Page 105

I link arms with Sionnach to face the shadow priest. “Stop, Charlie. You don’t understand.”

“Charlie!” the priest bellows a laugh. “That dolt is who you think me to be?” His Irish accent is heavier, less fluid than Sionnach’s. “Fools, the both of you.”

At this, the priest brings the torch near his face. A red-eyed Jeremy Olk stands before us clad in the black cassock and robes of an eighteenth-century priest. “You don’t remember me, spy, but your face burns in my soul.”

“You’re not Father Colm,” says Sionnach.

The torch flames shift from the red orange of natural fire into the purple-blue flames of the hellfire destroying the Veil. “I would never profess to be such a great man.” Olk shows his teeth. “A man whose flesh was parted from his brain because of you.”

I shudder at the memory of the man I believed to be Jeremy Olk describing the pitch-capping practice of Cornwallis.

Olk catches the movement. “And you, damn woman, nearly sent this wretch to his reward.” He stalks around the room as we counter his moves to stay as far away as possible. A finger with a nail bruised black points to Sionnach. “This man murdered Father Colm and the dreams of us all who wished to follow his work. I returned from Spain to serve my faith and found death.” Olk spits on the floor in front of Sion. “You alone destroyed the good father’s mission.”

Sion’s voice quavers. “I never laid eyes on you in Father Colm’s presence. You’re a demon sent to do the devil’s work.”

“I am Father Jeremy O’Neill, a disciple of Father Colm. It is you who carried out the devil’s plan when you spoke my beloved priest’s name to the English.”

I twist Sion’s sleeve in my hand as I stare at the monster. “How are you still alive?”

Olk’s laugh sends the sensation of needles spiking into my flesh. “Finnbheara’s not the only power open to dealings.”

Sion’s voice floats through the air. “Where there is light, there is darkness.”

Once the Olk creature reaches the window, he stills, glancing into the night. “The Celtic day wanes before us.” He waves the torch. Cool flames turn gray stone to muted sapphire. His voice oozes with the arrogance of the self-righteous. “Prepare to embrace eternal torment, Sionnach Loho.”

My blood stirs as the air shimmers around Sionnach. He’s calling the Veil.

Olk flicks a wrist as if shooing away a fly and the thin sheets of glass around us crack, then shatter, scattering multi-hued shards across the floor.

Sionnach moans. I press a palm to his chest and feel the weakness of his heartbeat. What has Olk done to him?

Backing away from the shower of glass brings me near the steps. I motion Sionnach behind my back to draw closer while I glare at the thing that was Jeremy Olk.

This will not be our end. My default is always to cower or run but not now. I will act for Sionnach, for myself to shed the bonds of timidity and fear that held me for so long. “No god will welcome you into heaven for hunting a Veil guide.”

The tarnished priest reaches to light the closest torch with his own before he leers at us. Flickers of blue and purple race across stone. “Revenge is my heaven.”

I point a finger at Olk’s bloodshot eyes. “Revenge will lead you straight to hell.” Grabbing Sionnach, I turn and leap into the center shaft of the turret. The monster’s ignorance of my power to initiate travel allows us the seconds we need to escape.

As Olk bellows, the Veil plucks us from the tower.

Chapter 26

The Cottage

We land in the Veil forest where Sionnach first introduced me to the other worlds existing alongside our own. He falls to his knees, face as pale as the moon, gasping for breath. In a flash, he grabs my sleeves and shakes. “You’ve got to go back. To your time, your life, your friends. We’ll both die if you stay.”

I cover his hands with mine. “This is my time, and you are my life.” The fánaí tree is next to us. I reach into the bag of clothing and throw him a leine, vest, and britches.

He makes no move to transform from Victorian servant to peasant. “What are you about, Eala?”

“We’ll both go to your parents. Make your peace, and your soul will be free.” I grab the collar of his shirt to pull him in. “Anamchara, we will end the soulfall tonight.” Any protest dies when I capture him in a kiss to emphasize the non-negotiable nature of my plan.

He returns the kiss with ferocity.

“Tell me how to travel to your parents,” I say, trading my dress for a leine and skirt without hiding behind a tree. My near-naked body offers a sensual promise to be collected when we succeed. “Olk finds us when you call the Veil. If I do it, maybe he can’t follow.”

Sionnach strips to his boxer briefs. The contours of his body are beautiful in starlight. He dons peasant clothes in the space of a sentence. “I can outdo the bastard.”