The Falconer (Elizabeth May) (30 page)

But he didn’t. I’m like him. I’m a monster, too.

For the briefest moment, I wish I was the girl I used to be. I’d wear frivolous white dresses and attend dances and never worry about anything ever again. But I had to destroy the girl who wore white dresses because she wasn’t capable of murder. And now I have to live with my choice.

My laugh is rough, bitter. I should resent him for everything he’s done. His lessons have been branded inside me until I’ve become what I am now, this vengeful, destructive creature. But I can’t. This is all I have, and there’s no turning back.

‘I made my own choice, MacKay,’ I remind him.

‘It was a choice I knew you would make,’ he says. ‘I saw your rage the night we met. I understood it all too well.’

We walk swiftly down the narrow path in the middle of the Queen’s Park, both of us silent. I shudder against the cold and tug my coat cuffs down over my hands. Useless. My clothes are already sopping. I tilt my head to gaze at the sky, letting the rain slide down my face. The clouds are silver, low-hanging and dark at their bottom edges.

If I die, I think I’ll miss this. I’ll miss the stars and constellations my mother loved so much. I’ll miss home. I wonder if Kiaran does, too.

‘MacKay?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Do you ever—’ I swallow once. ‘Do you ever long for the
Sìth-bhrùth
?’

We skirt around a small loch, shining silver with reflected moonlight in the dark meadow. Kiaran’s movements are stiff, as if he’s startled by the question. ‘Sometimes.’

‘What was your home there like?’

‘Beautiful,’ he says. ‘Brutal. No words in any language could ever adequately describe it.’ When I stare at him expectantly, he looks reluctant to continue. ‘I hated my home as much as I loved it.’

‘But would you go back, if you could?’

‘No,’ Kiaran replies, his voice clipped, a bit angry. ‘Never. It’s not worth it.’

‘Why not?’

He sighs. ‘Because I didn’t belong there any more, Kam. I don’t belong here, either.’

He doesn’t sound like he hates it. He sounds as if he misses it, as if he left a part of himself there that he’ll never be able to reclaim. ‘Too many painful memories there?’

I think about the Falconer he once cared for, what she might have been like. She managed to convince him to make a vow never to kill humans, to fundamentally change the creature he was born to be. What I wouldn’t give to know how she took a faery, cold and hard and brutal as any other, and humanised him.

Just when I think he might be open with me, he shuts down. His jaw tightens and he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his wet trousers. ‘Aye,’ is all he says.

We’re on the dirt path again. The soil crunching under my boots is the only noise other than the rain. The downpour has slowed to a soft, light mist that looks more like snow.

‘After midwinter,’ Kiaran says, ‘will you still marry him? The Seer?’

I suck in a breath. ‘My father wants me to.’

‘But what do
you
want?’

What you want isn’t important.

But it is. I want to leave the house without a chaperone. I want to be able to turn down dances and not smile and grieve without being judged for it. I want to feel again, the way I once did. I want . . . I want . . .

Hope again. To look forward to a day when my need for vengeance is pacified and I have a future. I know the truth. Even if I could kill Sorcha without condemning Kiaran to death, I won’t ever change. I can’t stop being what I am. This is my nature now, like Kiaran said, and I’ll never be sated.

I can’t say any of this aloud. ‘I want to decide my own future,’ I say instead.

Kiaran studies me, long and slow. ‘Don’t we all?’

A sudden powerful electric jolt shoots through my body. It happens so fast, my knees buckle and I stumble.

‘Kam?’

‘What
is
that?’ It doesn’t hurt, but the sensation isn’t exactly comfortable, either. It invades me, alien and unwelcome. My skin tightens and aches and I resist the urge to scratch my arms. It’s under my flesh, a persistent tingling. ‘Don’t you feel it?’

Kiaran shakes his head once. ‘What’s it like?’

‘Something electric.’ I shiver again. ‘It’s irritating. Like my skin is going to crawl off.’

Kiaran grasps my arm to pull me forward. ‘We must be close, then.’

The sensation only grows more intense as we continue, but also becomes more tolerable. I can feel my blood pumping through my body, urging me to move faster. I close my eyes briefly and let the feeling lead me.

I leap over a rock in a run and bound across the grass, even though I can barely see. Kiaran races beside me.

