The Holders

27



Over the next few days I made impressive progress in the strength department, if I do say so myself. The day after my first imparted conversation with Alex I was able to do most of my talking verbally – though we kept Mr Anderson around just in case – and by the evening after that I was actually sitting up. Granted I was still napping more than an infant, but hey, progress is progress.

During the time I’d been awake I had visitors galore. Min was always in and out, checking my saol, making sure nothing was wrong. Cormac was a little worse for wear from his ordeal, scratches and bruises on his face and arms, but he still came to see me, more than anxious to hear about my use of the Iris and what it was like. Chloe was with me whenever she could be, bringing me magazines, chatting away about this and that, and – bless her – brushing out and braiding my hair. Ryland was brought over to see me once I was strong enough not to scare him, and Mr Anderson and Mr Reid even moved their three o’clock game of the day from the Lorcan lounge to my infirmary room so I could play.

But even with all the care and attention I was getting from everyone around me, after ten days in the same room I was craving nothing more than fresh air and the sight of anything other than beige-gray infirmary room walls. Finally, after two days of begging, Alex agreed to take me with him to Lorcan when he went for a change of clothes.

The air outside was cold and blustery, and the sun was completely hidden behind the blanket of gray clouds. Most people would have considered it miserable, but to me it was heaven. I held his arm as we made our way over to Lorcan and up the front steps.

“I thought you needed clothes?” I asked, as Alex led me past the main stairs and down the hall.

“I do, but you’re not ready for all those stairs yet. I need to drop you off somewhere first, and I’ll pick you up after I change.”

“Aw, you mean I don’t get to watch?” I asked innocently.

His ears caught fire and he had to swallow before answering. “Um, no. Someone’s expecting you. Maybe next time,” he said with a wink, making it my turn to blush.

“Where are we going then?”

“Jocelyn’s office.”

“I should have known,” I groaned.

“He wants to see you.”

“Wants to yell at me, you mean.”

“I’m sure he just wants to see that you’re all right. He’s been worried.”

“Not worried enough to come and see me.”

“That’s not true; he was there a lot the first few days.”

“Right, because that’s better; he’ll come to see me as long as I’m not awake.”

As we arrived outside the door to Jocelyn’s office, Alex turned to face me, placing his hands on either side of my neck. “Becca, listen to me. I know this isn’t what you’d rather be doing, but please try and behave yourself in there. You’re not strong enough to throw a temper tantrum, just yet.” He smiled, though I could see the genuine worry hovering in his eyes.

Much as I wanted to argue, he had a point. My one-on-one times with Jocelyn didn’t exactly have the best track record, and I could just imagine the scene he was envisioning: me throwing a fit, passing out, and having to live another week at death’s door, all because I couldn’t control my temper.

Yeah, I guess that sounded like me.

But not today. Today I had to keep it together, and take what was coming to me. I’d disobeyed a direct order and caused everyone loads of unnecessary worry and trouble because of it. I would be an adult about it and swallow my medicine like a woman.

In any event, Alex was right. Even if I wanted to try and fight back, I knew I couldn’t. I was still too weak to get worked up, and I wasn’t going to risk my safety. I needed to stay healthy for my own sake of course, but even more for the sake of the pale, worn, beaten-down man standing in front of me.

Alex had been through hell the past week and a half, that much was clear just by looking at him. Since the moment he found me almost dead in that old music room, he hadn’t left my side once, not for anything. Even at night he stayed, flatly refusing to go back to his own room. Instead, he slept on the reclining rocking chair in my infirmary room, insisting it was comfortable. And I use the term “sleep” loosely, as I was sure that he was doing little more than catnapping, at best.

“OK, I’ll make you a deal,” I said, seeing an opportunity. “I’ll go talk to Jocelyn, staying perfectly calm and collected – if you promise to do something for me.”

“Which is?” he asked with a suspicious raise of his eyebrows.

“Tonight, you sleep in your own bed.”

The wry amusement in his eyes vanished. “No.”

“Alex, you need to sleep, you’re a mess.”

“No.”

“You’re not sleeping well in that chair, I know you’re not. You can’t keep this up, or you are going to hurt yourself.”

“It’s not going to happen, Becca.”

“Fine,” I huffed. “Then at least let Min give you something to help you sleep.”

“No way, that stuff knocks you dead!”

“Have you seen a mirror lately? Trust me, you need it,” I said, giggling.

“But what if…?” The worry in his eyes finished his sentence for him.

“Alex, I’m OK,” I said softly, willing him to believe me. “The only thing wrong with me now is that I’m worried about you. Promise me you will let Min help you sleep tonight.”

“Jocelyn is waiting for you,” he said, trying to distract me.

“I haven’t heard a promise yet.”

