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C H A P T E R   1 0    -   S c é a l   t a i b h s í    ( p t   1)

For the longest time they were both silent. The soft hum of Orlaith’s stereo suffused the room, turning what would normally be an awkward situation into a rather pleasant one. Finally she looked up from her tea mug and spoke.

‘Thank you. Again. I honestly couldn’t handle them tonight.’

‘I could see that,’ he muttered, watching her face carefully. ‘Órlaith, what did the boy tell you?’

‘I… I don’t know. It didn’t make much sense. Maybe he was just scared.’

‘Scared of what?’ She shrugged in answer, yet somehow he knew. He knew she was lying and it surprised him how easy it was to read the lie in her. The way she squirmed under his scrutiny. The way she kept biting her lip.

Finally she looked back up at him, blue eyes sharp. ‘You never told me why Cassidy targeted you. Why were you easy prey?’

He started opening his mouth and with shock realised for the first time in forever it was not to finish the conversation. He wasn’t sure he was ready to tell his story. He wasn’t sure he ever will be. But for some insane reason this was the moment he needed to tell it. She was the person he wanted to tell it to. And just like that he put his mug down on the nightstand and talked.

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C H A P T E R   1 0    -   S c é a l   t a i b h s í    ( p t   2)

D u b l i n,   2 0 1 6

There are a few moments in your life when the universe stops and lets you steer. Pivotal moments that can change the entire course of your life. Moments that, no matter how hard you keep running from, catch up and put a gun in your hand. Decisions like these can be deadly.

Some of them not for you.

The first time I realised she was flirting with me I didn’t do anything. I should have. Maybe if I did things would go different. But I was struck. I couldn’t, for the life of me, imagine why a pretty young girl would look at my face and say, man, I have to get me some of that. I was a teacher and I spend most of my time buried in dusty books and student papers. The high points of my socialisation were a few exchanges with faculty members and greeting my neighbour’s dog on the porch.

But the girl looked up at me and she was too pretty and I was too scared and all of a sudden I was lost to her…

I never even considered how lost she became in me. And I never considered I would be the one to make her fall.

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C H A P T E R   1 0    -   S c é a l   t a i b h s í    ( p t   3)

That night on that roof I still couldn’t believe I was there. I was watching my life flashing on a big screen from afar, like a film. All the tragedy and drama and pain, it wasn’t my life. I never has been. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say.

Still I spoke and the words coming from my mouth sounded stupid, robotic, fake. I spoke a lot about how she mattered, about the people who cared, but I didn’t know who they, I didn’t know anyone she mattered to. I didn’t know anything about her and somehow she knew everything about me.

The only way I could’ve saved her would be to kill a piece of me. I should’ve done that. But I couldn’t. I was not strong enough then. Sometimes I wonder whether I’m strong enough now.

I watched her close her eyes and I knew she was gone. Moments before she stepped back, moments before her body fell and hit the ground. When I whispered her name and she closed her eyes she was already dead and her hesitant step back was nothing short of a confirmation.

I lost her five minutes before she even decided to take the leap and when the police came I lied my ass off.

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C H A P T E R   1 1    -   S í o f r a    ( p t   1)

Cassidy arrived just before noon the next day. He knocked on the door twice and waited until Órlaith opened, staring at him with wide, unnerving eyes. She invited him in and brewed a mug of coffee, huffing and nodding to his polite attempts at conversation. She never opened her mouth to answer to anything until they sat down at the table and Cassidy asked, ‘How are you feeling today, Miss Hannigan?’

He spoke Irish and she breathed a sight of relief at that. She hated talking to him. She hated talking to him in Irish a little less. ‘I’m fine,’ she replied. The more tentative, ‘How is the boy?’

‘He is… adjusting. They wanted to keep him in the hospital for the night, but the parents should be picking him up as we speak. Aside from a few cuts and bruises he seems unharmed.’

‘I’m glad. Did he say anything? About what happened?’

It was clear in Cassidy’s face that he didn’t believe a word he was about to say as he huffed, ‘Apparently he just got lost on his way home. He didn’t see or speak to anyone until he found you.’

Órlaith nodded, but just like Cassidy had trouble believing it. He was missing for over a week. A child alone in that? What did he eat? Where did he sleep? And how come nobody saw him wandering? ‘I’m just glad he is alright,’ she resolved. ‘But what about the girl?’

‘We will keep looking.’

