A Hollow in the Hills

‘Like Orpheus,’ said Silver. ‘That’s how he died. And you’ll go the same way. Won’t you?’

  Orpheus … why would he think of Orpheus? The musician, the poet, the prophet who lost his wife and couldn’t bring her back from the underworld. The land of the dead …

  ‘You aren’t Silver.’

  ‘Silver’s gone. You think you know her, but you’re a fool. The Sídhe will tear you apart to get at the power inside you. Without Silver’s protection, you’re fair game.’

  ‘So what? I should just give up? I should let her do whatever she wants? I’m not a slave.’

  ‘You’re not even a slave. You’re a battery.’ The laugh didn’t sound anything like Silver’s laugh.

  ‘Who are you?’

  The image wavered and changed until his own face looked back at him. Once more Dylan swung the guitar like a weapon and ran.

  All Jinx knew was pain and darkness. The cell door opened and Holly stood over him, in his nightmares, in all he could remember. It was always Holly.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Jinx by Jasper.’

  She shook her head and the lash descended, cutting his skin, tearing it open until he screamed.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Jinx by—’

  She struck again and again. He was only a child, barely more than an infant. He remembered this, right from the start when she took him. He’d never known pain or misery. But Brí had cast him out, cursed him and now, in spite of Silver’s promise to look after him, he lived in darkness and pain.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Jinx,’ he gasped, unable at last to say the rest.

  ‘Jinx,’ she said. ‘How apt. A jinx indeed, to all who have known you. Come here.’

  He had to crawl because he didn’t have the strength left to stand. She bent down and stroked his head, then grabbed him by the jaw, hauling him up for a moment before letting him drop back down in a heap at her feet.

  ‘Well, you’ll have to do. Bring the equipment. We have work to do. You.’ She pointed to Osprey. It was the first time Jinx could recall seeing him – huge, towering over him, his feathered cloak fluttering, his hands impossibly strong. ‘Restrain him.’

  ‘Don’t fight, lad,’ he whispered in that soft, terrifying voice. But Jinx couldn’t help it. Osprey held him down on the stinking floor, in pools of blood and piss and who knew what. Some of the others gathered around them laughed, Osprey was silent and Jinx sobbed until he had no voice left. No one helped him.

  Where was Silver? She had promised. She’d said she’d look after him, protect him. She’d promised. The promise of one of the Sídhe was meant to mean something, wasn’t it?

  ‘We need to get control of that wild magic in you before it leaks out,’ said Holly, brandishing a tattoo machine like a gun designed by Jules Verne on acid. Not that he’d known about Jules Verne then. Or acid. He’d been an innocent. He could see the indigo ink swirling around, mixing with silver. It would hurt, had hurt. He recalled the agony, because all this happened years ago. And it was happening again.

  Every detail.

  ‘Please. Don’t, please.’

  ‘Are you begging, Jinx?’ She sounded amused.

  Would it work? It never worked. But he couldn’t help it. ‘Yes. I’m begging.’ Maybe this time. Maybe this one time … ‘Please, Grandmother, please don’t.’

  She stepped on his face, grinding him into the ground, the heel of her shoe perilously close to his eyes. Just a slip and she’d blind him, intentionally or not. And she wouldn’t care.

  ‘No true grandchild of mine would beg. Now, hold still. This is going to hurt. A lot.’

  He didn’t want to scream. He didn’t want to beg again. He didn’t want to be weak and plead.

  But he did. He kept on screaming, pleading, begging and promising anything she wanted until he passed out.

  That didn’t bring peace though. It was like waking to something else. The black horse with golden eyes was waiting for his pathetic and broken soul.

  ‘You aren’t a horse,’ said Jinx, gathering something of his own present self to guard himself.

  It slid into the form of a hound effortlessly.

  ‘You aren’t Cú Sídhe either.’

  It took on that long eared, hooved form that was almost human but not really. It would never be mistaken for human.

  ‘Neither are you,’ said the Púca. ‘Not entirely.’

  He swallowed hard. ‘I’m… I’m Jinx.’