“Fine,” he sighed.

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to watch you drink it,” I warned, poking him in the chest.

“I said I will, now stop stalling and get in there,” he said, nodding at the wooden doors behind me.

In one last ditch effort, I got up on my toes and kissed him, which was hard to do effectively, considering he was laughing.

“Nice try,” he said, leaning back and spinning me by the shoulders to face the office. Before I could stop him, he reached around me and knocked loudly on the door.

“Come in,” Jocelyn’s voice said from inside.

“I’ll be here to walk you back when you’re done,” he said softly, giving me a peck on the cheek. With that, he stepped over and pushed the door, holding it open for me. I shot him a scowl – which was intended to strike fear, but to my annoyance, only earned a chuckle – and walked past him into the office, my head held high.

As I stepped into the room, I looked up toward the desk to find Jocelyn with his back to me, staring out the window. As the door groaned to a close behind me, he turned taking a few steps toward me, hands behind his back, no expression on his face.

With a shaky breath, I walked forward, chin up, ready to get it over with.

I braced myself as he looked at me. “How are you feeling?” he asked, throwing me off.

“Good. Much better,” I said, trying not to sound confused. I’d expected him to go right into my scolding. “Just tired,” I added, in the interest of being honest.

“I’m sure,” he said. Then, motioning me to one of the large brown armchairs, said, “Sit.”

Normally I would have said no, but the walk over here had actually worn me out, and I figured sitting less a sign of weakness than passing out on the floor. Plus, it was probably a good idea to be seated for what was coming. Though, I had to admit, he didn’t seem like a man who was about to deliver a first rate tongue-lashing. Even his suggestion to sit was just that – a suggestion. It wasn’t a command or an order, but simply an offer made out of what seemed to be concern.

I sat, trying to hide my confusion. What was this? Why didn’t he get on with it? Finally, I decided that if he wasn’t going to bring it up, then I would.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know it was stupid.” He didn’t reply, but his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Leaving with Taron…” I said, though it sounded more like a question. Could he really not have known what I was talking about?

Realization flashed in his eyes and he nodded. “Yes it was,” he said, “but I don’t think you need me to tell you that. You can’t be held to blame for that, in any event.”

Now it was my turn to be confused. “Wait, so… you didn’t bring me here to… you know… yell at me?”

He turned slightly away from me and looked down at the floor, his eyes closed. “No,” he said quietly, turning and walking back toward the window. “I didn’t bring you here to yell at you.” The sadness in his voice made me feel suddenly guilty. “I brought you here to apologize,” he continued without looking back at me. My eyes almost shot out of my head, but I kept my mouth shut. “I had no right to try and direct your personal relationships. The situation caught me off-guard, and I overreacted. Alex is a wonderful man, and the connection you share is exceedingly rare, if not unheard of. The two of you are very lucky.”

“Thank you,” I said after a moment. It seemed like the appropriate thing to say, but honestly I wasn’t sure. At this point I was completely shocked.

“I reacted the way I did because I was trying to protect you. I didn’t want you to have to suffer…” He trailed off, not finishing his thought, and was silent for so long that I started to think he wouldn’t continue. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, he said, “I didn’t think much about my reaction because I assumed that you would understand. You of all people have seen the damage…” Again he trailed off, and began to slowly pace back and forth behind his desk. “But I was wrong to think that. You had no reason to understand because I never gave you one, which was wrong of me.”

He looked at the ground as he spoke, wringing his hands together behind his back. I’m not sure what it was – the sudden tenseness of his shoulders, the slight furrow in his brow, the way he seemed to be struggling for words – but something began to make me feel awkward. My gut was warning me that whatever it was he was about to tell me, I didn’t want to hear. I laced my hands together in my lap and waited for him to continue, uncomfortably on edge.

“There are things I’d like to tell you about me, and my past, but I will only do so if you wish to hear them.” He looked up at me, and while I didn’t look away I didn’t quite meet his eyes. “All I ask is that you give me the next few minutes before you make a decision. There is only one thing I wish to tell you about today. After that, if you decide you would like to know more about me, I will be happy to tell you the rest over time. But as I said, I am only asking. I understand that you owe me nothing, and I won’t force anything on you.”

As he waited for my answer, I fought to keep my expression neutral. I had no idea what he wanted me to know, nor was I so sure I wanted to know it. But what could I say?

“OK,” I agreed, my voice a little thinner than I would have liked.

Seeming pleased that I was willing to listen, his stance relaxed slightly as he walked slowly back toward the window. “I don’t know if you are aware of it, but this past year was my two hundredth on this earth. A great deal has happened to me and to the Holder race in general in the last two centuries, but today I will give you only the information that is applicable to the story at hand.”