<  P r e v i o u s    ☾   N e x t   >

C H A P T E R   1 1    -   S í o f r a    ( p t   2)

Hours moved slowly that day. After Cassidy left Órlaith spend her day busy in her mother’s dusty library, walking her fingers down cracked spines of scary stories and fairy-tales. She tried to pretend she didn’t know what she was looking for, but deep inside a voice kept whispering. She was hunting for answers, still far too afraid to face the possibility of her finding some.

She searched through all the books, finding scraps and promises, but never the full story, the one she needed, desperately trying to remember her mother’s fading words. The names were always different, but the story itself… there was something eerily familiar about the story. About the taste, the sound, the desperate cries…

‘Síofra,’ she whispered, not realising her lips were moving, forming the world deliberately, with caution. It couldn’t be. It was insane. It was a pebble rubbing against her toe in the boot of her consciousness, knocking around and around until she gave in and spoke it aloud. The way it rolled off her tongue made the hair on her neck and arms rise.

When an old dusty volume of Celtic mythology hit the ground behind her she almost screamed, ready to bolt. She twisted, wild, scared eyes turning to the culprit standing in the doorway.

Padrick O’Leary stood over the book, collecting it with pale, shaky fingers. ‘I… so sorry. The door… it was unlocked and I called for you but you didn’t answer so…’

‘It’s… fine,’ she muttered, rising to her feet. When he held up the book to her, she didn’t take it. ‘Do your parents know you’re here?’

‘No. I felt like they might not approve.’

Smart kid. Or maybe, not as smart… ‘So, why did you come here?’

‘Because I think you’re the only person who will believe me.’

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C H A P T E R   1 1    -   S í o f r a    ( p t   3 )

She was waiting for him in the garden by the time his car pulled into her driveway. The sun was just beginning to set, colouring the entire landscape in warm oranges and reds. Somehow, despite the dropping temperature, it felt warmer than it had in weeks.

He cleared his throat as he approached the garden swing, making her look up with a small, tense smile. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’

‘What did you want to talk about?’

She motioned for him to join her and once he did, bit down on her lip, looking for a right way, any way to rely her insane theories. In the end she decided to go with the most believable fact. ‘Padrick came by today.’

‘He did?’ Brian sounded surprised. ‘What did he want?’

‘He… came to talk. About where he went when he… wasn’t here.’ She looked up at his quirked eyebrow and huffed in despair. Jesus. God help her. ‘He told me… stories. And I shouldn’t believe them, but I do.’

‘What kind of stories?’

‘Remember the night we found him by the cliffs?’ she asked, shivering in the warm breeze. ‘That scary fairy-tale I told you?’

‘Yes?’ he drawled carefully, eyes narrowing with understanding. ‘Órlaith…’

‘I know. It sounds… insane. But…’ She handed him the book she was holding, tapping a page with her index finger. ‘I saw some things that night too. We have to go back.’

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C H A P T E R   1 2   -   S c é a l   g r á    ( p t   1 )

They walked in silence, Órlaith so consumed by her thoughts she didn’t even notice Brian’s unease. He followed her determined footsteps toward the place where he found her cradle the lost boy a few days ago and watched her look around before continuing, searching for something which remained hidden to him.

What she was proposing was… It was not something he could in all honesty consider. Fairy tales and monsters, childrens’ stories in old, leathery books. He understood the boy was in shock and was now trying to make peace with whatever it was that happened to him, but the fact she supported his delusions... He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Couldn’t wrap his head around why he was still here, following her into darkness.

She stopped suddenly, making him stumble into her back. He steadied himself on her shoulders, blinking at whatever captured her gaze with tired eyes. ‘Cosáin sióga,’ she whispered, motioning with her chin.

A circle of mushrooms encircled the spot they stood on in a perfectly proportioned circle. Brian followed Órlaith’s movements, turning around to take in the full effect of their spotted red heads. He couldn’t keep himself from muttering, ‘Fairy rings.’

‘They mark the crossing of the ley lines.’

‘That’s just an old tale, Órlaith,’ he sighed. ‘It’s a rare mycelium pattern. The mushrooms grow around a withered piece of…’

‘I know the science behind it,’ she cut into his lecture, kneeling down in the middle and touching the ground with her fingertips. ‘But this is the place Padrick described. He wasn’t lying about this.’

‘That doesn’t exactly prove anything. He could’ve seen it and invented a story to…’

‘He didn’t,’ she retorted automatically, looking up at him. ‘I know how this sounds but… He didn’t lie to me.’

