Where was he? Scanning the street, I reached into my pocket, lightly running my fingers across the items nestled inside, trying to draw some comfort from the hum of energy radiating from them. It was a small gesture, one I had done probably a dozen times since arriving, and one that had become less and less effective with each passing moment. My contact was nearly twenty minutes late, and as the minute ticked by, the fears I usually kept buried in the back of my mind crept closer to the surface. Had he been caught? Was I sitting in a trap?
Reluctantly I removed my hand from my pocket and tried to push the invading thoughts back where they belonged. I pulled the hood of my dark green coat closer around my face, more to shadow my features than to ward off the bitter cold. It was a habit bred more from paranoia than necessity.
The fact that I blended in so well was the main, if not only, reason Jason used me whenever contact had to be made in a populated area. At five foot seven I was a touch on the short side for a Faye but not enough to draw attention or comment, and my brown hair and green eyes wouldn't stand out in any crowd. Even under mild scrutiny, I would pass for a Faye, but I always worried that someone would look a little too closely and see me for the intruder that I was.
Five more minutes that's all I could give him, I told myself firmly. I'd made the same declaration five minutes ago, and five minutes before that, but this time I had to stick to it. Galicia sat on the outskirts of the Summer Court, which was the only reason I'd risked staying this long, but my crossing wouldn't have gone unnoticed, even out here. It would take time for a search party to respond this far out, but they would respond. I had never left a job unfinished before and wasn't looking forward to dealing with Jason if I failed, but his anger was far more preferable to the jail cell that awaited me if I got caught.
It wasn't just the fear of being caught that had my nerves so on edge. It was everything about Otherworld. From its empty violet sky that bathed the world in a perpetual twilight to the energy saturated air that always made me feel like I was sitting in the middle of an electrical storm; I hated coming here. If I had any other reliable way to make a living, I'd be doing it. But as a sixteen-year-old runaway, my options were limited.
I was trying to decide whether to risk staying longer or abandon the job and take my chances with Jason, when my attention was drawn to an elderly man in a gray suit and tan trench coat. Leaning heavily on a wooden cane, he shuffled his way to the jewelry stand. His stoop made it hard to judge his height, but with short white hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a thin almost frail frame, he matched the vague description I'd been given well enough. Unfortunately, so had half a dozen other men I'd seen walking around.
He stood there for a minute, talking with the shopkeeper as she tried to interest him in a particularly nice looking gold pocket watch. I was starting to think it was just a coincidence, that he wasn’t who I was waiting for when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a red handkerchief. The breath, I hadn't even realized I'd been holding, came out in a rush when he took off his glasses and began wiping the lenses.
Having finally received the signal, I was impatient to get this over with, but I forced myself to remain seated. Up to this point, I was just trespassing, a serious enough offense, but contact was where the real danger was. I didn't know why this man wanted to cross the veil to Earth, and ultimately I didn't care. Someone had paid Jason for his passage, and it was my job to make it happen, but being caught with the wrong person on the wrong side of the veil could land me forgotten in a cold cell for the rest of what would be an undoubtedly short life.
Taking a moment, I carefully studied the crowd, searching for anyone who was paying too much attention to my mark or who seemed to be actively avoiding looking his way. People packed the cobbled street but other than the storekeeper, no one gave him more than a passing glance. My nerves were already stretched thin, and I hesitated. I sat there, frozen with indecision, watching as the man returned the cloth to his pocket and began glancing around, his eyes scanning the crowd as I’d just done. It was now or never; sighing I got up. Threading my way through the throngs of shoppers, I was careful to keep my hood up, and my head down. If things went bad, I didn't want anyone able to give a good description to the authorities.
"Grandfather, are you ready to go home?" I asked, coming up behind him and gently placing my hand on his arm.
He gave a small start but recovered quickly. "Whenever you are, my dear," he said, reaching up to pat my hand affectionately as if I really was his granddaughter. He flashed the shopkeeper an apologetic smile before turning to follow me.
Keeping a hand on his elbow, I steered him away. "I thought I might have missed you," he said, once we were immersed in the crowd.
"You almost did." The words came out a little harsher than I intended and I immediately regretted it.
Now that I was close, I could see that he was even older than I'd initially thought. His voice had a rasping hitch to it, and his skin was so thin that a network of blue veins was clearly visible beneath the nearly transparent flesh. It was hard to determine a Faye’s age, but he had to be approaching a millennium.