The sensation becomes more acute, electricity more intense, a magnet pulling me in. I turn onto another rocky path and realise we’re heading right for the remains of St Anthony’s Chapel.

I race to the north wall of the stone ruins, where the chapel’s entrance used to be. The energy drops to my feet before I reach the threshold and I fall to my knees in the mud.

Then I dig. With my fingers, my hands. I don’t know what the bloody hell I’m doing. I just claw at the ground desperately, breathing so hard that my throat hurts. I dig and dig until my fingernails bleed and dirt cakes my skin. Somehow I know my body won’t stop shuddering until I find the device. I have to find it. There’s a buzzing in my ears, a low clicking that only makes me dig more frantically. I have to find it. I can’t stop now.

My nails scrape against something metal. As I brush off the mud, something glows bright and golden underneath, warming to my touch. Something about uncovering it calms me. The clicking softens as I clear away the dirt that borders a luminous gold disc about the size of a carriage wheel.

The buzzing and electricity are gone and my trembling has stopped altogether. I lean over the golden cover for the seal, tracing the symbols carved into it. So beautiful and warm. There are five indentations near the edge of the disc, as if pressed there by fingertips. Compelled, I cover them with my mud-caked fingers.

The clicking stops, and suddenly I’m blinded by light.

Chapter 30

I
close my eyes against the onslaught; images in negative and colours and dots pulse behind my eyelids. Soft warmth envelops me.

When I open my eyes, the golden light is still overwhelming. It blazes in a column up to the sky, surrounding me and illuminating the chapel ruins. Rain shimmers as it falls through the light, as if I’m surrounded by shooting stars.

I finally look down at the device, surprised to see that the top plate has slid open to reveal intricate golden gears inside. They are incredibly delicate, the metal thin enough to be slightly transparent.

I’ve never seen such detailed work. So many gears and pinions whirling smoothly around each other with tiny golden levers interspersed between them. Seven rings increasing in size from the centre of the circle outwards, forming an ever-moving mechanism covered in symbols, not unlike an elaborate clock face. The symbols on the gold rings nearest the middle are the most elaborate, evolving to broader swirls on the outer rings. I think of the brand on the inside of Kiaran’s wrist, how similar it is to these designs, how utterly beautiful and detailed.

Gold markers are positioned at each of the cardinal points around the largest ring, with smaller notches between them. It’s both a compass and a clock, I realise, beautiful and mesmerising.

I feel power around me. Pure energy, soothing elation, a heat inside me that’s like bathing in sunlight. This is the kind of device I long to make. Something that unifies me, calms me. And it’s a part of my heritage I had never dreamed possible. It belongs to me.

Amid my elation, I look at Kiaran. He stands ever so still at the edge of the golden light.

‘It’s beautiful,’ I say. ‘Come over here – you should see this.’

He hesitates, gazing up at the aurulent light. ‘I can’t.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ I push to my feet and reach through the light to grip his hand. ‘See? Just come inside—’

When his fingers pass into the light, he sucks in a breath and jerks his hand from mine, clutching his wrist.

‘MacKay!’ I hurry to his side to see what’s wrong. The column of light wavers, then settles into the ground. The power is gone so quickly and I shiver against the cold. ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing,’ he says stiffly.

‘Of course it’s not nothing.’ I try to peek over his shoulder but he shifts away. ‘Show me.’

I pull his arm towards me, despite his resistance. When I see his hand, I let out a strangled gasp. There are blisters and torn red and black flesh at his fingertips, even bone peeking through, as if they have gone through fire.

‘The device is warded against anyone who isn’t a Falconer,’ he says.

I feel a pang of guilt, then. He told me he couldn’t come in and I didn’t even bother to ask why. I watch the miraculous faery healing process spread across his hand. Gleaming pale skin is already peeking through the charred black, healing over the bones of his fingertips.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I shouldn’t have—’

‘Don’t apologise – the light is meant to protect you against the
sìthichean
.’ He nods to the device. ‘Can you make it work?’

‘I certainly hope so.’

As soon as I step back inside the circle, the light rises around me again. I crouch to the ground and slide my fingers along the gold rings. Power buzzes beneath my palms, an electric current that feels embedded in the smooth, silken metal. It’s incredible craftsmanship.

