The Stolen: An American Faerie Tale (16 page)

Brendan was putting his bag behind the driver's seat of his old truck.

“What did you say to Dante?” Caitlin asked as she opened the passenger side door.

Brendan climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. “I said good luck and good-­bye.” He smiled. “He said good-­bye for now.”

Caitlin fastened her seat belt. She knew that wasn't all they'd said, but she let it go. After a few deep breaths, the knot came undone in her stomach. This wasn't any different from the hospital. Put it all aside, do what had to be done.

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

B
rendan put on a pair of battered sunglasses and drove, staring straight ahead, not saying a word.

Caitlin watched the neighborhood roll by. It was a lovely and mild autumn day. The sky was a brilliant blue, lightly spattered with clouds, and the trees were awash in colors. Closing her eyes, she savored the warm sun on her face and the gentle, cool breeze coming in the open window. It was sad to think such a beautiful day could hold something so ugly. Normally on a day like this, she and Fiona would've gone to the park. She allowed herself a moment to picture the familiar scene in her head, but only a moment.

“Why Fiona?” she asked Brendan.

“What's that, love?”

“Why would a wizard want Fiona?” Caitlin looked out the window. “I mean, why her instead of any other kid out there?” The fact that she'd actually said that aloud made her wince.

“I honestly couldn't say.” Brendan didn't look from the road as he spoke. “There are a million different things that could make her stand out. Her name, the day or hour she was born, anything really.” He gave her a quick glance. “It don't matter none, though. We'll get her back, and Dante and Edward will take care of the
drochairteagal
what wants her.”

That answer didn't help, but Caitlin wasn't sure he could say anything that would. She looked at Brendan and considered him. Who was he? Where'd he come from? She didn't want the simple answers; she wanted to really know him. Didn't she owe him at least that much?

“I'm Caitlin Brady,” she said, offering her hand.

Brendan glanced at her, confusion breaking through his stone mask.

“We never were actually introduced,” she explained.

“Oh, right then. Brendan Kavanaugh. Pleasure to meet you Miss Caitlin Brady, wish it were in better times though.”

“Me, too.” She sighed and decided not to let the silence swallow them. “Do you know where you're going?”

“Aye, I think so. I'm nearly sure I remember the way, but feel free to let me know if I'm about to miss a turn somewhere.”

“How did they get into my house? And what happened to the marshals' bodies?”

“Smart girl, you are.”

“Am I?”

“Aye, it's never a bad thing to want to know more about who you're up against.”

“Oh, well, thanks. Turn left here, it's quicker.”

Brendan turned onto a side street. “The fae are bound by a set of rules called the Oaths. Part of that is the hearth protections.”

“That's why Dante and the others needed Eddy's permission to come inside.”

“Aye, but the oíche found the loophole. With a piece of someone what lives there, you can sidestep those protections.”

Caitlin closed her eyes and thought of the lock of Fiona's hair she always kept in her purse. “So it really was my fault.”

“What?”

“Nothing. What about the marshals?”

Brendan made another turn. “When fae die, they never leave bodies behind. If they're killed with iron, they burn away in either darkness or light, depending on their nature.”

“I remember that.” Caitlin shivered as she thought back to the darkness and small, swirling motes of light.

“I'm not entirely sure why their bodies vanish,” Brendan said. “The best explanation I've heard that makes any bleeding sense at all is that since the fae aren't of this world, when they die they return to their home. They might've called this place home a long time ago, but not anymore.”

“Oh, well, I guess that does sort of make sense.”

Brendan laughed. “Usually, if you hear something about the fae and it makes sense, you'd best ignore it.”

“What's that word? The one you keep using to refer to Fiona.”

“
Girseach
?” Brendan asked.

“That's it. I like that. It means ‘young girl,' right?”

“Aye.”

Caitlin was about to ask how long Brendan had been in this country when he stopped the truck across the street from her house.

“That was quick.”

“Aye, and we need to be. There's another stop to be made later on, and it's best not to linger.” He opened the door and got out. “Let's be done with this, love.”