I'd known he would be old, but I had never envisioned the stooped, frail figure hobbling beside me. People politely made room for us, clearing a path, but our progress was still painfully slow. Keeping a firm grip on his arm, I tried not to let my frustration show, as I guided us through the crowd, one halting step at a time. We just needed to make it out of the market square, and everything would be fine.
We were a little over halfway to safety when I felt it; the cold tingling sensation of a reading brushed across my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. It only lasted a split second, but it was enough to stop me in my tracks and send my heart plummeting to my stomach. I pulled the old man to a lurching stop beside me. We were so close, why couldn't they have been just a few minutes later?
All around us people came to a standstill, heads pivoting back and forth as their eyes sought out the source of the intrusion. Almost as one, the angry mutters shifted to anxious whispers as all eyes focused on the group pushing their way into the crowd. My chest tightened as the five, red liveried guards headed our way. A reading large enough to cover the entire crowd would have been only the most basic. Enough to confirm my presence and little more, but it wouldn't take long for them to narrow it down.
They were moving quickly, surrounded by a haze of energy. I couldn't tell which one was performing the readings, but their bloodhound was closing in fast. Even if I hadn't been able to see the guards, I could have tracked their movements by the crowd's reaction. Groups of shoppers visibly stiffened as they were subjected to a more focused reading and then relaxed as the guards disregarded them and moved on.
Taking deep breaths, I tried to stay calm and think. This was bad, but it was no time to panic, not yet. Beside me, my companion had gone rigid. His bony fingers clinched his cane as if he had every intention of beating the guards with it if he had to. I had no idea why he was trying to escape Otherworld, but he clearly feared being caught as much as I did.
He tried to move away, but my hand was still on his arm. I pulled back, shaking my head slightly. Glaring at me, he tried to shake my hand off, but I held tight. So far no one had focused on us, but that would change the moment we tried to move. With the rest of the crowd standing perfectly still, waiting patiently for the guards to clear them, trying to flee now would just bring the guards down on us sooner. I didn't know what his abilities were, maybe he could take on the guards, any fay's magic would be stronger than my own, but I wasn't willing to risk it, not when there were still other options. The guards were only twenty feet away, and still heading straight for us.
Catching his eye, I tried to convey a confidence I didn't feel. "I got this," I whispered. "Just don’t move." He frowned down at me for a moment before giving a quick nod.
I risked letting go of his arm, to reach into the pocket of my coat. Thankfully, he didn't take the opportunity to run, but I could tell that he wouldn't be willing to wait long. My fingers were stiff from the cold, and I fumbled around a bit before finding the smooth, round surfaces I was searching for. My backup plan, a safety net that I always carried, but had never used.
Pulling out two marbles, I cupped one in my palm while gently rolling the other back and forth between my fingers. Dropping my hand to my side, I flicked my wrist, tossing one in the direction of the guards. I watched as the red orb hit the ground, bounced a couple of times, and spun out of sight, quickly lost among the shuffling feet.
Taking a deep breath, I made myself count to five before releasing a small flow of energy in the direction the marble had rolled. Beside me, a young woman gasped as she felt my awen flow past her. Large blue eyes turned to stare at me in horror while her mouth opened to shout a warning that never made it past her lips.
My awen made contact with the marble, completing the weave I’d bound to it earlier in the week. The soft currents of air that had been flowing through the market suddenly erupted into an icy gale storm. Winds radiated out from the marble with such force that they threw everyone in the vicinity, including the closest guards, to the ground. The rest of the crowd scattered, their terrified screams shattering the silence that had pervaded the square since the guard's arrival.
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With our movements masked by the panic of the crowd, I grabbed my charge and propelled him forward. Make it out of the market; that's all we needed to do to get out of this, I kept repeating to myself as I maneuvered us through the stampeding masses. More than once we almost lost our footing as the crowd surged against us jostling us from side to side as we fled. Luckily, we both managed to keep on our feet; I don’t know that either of us would have stopped for other if we’d fallen behind.
