“I suppose,” she hissed, “you want to thank me.”
“No, I want to apologize. Killing your own kind…I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been.”
“She was Alfar—it wasn’t as difficult as you imagine.”
“But you hesitated.”
She flicked her tail, pounding it against the leaves and twigs on the forest floor. “Ending any life, even that of a traitor, is unfortunate.”
“Especially when what you’re fighting for may result in the survival of my species.”
She hissed. The hair stood up on my neck, even though she posed no danger to me.
“I wanted to apologize about doubting you,” I said.
“Soooo, you want to be friends?” she growled.
“No. Honestly, I don’t like you very much.”
She laughed. “The feeling is mutual.”
“I know. Still, I underestimated you and for that, I’m sorry. For what you had to do tonight, I’m grateful.”
She let out a long, low growl. “I am sure I will regret this for the next thousand years…but I apologize for doubting you, as well. Three months ago, I thought we were making a horrible mistake—trusting a human to learn Aether, believing you had the courage to risk everything—I never believed you could do it, or bring the clans together.”
“Bastien—”
“No,” she growled, cutting me off. “They are working together because of you—not Bastien. Since we are being honest, I will admit that it still terrifies me that our future depends on you. Do not let us down, Maggie O’Shea.” Amadahy sprang fifty feet to the top of the bluff and darted into the darkness, cloaking as she did.
“Well, that went well,” I said to myself.
* * *
I walked back to the Cottage and found Billy waiting for me. “How are you holding up?” he asked with a slightly pensive expression.
The look on Billy’s face made me stop and think about the answer. “I don’t really know.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
I hugged him. “Like you haven’t done enough already—hiding in a hole in the ground for weeks on end, and keeping my family safe with a mole right under your nose.”
Billy nodded. “I’d like to say I’m surprised she was providing information, but nothing surprises me anymore. Nothing compares to Ozara’s deceit—so perhaps I’ve just grown jaded.”
“You were jaded before,” I teased.
Billy’s head rocked back and he belted out a laugh. “You think so?”
“Well, you left the Seelie clan and stopped associating with Fae for almost a century. And let’s not forget you shoveled poop at a big cat reserve for years, all the while wondering if you made the wrong decision about humans.”
He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “You have a point.”
“So, you really weren’t surprised that Faye was a traitor?”
“No.”
“She fooled me.”
“She didn’t fool Justice—that dog is remarkable. He despised her—growled every time she got close to your family.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “I didn’t ask, but that’s probably why Wakinyan never let her out of his sight.”
“How is the Quint coming?”
“I’m getting better.”
“Want a few tips?” I joked.
Billy shook his head, fighting to subdue a smile. “Things have changed a great deal since the day you first flattened a square into a rock.”
“Purple. I remember. That was almost two years ago.”
“It was nearly two years ago,” he said. “But that wasn’t purple—Gavin is coming.”
“Thanks for talking to me—and it most certainly was purple.”
Billy grinned and walked past the darkened cottage, nodding at Gavin as they passed one another.
“You found Amadahy?”
I nodded.
Gavin gave me a quizzical look. He lifted his eyebrows and looked surprised. “She’s still alive? Remarkable restraint—I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Oh shut up,” I said, equally amused and annoyed. A soft laugh, and then a quick movement, and he had my body pinned to his. Smart, funny, a little ornery, and completely caring—I loved Gavin for many reasons that had nothing to do with his smoldering hotness, but damn, what a fringe benefit.
“Did she say anything to you?”
“Yeah, she did. It’s the first time she talked directly to me.”
He lifted me off the ground until we were face to face. “Well, that’s a start.”
“Yeah, maybe in a hundred years she’ll stop hissing at me.”
He grinned broadly, “Sure, two hundred tops.”
“I still can’t believe Faye was the mole. I felt horrible when she died—the way she died.”
The pleasant look melted and his eyes seemed bigger than normal. “I’m sorry you had to see that…and that you had to kill this morning.”
An icy cold shiver ran down my spine and the empty feeling in my stomach returned. “It’s so ugly,” I said, unable to hold his gaze any more. “Killing is becoming easier for me—I didn’t even hesitate. That scares the hell out of me, Gavin—I never thought I’d be that person.”
He pulled my chin around until I had to look him in the eye. “You had no choice.”
“You’re being nice. I know it bothered you when I killed the Fae this morning—it bothered you how I killed them.”
“It bothered me that you had to—I saw the horror on your face, the tears in your eyes. That’s what bothered me. You didn’t torture them, you didn’t prolong their end—it was violent, but fast. Killing anything that doesn’t wish to die is always violent.”
“You know the part that bothers me the most?”
He nodded. “I do. You know you’re not done—and there are a few you look forward to killing.”
His words weren’t intended to be accusatory, I knew that much, but they felt that way. “Doesn’t that disgust you?”