He paused behind his desk, staring down at the floor, as if he were not sure where to start. After a long moment, he looked up – though not at me – and began. “When I was a boy, I attended school here at St Brigid’s. Back in that time, it was a boy’s boarding school, one of the finest anywhere in the world, in fact. I began my schooling here at age seven, and when I was sixteen my Awakening occurred. With no other Holders in my acquaintance at the time, I had no idea what was happening to me. Why I could suddenly hear everything that everyone around me was thinking. I began avoiding people, hiding. For a while I believed I was possessed. Nearly two years after my Awakening was when Darragh found me. He took me in, explained what had happened to me, what I was. He had a Sciath forged for me,” he said. He held up his right hand, with the large ruby ring and said, “and even introduced me to other Holders, Taron being one of the first. I stayed with Darragh for many years, quickly becoming his second. Of course, he was very careful that I never found out who I truly was, and that it wasn’t mere chance that he found me and took me under his wing. I never realized that he’d been looking for me – looking for the only one who could give him what he truly wanted.”

“You mean the prophecies and all that? He never told you?”

“No. I only knew that he had something called the Black Iris, that it was somehow the key to ultimate power, and that Darragh had not yet discovered how to use it – that last bit being, of course, a lie. He knew how to use it; he simply didn’t have the means, which is why he needed me. I had no idea what he was planning to do with it. I didn’t know about all the horrible things he was doing, not only to the humans he despised so much, but to other Holders as well. He wanted me kept in the dark until he was certain that I was irrevocably behind him. When he discovered I wasn’t nor would I ever be, I was forced to escape.”

“How did he find out?”

“I refused to create Drones for him. The man that assisted Taron during your capture was a Drone.”

“Yeah, I heard Taron say that, what does it mean?”

“A Drone is a human who has had their entire memory erased. Every thought, every sight, every feeling – gone. All they are capable of is existing and following orders. Mindless slaves.” The censure in his voice was hard to miss. “When he tasked me with their creation, I refused, finally seeing Darragh for the monster that he was. A few days later I made my escape.”

“But how? And if Darragh only wanted you so that you could give him someone who could use the Iris, why didn’t he just make you have kids right away? And if he had the Iris back then why do we have it now?”

He smiled at my curiosity, shaking his head. “Those are all stories for another time. For now, suffice it to say I got away, but still had no knowledge of any of the prophecies regarding myself.”

“When did you find out?”

He stiffened slightly at my question, and I got an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Not until it was too late,” he said, with an echo of hopelessness in his voice. “I was on business in London when…” He hesitated, his jaw tight. “On second thought, there isn’t time today for me to tell you how I met your mother, but I can tell you that after that moment – the moment she shook my hand – my life ceased to be my own.” After a long pause, during which I focused my eyes on the leg of his desk, he continued. “I resigned my position as headmaster of St Brigid’s, and told the Order – which was only just beginning at the time that I was leaving. I was ready to be done with it all and have a real life. Ready to be happy.” He leaned back against the frame of the window, arms crossed, with a far off look in his eyes. “Judith and I left for the States, and were married. Moved into the house in Maine. Had you.” He glanced over to me, then away again. “They were the happiest years of my life,” he added softly. “We hadn’t planned on having Ryland. He was what you might call a happy accident. And on that subject,” he looked up at me, “you have been wonderful to him. Taking care and looking after him the way you have. He was very lucky to have had you growing up, as I’m sure he knows.”

“You told me to,” I whispered without looking up. The words were out before I could stop them. When he didn’t respond, I glanced up to find him looking at me with something between surprise and pain.

“I didn’t think you would remember that,” he breathed.

But I did remember. I remembered it like it was yesterday, though I’d not let myself think about it in almost a decade. As the memory of that final meeting reared in my mind, I stamped it back down, in no condition to go there, nor did I want him bringing it up. My emotional state was on shaky enough ground as it was, and honestly, he didn’t seem to be faring much better.

Luckily, he cleared his throat and moved on. “A week after Ryland was born I received a letter in the mail. It had in it the prophecy regarding both me and my son, and a note that said Darragh was on his way to take us all. I panicked. I’d seen firsthand the sort of things Darragh did to those he captured. I knew Ryland would be used only to power the Iris, and you and your mother would be either droned or killed. There was no time to call for help, no time to do anything but run. But I didn’t want that for you. I wanted you to live your lives, not to have to spend them constantly in fear. There was only one thing I could think of to do – hide you all away where no one could find you. Not even me.

That evening I did something I swore I would never do. I compelled your mother. I made her believe we’d planned to move. Put false memories in her mind about house-hunting and job-searching. Then I told her that I would have to stay behind to finish my semester at the university, but that…” He tapered off, then tried again. “But that I would follow.” After another pause, he added quietly, “I want you to know that you were right the other day. What I did was selfish. I’ve always known that.”