I was so focused on our escape and keeping both of us from falling that I didn't see the red uniform until a strong hand seized my arm, jerking me to a stop. Long fingers dug into soft flesh as he spun me around to face him. I barely had time to process what was happening before my captor released a surge of energy from his fingertips, sending a jolt of pain radiating through my body. The agony drove all other thoughts from my mind. Crying out, I dropped the other marble as the muscles of my arm jerked uncontrollably before going lifeless.
I hung limply in his grasp, my muscles shocked into uselessness. Fear twisted a knot in my stomach as I watched him begin to knit together a shield. If he managed to get it in place, it would cut me off from my awen, ending any chance I had of escape. Unable to move my head, I couldn't see where the marble had fallen, and panic began to tighten my chest. Desperately I flung out waves of energy in every direction, hoping the marble was still close enough to do me some good. It was closer than I anticipated.
Pain and darkness washed over me. I had to force down the urge to vomit as I fought for consciousness. My mind swam with confusion as I tried to make sense of what had happened. I thought I heard words drifting through the darkness, but they seemed muted and far away.
"You need to get up." The words finally came to me along with the realization that someone was shaking my shoulders.
It was an effort, but I managed to open my eyes. Silver specks floated across my vision, and a fresh wave of nausea immediately sought to overwhelm me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I took several deep breaths, trying to ride out the dizzy spell.
"You need to get up," he repeated. He was kneeling over me, his wrinkled face coming slowly into focus as I opened my eyes again.
It wasn't until he grabbed my shoulders and started pulling me up that I even realized I was laying on the ground. It was a struggle, but he managed to get me into a sitting position. Looking around, I immediately wished he had left me where I was.
In my panic I'd used too much of my awen, triggering a spell that was far stronger than I'd intended. All around me bodies laid sprawled on the ground. Some moved slightly or let out weak, pitiful moans, but far too many were silent and still, including the guard who was face down next to me, a shallow pool of blood gathering beneath his head. Reaching over, I placed the back of my hand in front of his mouth. A soft sob of relief bubbled forth when I felt the warmth of his breath against my skin.
"I didn't mean to." I heard myself muttering over and over again; tears clouding my vision as I took in the devastation I'd caused.
What had I done? The air weaves weren't supposed to hurt anyone. They were meant to be distractions not weapons, causing a few scrapes and bruises, nothing more.
"Get ahold of yourself, girl," he said, shaking me. "We need to get out of here. Can you move?"
I still felt nauseous and disorientated, and there was a throbbing ache radiating from the back of my head. Tentatively I reached inside the hood of my coat, and under the hooded sweatshirt, I wore beneath. I wasn't surprised when my fingers came back wet and sticky with blood.
"We need to move, now!" he said, his voice taken on a frantic edge as his eyes darted back and forth, skimming the crowd.
I felt battered and defeated. Like I'd just gone twelve rounds only to get knocked out at the final bell, but he was right, we needed to get moving. "Help me up," I said, reaching out for his hand.
Climbing to my feet, I tried to block out the cries of fear and pain that surrounded us. Even if anyone would let me try to help them, there was nothing I could do. My meager healing skills were pathetically inadequate for this situation.
I tried not to lean too heavily on my companion as he led us away, but vertigo caused my steps to falter. I tripped once or twice, but somehow he managed to keep us both upright and moving. Even with my added weight, he was remarkably steady, guiding us through what was left of the crowd. It didn't matter where we went, as long as it was isolated.
Letting him choose our path, I focused on keeping my feet beneath me. No one tried to stop us. Anyone who’d been close enough to realize we weren't' merely victims trying to escape the carnage was in no condition to impart that knowledge.
Silently he led us out of the market and along a side street before steering us into a dark, dead-end alley. Letting go of him, I staggered over to one of the walls. Leaning against it, I bent over, resting my hands on my knees. I took several deep breaths, willing my mind to clear and my body to stop shaking. He stood there silently watching.
"Are you okay?" he asked when I finally stood up and stepped away from the wall. I imagined I looked like hell and concern was evident in his eyes. From the way he kept glancing back over his shoulder, I could tell he was considering cutting his losses and taking off. I was surprised he hadn't already. He could have melted into the crowd at any time, leaving me to face the consequences of being caught alone. "Can you go on?"
It wasn't a matter of whether or not I could go on. I could always go on. It was whether or not I could safely bring him with me. That was the question. He was the one the veil guarded against. The one it was meant to keep imprisoned here, not me.