‘I’m not saying he did. But he was scared, Órlaith. Human mind, especially that of a child, can play tricks on us when it tries to make sense of something that is hard for us to accept.’

Órlaith bit her lip, caressing the grass on her fingertips. ‘Yeah. You finally see? I’m a murdering freak who believes in fairytales and monsters.’

‘I don’t think you are a murderer. But I think this… is taking things a little too far. We can’t invent new monsters just because we are scared to face those we left behind.’

‘We don’t have to invent them. They are already here.’

<  P r e v i o u s    ☾   N e x t   >

C H A P T E R   1 2   -   S c é a l   g r á    ( p t   2 )

Galway, 2010

 That feeling, the pure essence of freedom, it is incredible. It can’t be described, those first few steps you take away from home. It’s like finding a brand-new room in a house you have been living in your whole life, opening the door and plunging in, awestruck by a world so bright and new it makes your breath hitch.

They tell you you should feel homesick, lost in this strange city, but you don’t. You’re far too preoccupied feeling things you didn’t ever dare to feel before, or simply had no idea existed in the first place. Everything seems possible in those first few months after moving away from home.

Even falling in love.

Oh and it’s easy. So strangely easy to let go off all you knew before and let yourself be consumed. Fall back, relax, nobody can hurt you here because the world is bright and brave and the man you love has you by the hand, leading the way.

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C H A P T E R   1 2   -   S c é a l   g r á    ( p t   3 )

Galway, 2015

 Pain was a relative concept. After a while you just stopped feeling it. Or maybe, stopped caring about feeling it. It still burned under your skin, but somehow, with everything around you, it turned bland. An unseasoned soup of blood and peeling skin.

A kick landed in her side, throwing her back on the ground with a huff. Her chin hit the tiles seconds before she was lifted up by her hair, hissing through her teeth.

‘I told you to stop oogling him, didn’t I? Didn’t I fucking tell you to stop oogling him!’

She glanced up, all the hate and fear brewing in her eyes concentrated on his face. She fell bile rising up her throat at the sight of him. Bile and the desperate pounding of her heart in her ears.

‘Answer me!’

Biting down her tongue, her gaze strayed toward the open door. She could feel the presence there. She could feel it and she wanted, deep in the heart of her to appear strong for her. Teach her to stand up to bullies. To never, never let anyone beat you down like this. Not even your father, not even your bloody husband and his entire fucking army. But she couldn’t. Because if she did she would be the next. Órlaith would never let that happen. 

‘Fuck!’ she heard him hiss, but his voice was coming from far away. Everything around her, it seemed, suddenly looked remote. She felt her breath breeze his ankle as she fell. Saw him walk toward the door and open it. She could feel the muscles in her arm stretch, one by one to reach out.

The haunted gaze beyond the door pushed tears into her eyes. Tears she tried to hide as she watched, fingers lifting off the floor, only to fall, lifelessly back to re-join her broken body. It felt so wrong. To see it happen and not be able to… move.

The water splashed her face when she fell.

‘Fuck you and your fucking kid,’ hissed her love, spitting on the grass next to her and slowly walked away. His footsteps echoes in the darkness, drowning out her daughter’s dying screams.

When she woke up she had handcuffs on her wrists and the world seemed to be cold and distant once again.

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C H A P T E R   1 3   -   C h u a i g h   s é   i   n d e a r m a d   d e   r é i r   a   c h é i l e   ( p t   1 )

She glanced up at him when she was done talking, chin lifted defiantly. He had seen this look before. It was the same challenging face that met the mob on the cliffs after Padrick disappeared. It was the look of a woman beaten down and ready to be judged.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I can’t even imagine the pain you are in, red.’

She didn’t reply. She hung her head and sighed, ‘I’m scared.’

‘I’m here.’

‘I’m scared because you are here.’ She looked up then, blue eyes haunted. ‘Because of me not being strong enough… I killed my daughter. I couldn’t stand up to him and because of that she…’ A whimper cut her off and despite knowing better, despite understanding all the little signs he had before disregarded, he touched her arm gently, whispering, ‘This is not your fault. Órlaith, this has never been your fault.’

‘It is. He is still out there because I was too scared to say anything. I was too scared to talk before she got hurt, and after. I may not be the person who drowned her, but I’m the one that let her drown. She deserved better.’ Before he could say anything she shook her head and with those big blue eyes looked up. ‘I’m still not strong enough, Brian. I’m not strong enough to fight you.’