Gavin shook his head. “We’re all scarred—damaged in one way or another. I am no different, my love. We’re in a fight for survival. Sometimes you have to kill, and kill you must. The greatest challenge is to resist letting the darkness win—and you know what darkness I’m talking about. It breaks my heart that you know it, but you do. When the threat is abated, we must sublimate that darkness, use it to make us wiser. Remember it so we can cherish this life a little more. But enough of death and killing. It’s late, and you haven’t slept in two days. Could I talk you into getting some rest?”
His words made me feel better. They didn’t rationalize away what I’d done. I’d eliminated hundreds of thousands of years of life, innumerable stories and observations—nothing could rinse that away. Instead, his words offered hope that if I survived, I might be able to live with myself.
“Rest. That’s actually at the top of my to-do list.”
“Good, if you promise to sleep at least six hours, I’ll give you a surprise in the morning.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll find out six hours after your eyes close—and I’ll know if you’re projecting, so don’t even think about it.”
TWENTY-FOUR
GREEN DEATH
Sunlight tickled my senses. I wanted to sleep a little longer, but the brightness pushed through my closed lids, stirring my brain just enough that I realized I wanted a glass of water. I pushed off the blankets and stared at the tongue and groove boards in the ceiling of the tiny study. They were pale blue. Candace, in the fetal position, lay sound asleep beside me. As quietly as I could, I got to my feet and checked the gold watch Gavin made for me after Dad died. A little after eight o’clock—I’d been asleep for seven hours and ten minutes—seventy minutes longer than I promised Gavin. The pocket door slid silently into the wall. Mitch slept on the floral couch in the living room, and Ronnie was sprawled over one of the arm chairs, mouth open and a string of drool puddled on his shoulder. Sean snored soft
ly in the other.
I tiptoed to the back of the cottage and down the narrow hall, trying not to creak any floorboards. Stiff and dizzy, my mind was on water and nothing else. At the threshold, I briefly surveyed the bright but tiny kitchen and jumped when I saw Mom staring back at me.
“Good morning,” she said, nursing a cup of coffee. The smell hit me almost immediately. At once I forgot about water.
“Any…” I cleared my throat, “…any more of that,” I whispered.
Mom smiled. Even this early in the morning, she looked gorgeous. I stumbled to the tiny white table as she retrieved a large mug from the painted cupboard and poured a steaming stream of hot java for me.
She wrapped her robe a little tighter and sat beside me. “I forgot how much I missed this.”
“Me, too,” I said, after a tentative sip, the nutty flavor washing over my tongue.
“Is that good for him,” I asked, looking at her coffee and then her belly.
Mom chuckled softly. “You and Mitch turned out just fine—and despite what anyone might say, Tadewi said it was perfectly fine. I just love her.”
“She’s great—and she undoubtedly heard that.”
Mom nodded. “Good.”
There was an awkward silence as we exchanged looks. I wondered if her mind was spinning as fast as mine was.
“Mom, how did this happen?”
She reached across and took my hand. Her grip was firm, warm. “I’ve asked myself that so many times over the last six weeks—I don’t think we’re supposed to know the answer, at least not yet. When it’s over we can debate it.”
We stared into each other’s eyes—it was that connection that only a mother and daughter could have. I felt the tears begin to well up. “This is ridiculous. I’m sorry.”
“No,” she whispered. “It’s not. Talk to me.”
I circled us with my Air barrier. “Mom, I don’t want this. With everything I can do, I’d give it all up to go back in time—to my sixteenth birthday party.”
She sighed and let her eyes drift to the window. She chuckled and smiled, appearing to relive some memory.
“What?”
She pulled her lips to one side and raised an eyebrow. “I was just thinking about that day, how happy you looked when you were dancing with him—how bad you were at hiding how much you liked him.”
I felt my face blush.
“I knew there was something different about him.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” she said. She took another sip of coffee and made me wait while she swallowed. “Every boy at that party stared at you—in that tiny little dress, how could they not. Gavin was the only one who never took his eyes off your face—I should have known then he wasn’t human.”
I laughed. “That’s pretty hard to swallow, I bet.”
She nodded. “I’d be lying if I told you that it didn’t bother me a lot. At first, I was furious and I didn’t understand. You’re my daughter. I always saw you meeting a handsome young man, falling in love, and having a family—I imagined grandkids that I could spoil rotten. You may not realize this, but I think most parents envision their children’s future. I had a very hard time understanding how you could give that up for someone like Gavin. It frightened me.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
“No, don’t apologize to me.” A faint, uncomfortable smile formed on her lips. “Do you love him?”
Tears rolled down my face and I nodded, unable to squeak out a sound.
She wiped her own eyes and smiled. “That’s all that matters to me, Piñata. That and, of course, that he loves you—I know he does. He still stares into your eyes the same way. When he and Wakinyan looked after us in Fayetteville, Gavin was miserable. I felt the pain he experienced being away from you. He volunteered to go to Ireland, even knowing they might kill him. If he loves you enough to risk his immortality, who am I to judge? Besides that, he is so good to Mitch and me. I said some hateful things to him, things I’m embarrassed about now, but he only showed me love and compassion.”
