THIRTY-EIGHT
“Burning down the house”
Our exodus from Dublin is a somber one.
It isn’t easy to leave the city. It takes a small army of us to battle our way out.
Before we go, we set up sound decoys at the north, south, and west edges of the city, in abandoned neighborhoods where nobody hangs anymore. Dancer hooks them up, broadcasting from a central radio source. Even Ryodan is impressed, making me über-proud Dancer is my best friend! Hopefully it’ll be enough to keep the Hoar Frost King from being drawn to all the noise we have to make in order to escape the snowy prison Dublin has become.
I make a quick pit stop in the Cock and Bull tavern and take something off the wall I been dying to have ever since Dancer mentioned it. It’s the only place I could remember seeing a whip, mounted like art next to a set of giant bullhorns. I got no doubt it’ll come in handy somehow. And if not, so what? I can’t resist making something move faster than the speed of sound. Sonic booms are so going to be me!
Truck engines roar, scraping a path so Humvees and buses can lumber between snowdrifts piled in enormous banks, iced solid as rock. Streets are impassable with the stuff, and still it falls, landing thick on our windshields. We got dudes up front driving snowplows and trucks that scatter chunks of salt. I got no clue where they found the equipment. We don’t get this kind of snow. Knowing Ryodan, he’s got all of it tucked away in a warehouse somewhere, prepared for any and every eventuality, even the seemingly impossible.
Got to admit, I like that about him. I’m used to feeling like I’m the only one sees the hard things coming, and I’m always angling to skew the odds in my favor. It’s nice to know somebody else is preparing, too.
He’s right. The hole has to be plugged because the boat is sinking. Another few days and I’m not sure our exodus would be possible. We’d be iced in. I hate the plan we’re about to put in motion but we got to do it. Sometimes when all hell’s breaking loose the only thing to do is to break more hell loose.
Before it’s too late.
When we get to the abbey and tell her what we’re going to do, Kat’s going to have a total meltdown.
Night brings a violet aurora borealis to our home. Aubergine and gentian flames flicker on shiny ice-capped snow as if on the swells of an alabaster ocean.
We gather at the windows of the common room to watch the dance of violet vapors. I am appalled to realize how much time I’ve spent in my chambers the past month, so as not to betray Cruce’s visitations. I did not see we were all going off alone for similar reasons. Our abbey had become hauntingly quiet and lonely with me, their leader, unaware. I will never again permit myself to forget that isolation is the first step to defeat.
Tonight our unwanted visitor is conspicuously absent. It is the first evening in weeks he has not dogged my step. He knows we are angry and his appearance would only further rile us. Margery, too, is absent. I will confront the wasp in our nest come morning. She and I will reach terms or she will leave.
Tonight we break into our precious stash of corn sealed airtight in jars late last summer, popping it with oil over flame. We make the evening a celebration, warmed by the last of the cider scalded over a fire, spiced with cinnamon and clove. Communion, warmth, good scents in the air, contribute to a feeling of thanksgiving and hope, and we reconnect into the family we once were with new appreciation. Now that we all know Cruce was plying his seduction upon each of us, we are no longer divided by guilt.
When I hear the roar of engines approaching the abbey, I fear for the safety of my girls and bid them retreat to the cafeteria while I see to the door. Three of those who served in the Haven, Rowena’s inner circle, refuse to leave, and another three step forward to join them, Tanty Nana at the forefront, her eyes wise in twin nests of wrinkles. They infuse me with courage. I begin to understand the purpose of the chosen inner circle.
The seven of us bundle into cloaks, scarves, and mittens, and step out into the snow. Lavender lights wisp across a twilight terrain, evoking a surreal, dreamy ambience. We watch as trucks with enormous blades carve their way up our white-capped drive followed by four Humvees and two buses.
When Ryodan steps down from the driver’s seat of one of the trucks, for the briefest of startled moments I think: But how serendipitous, I can ask him to tow the IFP away!
Common sense asserts itself and my heart grows chill.
Yes, I wanted to see him. But for this man to come here tonight, for him to use machines to bulldoze a path through mountains of ice to reach our home, means we have something he wants.
Badly.