It broke his heart to see her like this. He could feel the anger burning just under the surface, desperate to get out. Since day one he wanted to know the reason behind her pain and now he did. Everything in him yelled at him to go and avenge her. Find the one who wronged her and erase him from the face of this earth because while she was standing here, he had no right to occupy the same planet. But all he did was lean into her and with as much conviction as he could muster, muttered, ‘You will never have to fight me, Órlaith.’

She closed her eyes, smiling a sad, broken smile. ‘I wish.’

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C H A P T E R   1 3   -   C h u a i g h   s é   i   n d e a r m a d   d e   r é i r   a   c h é i l e   ( p t   2 )

Órlaith stared at the box, mind racing. She was looking, rather desperately, for an escape. She knew that once she opened that box the story started moving again. This box, it was the last sentence of a closing chapter. A chapter that, if she ever wanted to see Brian again, had to end now, with this old dusty box, inside this old dusty library.

Now all she had to do was stop looking for excuses and lift the lid.

But she didn’t. Instead she walked away. Busied herself in the kitchen, cleaned the house, ordered more groceries. She kept returning to the box, checking in on it from time to time to see whether it moved. It never did.

It was well past midnight when she finally closed the door to the library and faced the box one last time. She was still not brave. She was a coward and like a coward she knew this thing has to be handled like a band-aid – yank it off quickly, not giving yourself a chance to run.

She lifted the lid releasing a puff of dust that made her cough. She threw it aside and looked in, expecting all kinds of monsters to attack her. But all the monsters were dead, died a long time ago leaving behind old, dingy relics. She pulled them out, one by one.

Photos stared at her, resting in a pile that never got sorted into a photo album. Staring at the mess she decided to start there. She pulled out what she supposed was her family photo-album and got to work, adding photos to chalky pages. There were no photos of him. She only took photos of Maya.

When she was finished she lifted Mr Jungle, Maya’s favourite panda bear and put her arms around it, leaning back in her armchair. She felt tears biting in her eyes and for once, let them flow as she held on, pushing her fingers into the dusty plush toy.

She woke up hours later, face resting on Mr Jungle. The sun was desperately trying to part the thick clouds outside to announce it’s ascend, falling short. It was going to be a stormy day. With that notion Órlaith stood up, packed up the scattered items, labelled the box Maya and put it back on its shelf.

Mr Jungle stayed with her as she climbed up the stairs and went to sleep in her bed.  

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C H A P T E R   1 4   -   I   d ‘ a o n a r   ( p t   1 )

Earlier that day, Fanore

She listened to his story in silence, blue eyes intent on his face. He was not sure whether she was looking for a slip, a little snap in his speech that would betray a lie, or whether this was how she usually regarded people. When he was done talking she nodded, not saying a thing.

‘So… you don’t believe me,’ he mumbled, a little hurt creeping into his voice.

‘You’re telling me stories, Padrick,’ she reasoned, ‘faeries and monsters and singing demons. These are just things our mind invents to make sense of event that scare us.’

‘I didn’t invent it!’

She sighed, leaning down to rest her chin on her knees. ‘For the longest time I kept painting this image of a monster over the face of someone who hurt me. I kept giving him superpowers and evil red eyes, so one day, if I ever meet someone like him again, I would know. I would see the signs of a monster. But it doesn’t work like that. There are no monsters, Padrick. There are just bad people and they look like anyone else. Is that who took you? An evil person?’

Desperation gripped at his heart. She didn’t believe him. Nobody believed him and nobody ever will. If he told his parents they would get him a psychiatrist and then the kids in school would know and then…

Would it even matter? He wondered. Who were the kids at his school? Who were his parents? As a matter of fact… who was he? Shaking his head he looked up from his palms, meeting her curious gaze with his. ‘No one cares, do they. I’m here. There is a check on a board next to my name. Nobody cares who came back as long as somebody did.’

Her gaze strayed toward a book then. An old, Irish book of fairy tales with ornamental golden ribbon laying across the page. Padrick spoke very little Irish, less than the school required, but he did catch the gist of the illustration under a paragraph. A fairy princess putting a little fairy child into a human cradle while the parents slept.

Órlaith looked away quickly, closing the book with a snap. ‘What are you saying, Padrick?’

‘I’m saying I’m no longer me. I don’t know what I am. And the boy you were looking for that night on the cliffs?’ He waited for her to nod and once she did mumbled, ‘You never found him, Órlaith.’

The voices in his head laughed.