I looked up at him, only to see so much guilt etched on his face that I had to look back down.

“At the time I’d considered the alternative scenarios I could have left her with. I’d even considered making her believe I’d died. But, I couldn’t. I… wanted her to remember me. I pretended the reason was Ryland. I knew one day I would have to bring Ryland here and that it would be easier to get Judith to agree if she knew who I was. But I’ve also always known that to only be an excuse. What I did, I did for me. I wanted to keep the hope that one day, when all this is over, that I could…”

He dwindled off again, and I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take. Just as I was going to excuse myself, offering to finish this another time, he continued. “The only person I entrusted any of this to was Taron, who I’d believed had long split with Darragh, as I had. I told him about the letter and that I would be returning to St Brigid’s. I had him make all the arrangements for your move – the travel, the house, even getting the position at the hospital for your mother – so I wouldn’t know where you were. I assumed that it was safer that way, not realizing it was all done in vain, as thanks to Taron, Darragh knew where you were all along.” There was so much bitterness in his tone that I started to wonder if Taron was in fact still alive. “He also made all the arrangements for your new name.”

“New name?”

“Changing your name to Ingle, I mean. I had Taron send new identification for you all, so there wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“No, that can’t be right. My name has always been Ingle, even before all of that.”

He shook his head. “You were born Rebecca Clavish. When I spoke to you in my office before you left,” he paused for a moment before continuing, “when I told you to take care of Ryland, the last thing I did was change your name.”

“You compelled me too?” I whispered, not doing much to mask the fact that I was upset by the idea.

“I had to.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said with a humorless smile.

I remembered Jocelyn calling me into his office the evening before we were set to move. He sat me up on his desk and told me that I was going to have to take care of Mommy and baby Ryland while he was away. I told him that I was a big girl now and promised that I would take care of everything. Yet, as the images of that meeting ran through my mind, they seemed oddly different. While I’d never let myself think about that night as a whole, I’d always remembered Jocelyn looking tired and distant. As a girl, I had assumed it was because he had spent all night packing with Mom and needed sleep. When I was older, after I knew he had left us, I assumed that he was simply tired of us. Tired of the family he didn’t want, and anxious to be on his way.

But I’d been wrong. I could see through my hate and pride to the horrible clarity underneath, where tired distance can, in different lighting, look a lot like sadness.

My throat closed up on me and I doubted it was possible to feel more terrible than I did at that moment. Could it be true? Did I want it to be true?

Jocelyn was silent for a moment, letting me collect my thoughts, or possibly collecting his own, before he said, “You should get back to the infirmary, you still need your rest. It was probably wrong of me to put all this on you when you are still so weak, but you deserved to know. Will you be able to make it back?” He walked over to my chair and extended a hand, helping me up.

“Alex is waiting to walk with me.”

He nodded then slowly walked back to the window. I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.

“I know you think that I mistreated your mother terribly, and there is no one on this earth that agrees with you more than I do,” he said quietly, with his back to me, once again staring out the window. “But I want you to know that no matter how long I live my last thought on this earth will be of her.”

He didn’t turn to look at me, and he said nothing else. I tried again to leave, worried that the tears I could feel burning my eyes were going to brim over before I was able to make it out the door. Yet I couldn’t seem to make myself go. Something in me wouldn’t let me leave – not like that. I could see how hard it was for him to tell me everything he had, and I wanted to let him know that – while I wasn’t yet sure what to make of it – I appreciated it. I wasn’t quite ready to ask for or offer forgiveness, but I had to somehow let him know that I understood.

I could have told myself that none of it was true, or that even if it was true it didn’t matter. I could have said that it didn’t change anything, or that I was past caring, or that I had gotten over everything, or any of the other claims I’d spent years making. But I couldn’t.

As I stood there, looking at the father that I knew both so well and not at all, the man whom I’d both loved and hated, I realized that for the first time in almost ten years I didn’t want to be the tough one, or the strong one, or the one who was always in control.

I realized that, just for this moment, I didn’t want to pretend.

He didn’t hear me approach. I didn’t give him any kind of warning or apology; I simply leaned over… and hugged him.

At first he tensed – probably out of shock – but then slowly relaxed, bringing his arms up around me. His hug seemed wary at first, but soon became strong. Really strong. He was suddenly holding me so tight I could barely breathe.

“Mo ghile beag,” he whispered raggedly into my hair.

After a few moments we released each other. I turned and walked toward the door without so much as a glance backward. I stepped out of the office and began to make my way down the hall in a fog, staring at the floor.

Mo ghile beag.