Caitlin walked around the truck, and Brendan took up step beside her as they walked to her house.

“Is it safe inside?” she asked.

“I'm betting it is, but I'll go in first to be sure.”

Caitlin fought her unease as flashes of the previous night came back to her.

Brendan must have sensed it, because he put his hand on her shoulder. “You're not alone this time.”

She smiled at his choice of words as she knelt to get the spare key hidden under a rock.

Brendan took it, but he found the door unlocked. He handed the key back and stepped inside. After a moment, he opened the door wide. “Nobody's home.”

The inside felt more alien to Caitlin than the outside had. Without wanting to, she looked around the room and finally understood what
violated
really meant.

“Don't think on it.” Brendan closed the door. “You can't be letting your mind wander. Focus on the business to be done.”

“Right.”

When Caitlin reached the top of the stairs, she saw Brendan still standing in the living room. “Would you mind coming with me?”

“Flattering as that offer is—­”

“No, you oaf,” she said through a smile. “I mean come upstairs and wait outside my room while I change. I just don't like being alone in here right now.”

“Oh, right, then. Sorry.” He bounded up the stairs and followed her down the hallway.

She went into her bedroom but didn't close the door all the way. “You have any suggestions on attire?” she asked.

“Something loose and comfortable is your best bet. Think of going on a hike, and dress for that. Bring a jacket with you as well.”

She tossed clothes on the bed as she came across what she wanted. A pair of jeans, a long-­sleeved shirt, fresh socks, sports bra, clean underwear, and a pair of hiking boots.

She stripped off her dirty clothes and slipped into the clean ones. It felt nice to change, but she wished she could've done it after the shower. After she tied her boots, she grabbed a light jacket from the closet and opened the door.

Brendan was looking at the wall opposite her room. He turned to her as she stepped out. “All done, then?”

“Will these work?” She held out the coat and showed him the boots.

“They'll do fine, yeah. If you're ready, I think it's past time we were getting out of here.”

“Almost. I need to get something else before we go. It's important.” She paused at the door to Fiona's room long enough to take a deep breath, then pushed the door open with shaking hands. The first thing she noticed was the stump of wood still in the bed. The sight of it made her knees a little weak, and she had to look away to swallow back the rising emotions.

“Now's not the time to face this,” Brendan said from behind her. “You're best saving this for when the business is done.”

“No.” Caitlin scanned the room. “That's not why . . .” She started to worry that it wasn't here. Finally, she saw what she was looking for.

She picked up the small brown bear. It had a green shamrock on its left foot and a green bow around its neck. She squeezed it tight when the tears started up again.

“Paddy Bear.” She held the bear up to Brendan. “It's Fiona's favorite.”

Brendan smiled. “I'm sure she'll be happy to be seeing him again.”

Caitlin played with the bear's ears and straightened its bow.

“Love, we need to be going,” Brendan said. “What say we get the little fella to her, aye?”

Caitlin tucked it into one of her jacket pockets. “All right, could you—­”

Brendan grabbed the stump before she could ask and they headed for the stairs.

He glanced out the sidelight before resting his hand on the front doorknob.

“What is it?” she asked. There were no wards here, so she knew it couldn't be one of those thread bomb things. She wondered, with some concern, if faeries or wizards ever used real bombs.

Brendan didn't speak. He just waited. Then he threw open the door. It bounced against the doorstop and went to close again. Several small knives streaked in and stuck in the wood. A large sword blade cleaved the air a moment later, but Brendan stepped to one side and avoided it. As the sword struck the ground, he reached out the door with one hand, then twisted and heaved a form, still holding the giant blade, screaming through the air.

“Get to the truck!” Brendan shouted as he tossed Caitlin the keys. “Get the hell out of here!”

“But—­”

“I'll find you, love. Just go!” Brendan grabbed one of the slender knives from the door, hurled it at the form getting to its feet, and followed it up with the stump.

Caitlin watched, frozen in place, as the knife sank into the creature and the stump slammed into its chest, knocking it back down.

“
Damnú air,
I said go!” Brendan charged the creature.