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C H A P T E R   1 4   -   I   d ‘ a o n a r   ( p t   2 )

He woke with a start. His head was swimming with voices. Voices of Padrick’s memories, voices of his monsters, voices of Órlaith telling him he was insane. He scrambled out of the bed that was his and wasn’t, stopping in the middle of the room to look at his hands.

They were hands. He still didn’t grow claws. Yet.

Shivering he walked toward the window, looking down into the dark street. It was just before midnight and the moon was shining bright and full in the skies of darkest indigo. Watching the night he couldn’t shake the feeling of something having changed in Fanore. Something, just under the surface, barely visible to human eye, was creeping by. He wondered whether anyone else noticed. Whether anyone else cared.

Órlaith didn’t. He hoped she would but he could see the doubt shine in her eyes. Despite all her books and faery stories she couldn’t believe him. He was all alone in the world and he had no idea what to do about it.

Going to sleep seemed like an option. Assimilate. Become one of them. Believe in the lie. He was about to. He ever started turning away from the window…

But then he saw her. A girl, little and afraid, not much older than him, walking down the dark road toward the beach. Nobody followed her, nobody stopped her. Nobody even knew she was gone. She was following the music, unable to stop her legs from moving, so very scared of her destination.

He only hesitated for a moment. Something inside, something very wrong and wicked told him to let her go, to go back to sleep and ask ‘mom’ to get him a new game at the shop tomorrow. He pushed it away, hurrying toward his dresser. He pulled out the first hoodie he could find and ran out of the house, chasing the little girl about to lose her soul. He had no idea what he would do once he caught up to her.

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C H A P T E R   1 4   -   I   d ‘ a o n a r   ( p t   3 )

‘Wait! Please, stop!’ he cried, running after the girl. She seemed to be walking so slowly, almost floating over the ground, yet even running full speed he had trouble catching up. Her hair was floating behind her, a curtain of luxurious gold that would one day turn brown. That is if he somehow managed to stop her from moving toward the water. ‘Please! You can’t go there!’

‘I can’t stop,’ she whispered. It was eerie. How her voice sounded so calm and relaxed, but her eyes, when she looked at him, were big and filled with terror. They looked like eyes of someone facing a gun.

‘Give me your hand,’ he beseeched, reaching for her.

‘I can’t!’ she repeated. This time a hint of that terror stole into her tone. He was glad. It meant that maybe, just maybe the hold on her was breaking.

He threw himself at her, holding onto her waist tightly. They were already at the beach and his feet were sinking in the sand, leaving a rigged line behind them. As much as he tried to steady them, the pull was too powerful. There was no stopping it. At least not for a little boy.

‘Help!’ he cried, holding on for dear live. ‘Someone, please!’

The water was getting closer. It seemed to be reaching for them, turning dark and murky on the surface, a tentacled monster about to strike. His throat was getting sore from the yelling and his sweaty hands kept slipping on the girl’s skin. He couldn’t keep doing this much longer. Especially with the voices cackling in his head.

He was beginning to loose hope when the girl’s sneaker got lost in the fog. Let go, the voices in his head said, she is ours now. And he wanted to. Something abominable inside of him wanted to let go…

But then another voice screamed, ‘Hey! What are you two doing down there!’

Padrick’s head snapped back to call out, one last time, right at the moment the connection severed. He and the girl were thrown back, tumbling into the sand. The fall tore his breath out of his lungs and for a second he was gone, grasping at the dark mist of unconsciousness, only to wake up cradling the girl a second later.

When the man finally reached them the girl was crying, soft, broken sobs rocking her frail frame. Padrick looked up at him, eyes wide and scared. He couldn’t believe they was still alive and obviously, the man has some trouble believing it either.

He kept staring at the water, jaw dropped in amazement. That’s when Padrick recognised his face. He was the one who helped Órlaith find him. Brian, she kept calling him.

‘You know Órlaith,’ muttered the boy finally, pulling the man’s gaze back to him.

‘As do you. It’s Padrick, right? Are you okay?’

He nodded, feeling some of the horror seep out of his bones. He felt light, too light, like a balloon about to float away into the clouds.

‘Alright, Padrick,’ grunted the man, turning to indicate the water with his finger, ‘Now what the fuck was that?’

<  P r e v i o u s   ☾   N e x t   >

C H A P T E R   1 5   -   I t   a n   t - e o l a s   s i n   a r   f a d   ( p t   1 )

Órlaith opened the door with a wide, wonderful smile that turned to a frown far too quickly. She took a moment to take in the unlikely pair on her doorstep and blinked in confusion.