  ‘Yes.’ The Púca smiled. ‘Always. Until she has her way, and then you won’t even be that anymore. The angel gave her the idea I think, that she should move now, that she couldn’t wait anymore. She’d taken you, prepared you, moulded you and she nearly lost you to Sorath. It must have driven her wild.’

  ‘How do I escape her?’

  ‘You die.’

  Jinx sighed. ‘I’ve done that. It didn’t help.’

  The Púca shook his head. ‘You didn’t stay dead. That angel again. You never even made it to Donn’s halls that time, it was so quick. Barely a missed breath. There has to be a sacrifice, Jinx, and once there is wild magic will take over. Dying alone doesn’t help. You change, transform. That’s how we work. We aren’t born Púca, you know? Nothing is.’

  ‘So you were Cú Sídhe?’

  ‘Once.’

  ‘And you – you were my father?’

  He reached out his hand, black and scarred from fires, the claws instead of nails repulsive and strange.

  ‘Was and Is and Will be get confused here. When the time comes, you’ll have to choose. If you choose unwisely, Holly will win. Chances are she will win anyway. Nothing in life is fair and Holly knows it. She covers all her bases, boy. She has plans within plans and a thousand contingencies. I felt it moving, taking shape. All things of wild magic did, all the solitaries, all the people of the edges. I came for you, Jinx, but I can only do so much. You are the one who must act.’

  It sounded as hopeless as he had feared. How could he stand against Holly? ‘Then what can I do?’

  ‘There was a moment—’ said his father ‘—a single moment when you were more yourself than ever before. You need to hold on to that. Do you remember it?’

  On the hill, that terrible night, holding Izzy as she lay dying in his arms, begging her to forgive him, telling her he loved her. He couldn’t say it now though. He couldn’t heave the words into his mouth.

  The Púca smiled sadly and vanished without giving an answer. Darkness closed in around Jinx.

  ‘Shall we begin again?’ asked Holly and Osprey’s violent, uncaring hands seized him, pinning him down.

  Izzy found herself on a rock surrounded by the sea, the waves churning and splashing, sending spray up into the air around her. She knew the place. She was sure she knew it, but a curious haze settled on her brain whenever she tried to focus on it.

  In the water beneath her, the merrows were circling. Their song rose through the water, beautiful and hypnotic, but she knew she couldn’t listen to it. She knew they’d kill her in an instant if they could. She remembered that much.

  The rest was foggy.

  It was worse than coming through the gate. This time there was no Jinx there with her, no one to rely on but herself. She was alone. Stranded.

  ‘Remember this?’ said a voice.

  She looked around to where a slender man sat in a little round boat made of willow and animal skins. He wore black from head to toe, modern clothing starkly contrasting the ancient vessel. He had dark glasses with little round lenses on and his auburn hair glowed in the light of the setting sun.

  ‘Remember what?’ she asked.

  The wind blew louder, sharper, and the song of the merrows grew even louder. She had to shake her head to fight off its effect.

  ‘This.’ He held out her salmon necklace and she felt her neck, surprised to find it wasn’t there. It was gone.

  ‘That’s mine.’

  ‘No. You threw it away.’

&nb
sp; To save herself and Jinx – she remembered him telling her that if she didn’t remember the actual event. It was scrubbed clean from her mind by the Storyteller’s book. But she had last had it here on this rock and Jinx had been with her. Where was he now? What had happened to him? ‘It’s still mine.’

  The man dangled it out over the water. ‘Come and take it then.’

  The water churned beneath his boat, and it rocked precariously. She saw the merrows fighting up from the depths, ready to tip him, seize the necklace and the man. They’d rip him to bloody shreds in the water.

  ‘Look out,’ she shouted, starting to her feet, reaching out for him.

  And they weren’t in the sea anymore. The rock she stood on was surrounded by gorse and scrubby grass. She stood on Killiney Hill, not far from the Wishing Stone.

  ‘You should have died there,’ said the man, looking at the step pyramid where she and Jinx had defeated Sorath.

  ‘Believe me, I tried.’