“I don’t think most people would understand.”
“Most people wouldn’t understand any of this, but I’m not most people.”
“Mom, you know how this might turn out.”
She slumped in the chair, her chin dropped to her chest. She nodded.
“I’m scared for you,” I said.
She wept, shoulders shaking. I pulled her to me. “I can’t think about that. I pray every day that you make it.”
“I know you do.”
“There is nothing I wouldn’t do to take your place. The parent is supposed to protect their child, not the other way around. And the other two Maebowns…”
“Mom, I’m going to do everything I can to be the exception.”
She stifled the anguish and wiped her eyes. “I know. We will celebrate many more of your birthdays—eighteen is not enough. It’s just not enough.”
Bathed in the morning light, I squeezed her and nodded.
* * *
Mom and I composed ourselves before anyone else woke up. She and I worked side-by-side to make breakfast. I felt Gavin materialize at the fountain. Telepathically, he asked me if I was ready.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Yes what?” Candace asked.
I rolled my eyes at her. She grinned and stabbed a piece of sausage.
“Spill it, girl,” Ronnie said. His mother giggled like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Grandpa stared at her until grandma elbowed him gently in the ribs.
“Gavin has something to show me,” I said.
When I said it, he walked through the front door. Faded jeans, white cotton t-shirt clutching the muscles in his chest and shoulders. My stomach fluttered when he grinned at me. “They can all come,” he said.
I was slightly disappointed it wasn’t a private surprise, but I forgot all about that when he held his hand out.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out. Follow me—and remember, no peeking. Turn your senses off.”
Under a brilliant blue sky laced with puffy white clouds, we trekked down the drive in a chatting procession. It was the oddest sensation—it felt almost like a normal day. After a hundred yards, I realized there were bird songs in the woods, and crickets.
“Wait, there’s noise.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, “some of the local fauna has begun to return.”
A breeze blew up from the lake, and on it I caught a whiff of cedar and honeysuckle—they were perfumes I’d forgotten. At the bend before the cottage ruins, I half expected to see the garden restored. But everything beyond the garden wall was gone-even the burned ruins. There was nothing but raw, dark brown topsoil.
“I don’t get it. What happened?” I asked. The disappointment was hard to mask, but as I reached the wall, I sensed something else entirely. Smells. So many smells. Wisteria, roses, sage, lilac—my heart beat faster.
“No cheating,” he whispered.
“I’m only using my nose.”
“What is it?” Mom asked.
Gavin turned to her. “It was Sara’s idea, and the entire Ohanzee clan helped—some of the Olympians, too.” The Clóca barrier fell. “Welcome home.”
My eyes blurred and my throat burned. Smokey plum tiled roof, diamond paned windows, whimsical chimneys, all intact—Aunt May’s cottage stood exactly as I remembered it. And the garden I thought was lost bloomed as though nothing had ever happened. Sara moved gracefully to the gate.
Mitch sounded almost out of breath, “Is it real?”
“Of course, though we do need to hide it…so come inside…quickly, through the gate.”
“And if they destroy it again?” Mitch asked.
“Then I will rebuild it,” Sara said.
* * *
Sara sat on my bed, clutching a pillow to her chest, staring out my open window. The familiar sight made me dizzy for a moment.
“I don’t know what to say.”
?
??You don’t need to say anything.”
“How did you get them to agree?”
“Maggie, we don’t sleep. And given what your family has been through, a little familiarity seemed like the most appropriate move.”
“And…”
She smiled and twirled her finger—the universal sign for Air barrier.
“It’s up.”
“We have plans for the Seoladán.”
“I take it you mean the original?”
“Yes, we mean to restore it—and then hide it. If the Alliance attacks, Ozara will take out the temporary one on the second island—at least that is the consensus. If we can repair the one on the hill—”
“Then we have an advantage—or a backdoor.”
Sara frowned. “It’s true. Zeus insisted that there be another way off the Weald, but it will not come to that.”
“Why cloak the cottage—Ozara will find out soon enough.”
“She’d expect it to be cloaked, and if she doesn’t know we are aware of her ability to project…”
“Right. Of course.”
“That was Billy’s idea.”
I laughed. “And it doesn’t hurt that my family will be living here, either?”
Sara’s small mouth turned down at the edges. “You and your family will be a target wherever you’re at. If our goal is to force Ozara to come here herself, then what better way than a visual slap in the face.”
“What if this isn’t enough?”
She pushed the pillow off her waist and dropped it on the white duvet. “I don’t know. We’ll think of something else.”
“I’d like to know what they plan to do about Yellowstone.”
Sara exhaled. “Billy is going to—”
“Billy?” I protested, immediately worried about him.
“Calm down.”