Brian shocked her even more by pushing the boy inside before she could react. He closed the door behind them, kissing her cheek quickly and walking toward the kitchen, explaining, ‘About those evil monsters lurking in the dark, kidnapping children and whatnot… I’m rather inclined to believe it now.’

‘What?’ she huffed, hurrying after him. ‘What happened? And Padrick? It’s the middle of the night! Do your parents know you’re here?’

The kid sank into a chair with a huff. His skin was pallid, big blue eyes sunken under a veil of exhaustion. ‘They almost took someone else tonight. Brian stopped it.’

‘What?’ 

Her hand pulled Brian’s cheek toward her, but his eyes never fixed on her as he growled, ‘I did not. Padrick did most of the work. But Jesus, Órlaith, this is real. The water was… reaching out. It got the girl by the ankles and was pulling them both down…’ He shook his head, burying his fingers in his hair. ‘Bloody faeries are real.’

‘Which means,’ whispered Órlaith, turning her gaze back to the pale kid sitting in her kitchen. ‘You’re one of them.’

Padrick blinked at her, slow and challenging. The accusation hurt him more than she could ever know, but he didn’t let it show as he shrugged. ‘I suppose.’

‘But you helped the girl,’ reasoned Brian. ‘Why?’

Honestly Padrick couldn’t tell. ‘I think I didn’t come out right.’

‘I don’t’ understand.’

‘When I ran,’ he explained. ‘They were doing something to me. Me and… the boy who is me. I think they never got to finish whatever it was they were doing. Or maybe I’m just a mishap. There is more of him left in me than it should be.’

Órlaith watched him with that unnerving gaze of her again for what seemed like hours. She didn’t say anything when she was done, just walked over to the fridge and started pulling things out. ‘We need a plan. We can’t let them continue doing this.’

‘Hold your horses, admiral!’ snickered Brian, shaking his head. ‘We have no idea what they are or how to stop them. As a matter of fact, we don’t even know why they’re doing this. Why now? There have been no disappearances in this area for what? Hundreds of years? So why now?’

‘Maybe they were awakened,’ muttered the boy.

‘By whom?’

‘Something’s changing. Something dark.’

Brian stared at him, uncomprehending. ‘In bloody Fanore?’

‘No. In the world. I can feel it now. There is a darkness out there,’ he looked out of the window, fingers scratching at his arm. ‘It has been growing lately, seeping into the earth. Something is about to go down soon. Something I don’t think any of us will be able to stop.’

‘Okay,’ sighed Brian, shaking his head, ‘Somehow we got from faeries to cryptic apocalyptic prophecies and personally, I’m not okay with that.’

The kid snorted a laugh, regarding him with an amused expression that was far too wise to belong to such a young face. ‘Honestly, Sasanach, I don’t think any of us will be given a vote.’

Brian grumbled something, letting himself be seated down by Órlaith. He stared at the sandwich she put before him with an expression of dumb defeat. ‘So…what now?’

Órlaith sighed, pushing a pile of books to the side adamantly. ‘Well, we have books.’

‘We have a bunch of children’s tales!’ complained Brian.

She couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking her red head as both, the boy and the man glared. ‘I think that by now we have sufficiently covered the fact that there is some truth to every story.’

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C H A P T E R   1 5   -   I t   a n   t - e o l a s   s i n   a r   f a d   ( p t   2 )

Padrick fell asleep with his nose buried in a volume of old Irish folk tales.

‘I should take the kid home,’ muttered Brian, leaning down to kiss her forehead. ‘I will stop by tomorrow…’

She stopped him, reaching for his hand. ‘Come back after you drop him off. Please. I… I found something in one of the books. I didn’t want to talk in front of him.’ She whispered, nodding toward the sleeping boy.

‘Sure. Go take a nap in the meantime. I will wake you up when I’m back.’

She nodded, handing him the keys and watched him shake the boy awake gently. His big, tired, blue eyes stared at them in defiance when they offered him a ride home, but in the end the exhaustion won and he nodded, taking his jacket and following Brian to his car with slow, stumbling steps.

Órlaith watched them go faking a smile.

The monsters watching her from the shadows snickered.  

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C H A P T E R   1 5   -   I t   a n   t - e o l a s   s i n   a r   f a d   ( p t   3 )

The dream started out slow, slow and vaguely familiar. The scent of sizzling bacon and pancakes. Sweetness of maple syrup on her lips.