Through narrowed eyes, I regard him. Lack of visible cloven hoof, tail, or horns does not disguise the devil at my door. He glides, long-limbed and sure-footed, through the snow. He is a beautiful man but unlike my Sean the impression is of animal grace, something not human. Coupled, of course, with the fact that he is not really here! No man stands where he walks. I sense nothing. It is shocking. It is sensational in that it is the very antithesis of sensation. Loath though I am to admit it, it is such a relief! I get nothing from him. Never have I been around anyone that affords me such blissful emotional silence.
He takes both my hands in greeting and leans in to kiss my cheek. I turn my face, press my lips to his ear and say softly, “You can’t have it. Whatever it is, you’re not taking it. The answer is no.”
His breath is warm on my ear. “I have come for something of which you’d like to be quit.”
I wonder if he always speaks in the manner he is spoken to. The devil is the master of assimilation. It is how he gains entry: he makes himself appear a friend.
“Again, no.” I think perhaps we have something to trade. Perhaps I will give him whatever it is he wants for moving the IFP. But best to deny from the onset.
He slides his hands up my arms to my elbows and cups them lightly, drawing us closer. “We could barter.”
Does he read thoughts or merely expressions so well? “Give me my Sean back,” I whisper. The stubble on his cheek abrades my skin.
“Your beloved Sean has been free to leave for weeks,” he murmurs against my ear.
I mask a tiny jerk and swallow a cry of protest. I do not know whether he speaks the truth. If it is a lie, it is a bitter and hurtful one.
“It is not a lie.” He lets his hands fall from my arms and steps back. I am colder where he was touching me.
I see Dani exiting one of the buses. The clouds part on my troubled heart and I am suddenly buoyant. Her fiery hair is a halo of sunshine around her glowing, delicate, eternally battered face. Her smile of greeting is infectious. How I have missed her!
I open my arms, knowing she will never run into them as I wish. Knowing any hug I steal from the child will be just that—stolen. Beneath her hardy, bruised exterior shines pure gold. She is filled with light as no one I have encountered before. It makes me both harder and gentler on her. Though she is cross and grumpy and irritable as any teen, there is not one ounce of ill will in her and she has had reason to feel it. Indeed, reasons enough to fill a book, but she radiates only excitement and happiness to be alive. I realize Ryodan is watching me watch her, intently. I wonder again if he can pick up my thoughts, and if so, how clearly?
“Why have you come?” I demand.
Dani skids to a stop on the ice in front of me and blurts in a rush of breath, “Hey, Kat, what’s up? Long time, no see, huh? Everything okay out here? You got enough to eat and stuff? Sorry I haven’t been around to check on things but I got stuck in Faery. Dude! You’re never going to believe all the stuff that’s been happening! Brrr, it’s cold out here! Oh, and we think we know how to stop the Unseelie responsible for turning our world into an arctic zone! Hey, I’m freezing, you going to let us in?”
We are again in the common room watching out the window as the most peculiar confederacy I have ever seen collaborate upon a shared goal prepares to destroy us.
I cannot see it any other way. They are wrong. It won’t work. It’s far too dangerous.
Five men who do not exist, one violent, immensely powerful, sex-obsessed Unseelie prince who believes himself in love with Dani, an exceedingly radiant and happy Jo, and a young, good-looking boy with glasses for whom Dani is the sun, moon, and stars and reminds me of my Sean but harbors secrets so dark and deep that even my gifts cannot reach them, work together to unload equipment from the buses and carry it across mounds of snow and ice to the chosen location.
While Dani told me their plan to trap the Hoar Frost King with the IFP, Ryodan remained silent, and with good reason. He knew each of my objections and that there was no valid rebuttal for any of them. At the end, when permission should have been given or withheld by me—and it most certainly would have been withheld—he informed me that if I failed to cooperate in any way, he would destroy the abbey and continue with his plan.
“You’re going to destroy it anyway,” I said.
“No we’re not. It’s going to work, Kat!” Dani exclaimed.
“You don’t know that. You don’t even know if the Hoar Frost King can be killed.”
Ryodan’s gaze reflected the same odds of success I perceive. He said simply, “How much longer do you think you and your charges will survive if this snow continues.”
He has the most jarring way of never punctuating his questions.
They plan to free a monster.
I said, “Assuming it works and the Hoar Frost King is destroyed, how do you plan to tether the IFP again?”
Even Dani had the good grace to look away.
I cannot read Ryodan. I will never be able to. But I can read the rest of them.
Deep down, they do not believe they can.