep breath as the lep opened the gateway and they stepped through the Sídheways, emerging onto a wooded hillside, through a gate between a pair of trees growing together, or perhaps one tree that had been split in two when it first started growing.
Izzy looked around, trying to place herself. The light was already fading. This was wild land and the way up was steep. Looking around she could see the sea far below her, through a gap in the trees. And she knew the place.
‘Up here. Quick, this way,’ said Art, scrambling up the steep slope ahead of her. She followed, until the path grew more even and the trees thinned out again, leaving only the rocks, gorse and shadows.
Bray Head. She was on Bray Head, looking back towards that Dalkey Island and Killiney Hill. Izzy could even see the white point of the Obelisk. She thought of Brí, reigning uncontested beneath that hill, her birth mother, volatile and cantankerous, but good, deep down. If you could reach that far. What would she say about the dead and whatever Holly was doing? Should they have gone to her first? But then, all the Aes Sídhe had their own agenda and Brí was no different. Izzy didn’t know exactly how she fitted into Brí’s machinations and she wasn’t exactly keen to find out.
They all had plans, didn’t they?
‘Izzy?’ A lone jogger came to an abrupt halt on the path below her and squinted up. ‘What are you doing here?’
Ash smiled brilliantly, a little out of breath and clearly delighted to see her. She pulled her earbuds out and wound them around her hand. She was still jogging, bouncing on the spot although she wasn’t going anywhere. Who jogged uphill? Who jogged up hills as steep as this?
‘Ash?’ Izzy said, not sure what to say in response. What was she doing here? How did she answer that one? ‘An ancient psycho fairy is sacrificing angels and I want to know why’ didn’t really sound like an explanation many people would be comfortable with. ‘I could ask you the same thing.’ She looked around for Art, but he was nowhere to be seen now. Figured.
The air turned even colder but Ash didn’t seem to notice. ‘Yes, I live here. Well,’ she laughed. ‘Not here. Back there.’ She waved a hand vaguely down towards the town. ‘Are you going up the Head?’
‘I’m … um …’ Izzy looked at the steep slope above her. ‘Walking?’
‘Bit late isn’t it? It’s a long haul up there.’
‘Yeah … I just wanted to um …’
Ash shrugged. ‘I know a shortcut. Come on.’
It wasn’t really a shortcut. Well, if you moved at the superfit pace that Ash seemed capable of maybe every way was a shortcut. Izzy bet they loved her on the hockey team at school.
Still no sign of the lep. He’d gone.
They made their way through the trees, soon out of breath but laughing and passing comments back and forth. Strangely there was no one else around. It was half term, but no one seemed inclined to this walk this afternoon. The cold wind didn’t help, or the early twilight. Finally they broke clear of the trees and pushed their way along paths cut through head high gorse and up the rocky slope until even the gorse fell away, leaving the bare bones of the hill exposed.
By the time they reached the top and looked back down at the sweep of the bay, the mountains and the sprawling town, Izzy was exhausted. The lights were starting to come on below them, glowing red before turning to yellow and white, an ocean of lights picking out the streets and houses. The sea looked dark and endless in comparison, the hilltop deserted. Out towards the horizon, the lighthouse began to blink.
And there was clearly nothing out of the ordinary up there.
Wind pulled at them. Ash grinned with exhilaration, her long black hair whipping out behind her. ‘Isn’t it gorgeous? It’s so beautiful up here, like standing on the edge of heaven.’
‘Yes. Fab. Best sight ever.’ She didn’t even try to make it sound like she meant it. She sat down on the edge of the plinth where the stone cross was planted. And then she felt the air shift, chilling even further. Everything changed, charged with electricity. The mist was crawling up the sides of the mountain. The shadows were getting darker, longer.
‘So that’s it,’ said Ash, oblivious. ‘Not a lot up here really, other than the view. It really is getting late. Want to go back down? We could get a coffee?’
Coffee was the last thing on Izzy’s mind. The earth was humming under her feet, the air charged with static. And it was getting colder by the second. Long shadows stretched from the rocks and stones, spreading towards them, faster and faster. It was getting dark, so dark.
‘Yeah, coffee. Coffee would be great. Let’s go.’
‘Under-caffeinated or something?’ asked Ash, still smiling.
‘Horribly. Come on.’ Izzy made to hook an arm in hers, but she was too late.
A blast of wind struck the ground behind I
zzy like an explosion, flattening the heather and grasses. She could feel them behind her, feel the cold emanating from their shadowy bodies. And then she heard Lili’s voice.
‘Going so soon? What a shame. And I haven’t even met your new friend.’ Shadows surged up around them and the two girls backed up towards the cross.
‘Ash …’ Izzy tried to say something, anything that would get her out of this unscathed. But she couldn’t think of a way. ‘Ash just stay still, stay behind me.’
Lili smiled, showing all her teeth. ‘Well now … Tell all Izzy. Who is this?’ The demon circled her and Izzy could see her rictus skull grin again. The girlish face was still in place, still perfect and chilling. She wore a suit this time, black and expensive from the cut and the lines. Too expensive for Izzy to know the make, that was for sure. Her long hair was plaited in countless little braids that hissed like snakes as they brushed against each other.
Had Art known she’d be here? Had he brought her here for Lili? Where the hell had he gone?
‘Lili, I don’t know what you want from me, but she has nothing to do with this. Let us go.’
‘Poor little girls, is that it? Innocents abroad. My favourite kind.’
The shadows rushed closer. ‘Don’t let them touch you,’ Izzy warned. She felt for the knife, knowing that if she pulled it out she’d freak Ash out completely. But what else could she do. ‘I should never have brought you with me. I should have come alone.’
Ash didn’t answer. She’d managed to back up onto the plinth beneath the cross.
Lili ignored Ash now. Perhaps in the shadow of the cross she was untouchable to the shades. Izzy fervently hoped so. This left her with the demon grinning in her face. ‘Well, yes. You here alone would have been the simplest solution, but no matter. Here you are and here we are. So why exactly are we here, Izzy?’
Oh, God, she couldn’t tell Lili that. Even if she had a solid answer. She couldn’t tell Lili that Holly was killing angels and why, that Eochaid was after her, and that Azazel wanted her to confront him. Somehow. She certainly couldn’t mention the Shining Ones. ‘I just … I was just … I wanted to walk.’