Ages ago we were one race; the Tuatha De Danann. A magical, nearly immortal people, who ruled what is now Ireland. Unlike humans, we can harness and control our awen, an energy that exists in all matter, using it to manipulate ourselves and the world around us.
Unfortunately, power and long life came with the drawback of low fertility. Barring accidents our ancestors could live for centuries but a woman would be lucky to bear more than a couple of children in her lifetime. When the Milesians invaded, we learned the hard lesson that numbers trumped power. A lesson that our Earth-bound elders still used to stress why we needed to continue to keep our existence a secret.
When the Milesian fleet landed on our shores, we were overrun and overwhelmed. After the deaths of all three of our kings, we had no choice but to concede defeat. With the loss of our kings, their queens, three sisters, collectively known as the Morrigan, took over leadership. They convinced the Milesians to agree to a three-day truce and return to their ships so that they could prepare their people for surrender.
In a last-ditch effort to drive the invaders from their homeland, the eldest, Badb, convinced her sisters to betray the truce. Two of the three tribes chose to follow the Morrigan. Raising an immense storm, they attempted to sink the invading fleet by breaking their ships against the rocky shores where they were moored.
They held the storm for days, pounding relentlessly at the invaders. But our awen is not limitless, and their strength eventually faded. When the storm died out, they were devastated to discover that more than half the fleet had managed to retreat to deeper waters and ride out the storm. Having exhausted all their magic, the Tuatha were defenseless when the Milesians returned and defeated them once more.
For their treachery, those that survived were forced into exile and imprisoned in Otherworld. They were marched in through the Sidhe mounds, and the gates were locked tight behind them. The veil was constructed between the two worlds to serve as a barrier and ensure that they would never again return to Earth.
The third tribe, rather than break their word, fled across the channel into what would later become England and eventually into Europe. Though we still called ourselves Tuatha, we became a migrant tribe, living among the humans intermingling with them over the centuries. Eventually, we changed enough that the veil no longer saw some of us as the same race it was meant to guard against.
Though not a common trait, a few of us have an awen signature so different from that of our ancestors that the veil allows us to cross back and forth without hindrance, and those of us with enough power and the right training can bring someone else through with us by masking their awen with our own.
"I can do it," I said, trying to sound as confident as I felt.
I was tired, exhausted really, and I had a headache that felt like an avalanche of rocks had come crashing down on my skull, but my awen was nearly at full strength. If I had made those air weaves on the spot, my awen would have been depleted, requiring a day or two to recover, but I had bonded those weaves to the marbles days ago. Regardless of how the rest of my body felt, my awen was practically untouched, and that was what mattered.
"I can do it," I said again when he looked less than convinced.
Without waiting for a response, I sent out a thin flow of energy. The silvery thread floated through the air, extending towards him. Most people couldn't see someone else's awen, but he felt it when I made contact. His back stiffening as my awen brushed against his skin. Tentatively, I pushed my awen into his chest, searching for the dense ball of energy that was his own awen. Once I found it, I channeled more flows, slowly wrapping his awen in a cocoon of my own. As eager as I was to get the hell out of Otherworld, I took my time, making sure each strand was firmly in place. Even the smallest hole would mean near instant death for him and most likely myself once we crossed over.
Everyone's awen felt different. The Faye's always felt foreign and wild to me, but his was the worst I'd ever encountered. Cold and savage, it fought against me, stabbing at my flows as I tried to wrap them around it. I wrestled against it, forcing the shield around it one strand at a time. As the last strand fell into place, I let go of my awen, perspiration dampening my forehead.
A flash of shock crossed the old man's face. I stepped back as his body began to jerk and convulse. The surprise wasn't unusual, but the physical response was. Most of my clients didn't realize that the shield didn't just isolate the awen from the veil; it isolated it from the owner as well. The Faye were much more dependent on their magic than we were, and most of them had an unpleasant reaction to being cut off, but I'd never seen anyone go into a seizure because of it.
He continued to shake violently, and I watched enthralled as not only muscle but bone seemed to move beneath the surface of his skin. His hunched back straightened, adding several inches to his height, while his shoulders and neck broadened. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him as his body shifted and molded itself anew. It didn't take long for me to realize this was something different, something not right. It was only a moment before my mind put it all together, but it was too late.