  ‘You don’t mean that. You didn’t want to die.’

  ‘Who does?’ She climbed down gingerly, relieved to have her feet back on land.

  ‘You’d be surprised.’ He joined her, a willowy figure still dressed all in black, the small round smoky-lensed glasses like something from long ago. She couldn’t see his eyes beneath them. Though he moved smoothly, with an easy and elegant grace, she sensed something off. He moved by instinct rather than sight, feeling the world around him.

  ‘You’re blind,’ she blurted out and instantly regretted the rudeness. Her face burned scarlet with embarrassment. What was she thinking? You didn’t just say things like that.

  ‘My eyes cannot see,’ he corrected her, completely unruffled. ‘But I am far from blind.’

  ‘You’re Donn.’ And she knew she was right, the moment she named him. Donn was still smiling. The smile never faltered.

  ‘You see more clearly than most.’

  ‘I have to stop the Fear. Their King Eochaid – if I don’t—’

  ‘The angels and the demons will fight no matter what you do. It is their sole purpose in life.’

  ‘What about Jinx?’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘Can I save him?’

  ‘Yes. But you may not like what you have to do. And saving … saving comes in many forms. But you can save him. Look—’ He pointed to the Wishing Stone and flames erupted into the night.

  She saw herself wreathed in fire, her magic, controlled by Sorath, lit up the night and Jinx on his knees, helpless before her. She reached out, drew him to his feet and kissed him.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he had whispered, his lips against hers. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

  The image paused, like a still frame in a movie and Donn peered closer.

  ‘There’s hardly anything left of him really. He’d already died in the Market and your angel dragged him back. Maybe she didn’t bring all of him with her. She should have killed him again right then. He ought to have been mine. Maybe he still should be. Did she know what he is? Do you think?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Always with the questions, Isabel Gregory. Jinx is barely there. Holly spent years scourging the spirit from him, entwining him with her spells. He’s more empty than anyone I’ve ever seen. Probably why he can betray so readily.’

  ‘He doesn’t betray—’

  ‘Really? If I’d asked then on the rock, what would you have said? He can’t be trusted because he’s barely there. Pour something into an empty vessel and what does it become? Does the substance change because of the thing holding it? Why do you keep returning to that moment with the merrows? What then, exactly? You saved him. He kissed you. And—?’

  She remembered. His kiss had been savage, out of control, but more honest than he had ever been with her up to that point. It had been made of raw need and desire and she had wanted it. And then—then—

  ‘He used you, Isabel,’ said Donn.

  ‘We couldn’t have got out any other way. His piercings couldn’t be taken out.’

  ‘He didn’t try. Faced with the prospect of using you or removing one scrap of Holly’s magic on him, he chose to use you.’

  ‘It’s history.’

  ‘History repeats. He left you. He didn’t even explain.’

  She straightened up, her hands on her hips, her head held high. Enough was enough. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘The truth,’ he said. ‘Look at him. Know him.’

  Golden light filled Jinx, seeping out of his pores, blazing from his eyes. She could see the other inside him. Wild magic, they called it. The Shining Ones – no wonder they were called the Shining Ones. Seraphs were barely controllable, the nuclear option …

  So dangerous that even the angels were willing to do anything to stop their escape.

  ‘How do I stop it?’ she asked. ‘How do I save him?’

  ‘Have you thought it might not be possible to do both?’

  Questions, questions and more questions. How was she to get a bloody answer if he just asked more questions?

  ‘I have to try.’

  ‘Try. But don’t expect to win. Not this time. Sacrifices have to mean something. Ask three questions. I’ll answer then for you.’

  ‘How do I stop the Fear?’

  ‘You imprison Eochaid. Or kill him. Like any ancient monster. Cut off the head and the rest will fall.’

  ‘That’s what Holly wants. If I kill Eochaid, the Shining Ones go free and Jinx is lost. I won’t do it. I won’t kill him. I can’t. If I do the Shining Ones will get out and we all lose. Isn’t that the way it works?’

  ‘Are you sure that’s your question?’ He laughed, a dry, bitter laugh and answered before she could change her mind. ‘There’s a way out. For a price.’