Its skin was dark green; its huge eyes were red and far too big for its head. It had no nose to speak of, but it did have pointed, bat-­like ears. It snarled at Brendan and showed its long, pointed canine teeth. They wouldn't have been out of place on a wolf, or maybe a tyrannosaur.

Brendan leapt at the creature and tackled it to the ground.

Caitlin ran through the door, grabbing a knife for herself on the way. Halfway down the walkway there was a blur of darkness in the corner of her eye. She turned and saw nothing, but when she looked back, an oíche was standing in her path.

In an instant, she made her choice. She didn't stop or even slow down. Instead, she increased her speed. This tactic seemed to catch the oíche off guard. He didn't move, and she slammed into him, hard. She used the momentum to drive the knife deep into his chest, then shouldered him out of the way.

The oíche fell to the ground and Caitlin didn't look back. She just focused on the truck and kept running.

The driver's side door seemed miles away, and she could feel someone on her heels. Reaching her hand out in desperation, she grabbed the handle and pushed the door out, slamming it hard into the pursuing faerie. Though he'd seemingly recovered from the knife wound, the steel in the old truck's door wasn't so forgiving.

A cloud of darkness and twinkling lights burst from the other side of the door, and the creature fell to the ground, writhing and screaming.

Caitlin jumped in the truck, shut the door, started the motor, and, after putting the truck in gear, stomped on the gas.

Creatures of every size and shape began leaping at her.

She didn't bother trying to dodge them—­quite the opposite. She plowed right over them, using the steel bumper of the truck as a battering ram. Puffs of darkness exploded in her peripheral vision, and satisfaction rose in her.

“Take that, you bastards!”

Throwing the steering wheel hard to the right, she took a corner much faster than she'd normally be comfortable with, but with the rush of adrenaline, it didn't seem to matter.

After several blocks, she slammed on the brakes and came to a screeching stop. Her heart was pounding and her breathing was shallow.

None of these attacks made sense. They weren't subtle, but nothing and no one around her seemed to stir. There'd even been an explosion at Eddy's house. Eddy might live in a secluded area, but this neighborhood was in the middle of suburbia. Where were the sirens? Where were the police cars? Someone had to have seen that attack, or at least heard the noise. She knew most of her neighbors, and many of them were well armed. It didn't make any sense.

Her hands began to shake, and she realized that she had no idea where to go. Brendan had just told her to leave, that he'd find her, but how would he? Come to think of it, how had he found her last night?

Movement drew her attention to the right.

With her foot ready on the accelerator, she turned to see Brendan vault over a fence that was easily six feet high and run to the truck.

“Oh, thank God.”

He ran around the truck to the driver's side as she put it in park and slid over to the passenger's side.

“I'd intended you to get a bit farther away than this,” he said as he climbed in.

“I didn't know where to go. You didn't say—­”

“It's okay, love,” he said and put the truck in gear. “You were brilliant.”

Caitlin returned his smile as the truck sped off down the street.

“What happened?” Caitlin asked. “What was that thing in the house? It didn't look like an oíche.”

“It weren't,” Brendan said.

Caitlin could hear something in his voice.

“It was a goblin.”

“A goblin?” Caitlin looked over her shoulder as if it were right behind them. “I don't get it, what's a goblin doing coming after us? Are there goblins in the Rogue Court?”

“I don't know every faction of the Rogue.” He turned down another street. “I do know the alternative isn't promising.” He slowed to a more reasonable speed and continued to make turns.

Caitlin could tell he was heading for the interstate. She considered not asking, but she couldn't help herself. “What's the alternative?”

Brendan sighed. “The oíche are getting backed by members of the Dusk Court. That would mean this civil war could be a lot bigger and a lot uglier.”

“You mean an all-­out war between the fae courts?”

“Aye, and with this world as the prize for whoever comes out on top. No more Oaths, no more hearth protections, no more limits on their influence in this world.”

She swallowed. “What would that mean?”

Brendan licked his lips, obviously weighing what to tell her. “You really want to know?”