Kiaran sits on a boulder and leans forward. ‘What does it look like from above?’

‘Complex,’ I reply. ‘Highly sophisticated. I don’t recognise the technology at all. How could they possibly have built this two thousand years ago?’

Kiaran looks at me, rather pityingly. ‘The
sìthichean
were far more advanced then than humans are now.’ He inclines his head towards the device. ‘That is
sìthichean
technology. A reverse-engineered and altered
iuchair
– the Seelie used it for confinement.’

Of course. I have never thought of the fae as innovators of any kind. It seems strange that such destructive creatures could build something so beautiful.

‘How did the Falconers get hold of it, then?’

He looks away. ‘They had help.’

I trace one of the swirls etched into the gold. ‘From whom?’

‘It doesn’t matter. What do the symbols look like?’

I lean forward to get a better look. ‘Complicated swirls. I don’t really know how to describe the symbols they make. There’s a star-shaped engraving next to the marker that indicates north, but the others are more obscure.’

‘I suggest you take a good look and then cover the device again so no one disturbs it. You’ll have to draw the symbols from memory.’

I look up in surprise. ‘Can’t we come back?’

‘No.’ He holds up his hand to forestall my inevitable question. ‘Kam, for once just take my word for it. Can you remember the symbols as they are now and draw them later?’

I hesitate. ‘I’m adequate at drafting, but I’ve never done so from memory.’

‘Wonderful.’ Kiaran rises to his feet. ‘Then this is the perfect opportunity for you to try.’

Chapter 31

T
he echo of the electric charge lingers as I sketch the symbols. I swear I can still feel the heat beneath my skin, flowing through my veins. It sharpens my memory, which only grows stronger with each passing moment.

I keep drawing feverishly, obsessively. The charcoal scratches across the paper as if something beyond me is in control of it. My hand can barely keep up with the pace of my mind.

Someone grasps my shoulder and I flinch. The charcoal on the paper smears.

‘Steady,’ Kiaran says. ‘You’re shaking.’

‘I’m fine,’ I lie.

Rays of low afternoon light shine through the drawing room window and settle on the paper while I sketch. My fingers are stained black with charcoal and my hand is cramping, but I can’t stop. The energy continues to pound inside me, symbol after symbol. I sketch a smaller swirl. The charcoal is so bulky compared to my memory of the delicate lines etched onto the metal, and I’m not nearly as adept at drawing something so intricate.

‘Can’t she activate the bloody contraption before midwinter?’ Gavin asks. ‘Avoid the battle completely?’

Gavin came here under the pretence of elevenhours and has been drinking tea like he does whisky ever since I explained what will happen on midwinter. Of course, he already had a vague idea of it from his visions, though he still hasn’t told me how clear the premonition has become.

He shifts in his chair and recrosses his legs, one knee bouncing rapidly. His blasted teacup is empty again. I try to ignore him and focus on my drawing.

‘No,’ Kiaran says. ‘We can’t.’

‘Could you try to be any less vague?’

‘If we could avoid it, Seer, we wouldn’t be here,’ Kiaran says. ‘And I’d imagine you’d be hiding in a hovel somewhere like the rest of your kind.’

‘Well, if
your
kind weren’t such—’

‘Gentlemen!’ I think my head will explode. ‘I can’t concentrate with you squabbling. At least Derrick is being polite.’ I glance over at the pixie, who is perched on the windowsill. ‘Make sure you stay that way.’

‘I didn’t say anything!’

‘You were considering it. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you glaring at Kiaran the whole time.’

Derrick grumbles to himself and finally says, ‘I suppose I understand why
he
is here.’ He indicates Kiaran with a faint nod. ‘But tell me, must the Seer be included in our little-end-of-the-world meeting?’

I begin another swirl, part of a new symbol that runs around the southward edge of the seal. I exhale with relief. Almost done.

‘Gavin is here,’ I say, ‘because he’s involved in this. I could have died the other night without his aid.’

A flash of guilt crosses Derrick’s face. ‘Ah. Aye.’

‘Thank you for defending my honour,’ Gavin says to me. He places his empty cup on the table. ‘Where’s your butler? I’m out of tea.’

‘For heaven’s sake,’ I say, ‘will you please sip the tea so I don’t have to pour you another cup every five minutes?’