  And what’s the price? That should have been the next question. But she hadn’t asked about Jinx yet. She didn’t know how to stop the Shining Ones if Holly did call them. She didn’t know how to stop the angels if they came for Jinx after all. She stared at Donn, helpless in indecision.

  ‘What … what would you do?’ she blurted out.

  The wind stopped, the hillside slipped away into darkness, the visions faded to nothing.

  She found herself kneeling on a stone paved floor her head tilted back as if in supplication. High overhead, the dull bronze ceiling barely reflected the light. But there were candles everywhere. Half melted, candles upon candles, towers of old wax. They clung to the walls, to the crevices between the stones and dripped down to form stalagmites on the ground.

  Jinx lay beside her, still as death. Dylan was sprawled a little further off, near Clodagh. None of them moved.

  Izzy pulled herself up shakily and searched the long flickering shadows.

  ‘I told you she was different,’ said Reaper. He stood by a dais dominated by the statue of a man in a throne.

  No, not a statue she realised. A man, dressed all in black, slender and pale. He had auburn hair and wore wire-framed dark glasses with blacker than black lenses, just as he’d had in his vision. He didn’t move. He didn’t even seem to breathe.

  Izzy faced him, her hands balled to fists at her side. ‘Well?’ she asked again. ‘You didn’t answer. What would you do?’

  ‘What would I do?’ The voice echoed around them, though Donn didn’t move his lips, didn’t appear to speak at all. There was no doubting the source though. She knew the voice by now. Donn, Lord of the Dead. ‘I’d follow my conscience, Isabel Gregory. Take the Blade then. Make it the weapon you need. Or use it to heal your beloved. The choice and the Blade are yours, but don’t say you weren’t warned. Use it at your peril. It will only work once, do you understand? Only once. And there is a price.’

  ‘What price?’

  ‘I said only three questions. You asked them. Reaper, take them to rooms and let them rest.’

  ‘I won’t kill Eochaid. I won’t kill Jinx or hand him over. We don’t have time to rest. We—’

  Donn moved then, suddenly, lifting his han
d and snapping his fingers. The click echoed loudly off the bronzed ceiling of his hollow. Izzy crashed into unconsciousness.

  Jinx woke to find Ash looking at him, her face up close to his, her expression one of intent study. He held her gaze until she looked away.

  ‘It’s rude to stare,’ he said. ‘Did no one ever tell you that?’

  ‘I’ve been waiting for one of you to snap out of it, locked up here in the darkness. Our hosts are less than charming.’

  ‘Can’t you just fly out of here?’

  ‘I have no power here. Donn is … well … he’s more powerful than I imagined.’

  ‘Where’s Izzy?’

  She just gave him that knowing smile again. ‘You really do care for her, don’t you?’

  ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’

  ‘Ah, but it is. My business, I mean. She is my business.’

  ‘And here I thought you’d been sacked.’

  ‘People think all sorts of things. Are you going to tell her?’

  ‘Tell her what?’

  But he knew what she meant. Angels saw far too much. He hated her for it.

  ‘I think she deserves to know, Jinx.’

  ‘I’ll tell her when I need to. There’s no point yet. It’ll just give her something else to worry about. And she doesn’t need that.’

  ‘Did you see him? Your father?’

  He nodded carefully. ‘Did you know?’

  ‘We … suspected.’ So no, was the actual answer because otherwise she would have just said it.

  ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘That you have the same potential inside you. Or perhaps less because of your mother’s blood. Although, with all Holly did to you… it’s hard to say.’

  ‘A great help, Ash. Thanks.’

  ‘I try my best.’

  Sarcasm wasn’t her strong point was it? Or maybe she was better at it than he was. He swallowed hard and glared at the angel with determination. ‘Keep her safe, Ash. Don’t let her do anything stupid. Just tell her … just keep her safe.’

  ‘I will,’ said Ash solemnly. ‘I promise.’

  Could he trust that? He ought to be able to do so. She was an angel after all. But he was Sídhe. The two didn’t exactly go together.