She stood in the kitchen of their flat, turning over a pancake. She was humming a melody. Something sweet and innocent. It played a perfect harmony to the giggles behind her.

‘Maya, I will say this one last time, sit down and eat your breakfast!’ Her lips moved, voice box trembled as she formed the words, so strange in her mouth after years of silence.

‘I’m not hungry!’ complained her daughter, sitting back down.

‘Are you not hungry enough for pancakes?’ She put a steaming plate in front of her, joining Maya at the table as little grubby hands reached for the sweet goodness, pulling it into the dark hole that was her daughter’s belly. She never could resist anything sweet.

Watching Maya eat something started to awaken in her, spreading across her consciousness and infecting the candid tranquillity of the dream. She almost had it, almost grasped the thought screaming in her head, but then Maya looked up, blue eyes filled with joy.

‘Mommy?’

‘Yes, sweetie?’

‘I think you’re very smart.’

She huffed a laugh, leaning her chin on her hand. ‘Is that so.’

‘Yes,’ nodded her daughter adamantly. ‘I think you can be waaaaay more happy and not so sad. I think if we are together again you can be as happy as me!’

‘Sweetie, we are together.’

Her daughter considered it for a moment and that voice, that thing that kept yanking at her unconsciousness spoke again. Something was wrong with this. The look in her daughter’s eyes… Something was so wrong with this. ‘I don’t like that man. Or that boy.’

Uneasiness creeped down Órlaith’s spine as she spoke. Still, not quite able to let the dream go she mumbled, ‘Why? They are really nice, you know.’

‘No, they are not! I think we should be alone from now on. Just you and me. Like always, mommy.’

‘But Brian…’ and with that name the thing that was wrong broke out. It shattered that beautiful dream, contorted the sweet music and pushed her out of her chair, stumbling back against the kitchen counters.

The apparition watched her curiously. ‘They are bad for us, mommy. Bad, bad, bad! They keep the good aunties away?’

‘The… good aunties,’ she repeated. She was talking again. On her own. Trapped in a nightmare beyond compare.

‘Yes,’ nodded the ghost. ‘The good aunties are protecting me and all the children! They give us candy and sweet cherries and all the toys you could ever wish for! But the boy didn’t want candy,’ her face sunk, empty eyes seemingly sad. ‘He hurt the good aunty! He scratched her hand and tore her dress and spit at her with spite! Bad, bad, boy! Aunties are here to help the children! Aunties give children toys!’

‘Who are the aunties, Maya?’ she asked.

The ghost girl smiled, pearly white teeth sharp in her pale mouth. ‘Faeries, silly! And they want me to bring you down to them. To help bring joy to all the children, in all the world, in all the universe! And all you have to do is get rid of that boy and come live with me!’

‘Live with you. Live with you, where, Maya?’

‘In the sea, silly!’ The ghost was moving now, coming toward her with careful, predatory steps. She wanted to run, watching it happen, as step by step the ghost approached, reaching it’s slimy, crooked hand for her and all the while, cackling, until the voices distorted together in one monstrous screech, ‘Come home, mommy, come home mommy comehomemommy comehomemommycomehomemommy…’

She woke on a scream, back-paddling on the bed until her back hit the backboard with a sharp bang. For hours to come she couldn’t stop shaking.

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C H A P T E R   1 6   -   T u b a i s t e   ( p t   1 )

‘I might be able to get inside through the window.’

As far as famous last words went, Brian lived to hear better ones. But really, the kid’s heart was in a good place. If only his fitness abilities were as strong as his determination.

He hit the porch with a loud bang, making Brian wince. Half-faerie or not, that shit had to hurt. Brian rushed to him, leaning down over his pained expression. ‘Kid, are you okay?’

‘I’m not able,’ mumbled the kid.

‘No shit.’

Padrick’s parents choose that moment to barrel out, brandishing various household items as weapons. They pointed them all at Brian threateningly, barking out police numbers and for some reason, pleas. Brian stepped back from them, deciding this was not the day to die by the hand of an Irish village idiot. May the Englishman in him rest in peace.

‘Mom, dad!’ cried the kid, bringing order to chaos. ‘It’s me! It’s me! Stop it!’

The dad, freezing mid-swing, fixed a confused expression on his son. ‘Padrick?! What are you doing outside!’

‘And who are you?!’ screeched mom, pointing at Brian.

‘He is… a friend!’ cried the kid, making all the adults look at him in doubt. Sure, the pause, decided Brian, didn’t help much. But then, he was helping a faery to break into a house of it’s not quite parents. Somehow a fight with said parents ranked very low on his strange meter tonight.

‘I’m a teacher,’ he said, lifting his hands to communicate peace.

‘Yes!’ nodded the boy adamantly. ‘He teaches… maths.’

Brian winced. Of course. Of all the subjects in all the world the kid had to choose the one which made him want to take an iron pipe to his brain. But sure. Why not. Maths. Derivations. ‘I found him walking down the street a few block away,’ he lied, making Padrick glare. ‘I didn’t think it safe for him to wander around so I took him home.’

Sometimes it sucked to be adult. It sure as hell sucked to be a kid right now. But then, Brian decided it sucked far more to spend his night in jail being questioned as a suspect of a paedophilia case. Sometimes adults called the shots and the kids just had to sit down and bloody listen.

‘You!’ cried the adult, pointing at both, the kid and Brian in turn, ‘inside now. You two better explain yourselves right now.’

They followed, mindless of the darkness pushing them forth. All the while the phone in Brian’s pocket kept ringing.

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C H A P T E R   1 6   -   T u b a i s t e   ( p t   2 )

Adults pretended to be rational, but the simple truth was, they rarely were. Unlike children, adults just had too much shit to care about. That happens. Shits somehow multiplies over the years. You move into an empty place, wait four years and by the time you’re moving out there is a shitload of crap you have to pack, label and transport to your next location.

Adults cared about a damned amount of things, most of all their offspring. Once you touched that, all hell be damned, adults were brandishing their weapons, mindless of the odds. Órlaith never claimed to be a rational person. She tended to overreact to the simplest things. Although, she had to admit as she ran through the rain, slipping on wet stone, as far as stupid decisions went, this one was probably her crown jewel.

The lighthouse shone in the darkness. It looked blurred in the harsh rain, an idol of another world reaching over into theirs. It was, for the first time she realised, something wicked. Not a caring good uncle watching over them, but a stalker. An insidious monster sharpening its claws, waiting for the lights in the village to go out.

‘Auntie is mad at you.’

The voice made her cry out. She stumbled away from the shadow solidifying on her right, only stopping for a second before she pushed on, muscles screaming with extortion. ‘Yeah, well,’ she snarled at the shadow, ‘auntie can go fuck herself. And you, you can drop the charade. I’m not falling for your games.’

The fae grinned, features softly melting into a young woman with bright, flashing eyes. She joined Órlaith’s steps as she spoke, so quietly you could barely make out her voice in the rain. ‘You won’t win this round, human. We have been here for centuries. And we will still be here when you’re lying buried. It’s the way of the fae.’

‘You have not been here for the last hundred years,’ she snickered, ‘and I know why.’

The pretty face screeched, revealing fangs of whitest pearl. It was like popping a balloon. One moment she was standing there, intimidating and dark, the next she was gone, replaced by soft, silvery powder. Before the last of it hit the ground Órlaith was already walking away.

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C H A P T E R   1 6   -   T u b a i s t e   ( p t   3 )

Brian walked out of the O’Leary house after what seemed like hours, unable to chase the lies he had told out of his mind. So much for staying true, so much for changing. He looked back up at the house, catching the boy’s glance in the second storey window. The first light of the morning reflected off his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ he mouthed.

Brian smiled, lifting a shoulder. That right there was a good… half kid, half whatever the fuck it was. He wondered what would happen to him once the faeries were gone. If he were correct the real Padrick should return. Where then does that leave this Padrick? Will he disappear with the rest of them? Will he stay, unable to ever return home? He pushed the thoughts out of his mind, frowning. Questions like this were best pondered after the fight was over.

Walking down the street toward his car he reached into his pocket for his phone. He found three missed calls from Órlaith, but what alarmed him even more was the blinking voice mail icon. His frown deepened as he clicked it and listened to the message.

‘Brian,’ his name came out on a rushed breath. ‘Please, don’t be mad. I wanted to tell you, but I don’t think there is more time. The fae will be gone when you wake up. I don’t know what happens with the children and I don’t know what happens to Padrick. If he stays you need to get him out of here before they find his... other half. Nobody can now, Brian. Padrick is right. This goes deeper than we know and it needs to stop now...’

He was moving. He didn’t even realise it until his car swerved off the road and almost hit a stone wall on his left. Phone held up between his ear and shoulder he tried to steady it, cursing under his breath. All the while her voice kept talking, each word burrowing in his heart like a blade.

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