The way Finn almost did to me.
Did he know? Had he known all along and kept it from me? I remembered the constant ball of a secret in his aura, and how I’d wished to know what it was. But I’d been intent on keeping my own secret. I never thought his might be as big. Or so devastating.
My knees wobbled. I grasped the edge of the bed and bent forward, taking deep breaths, willing my dizziness to go away. Using a footstool to hoist myself up, I climbed back between the sheets. The air smelled faintly of warm lemons and herbs. A tray with a pot of tea sat on the nightstand with a delicate china cup and a full silver tea service. I lifted one small, gleaming lid to find sparkling cubes of sugar. My tongue ran over my parched lips. A carafe held ice water, and though I was suspicious of anything offered, I couldn’t resist. If they wanted me dead, it was not going to be by poison. I gulped down two glasses.
I had no way of knowing what time it was, whether it was day or night or even how much time had passed since I arrived. I was depleted to my core, far weaker than I’d been when I was ravaged by fever in the hospital. I pushed myself into the crisp sheets and curled up on my side against the pillows, thinking a body as terrified as mine, a mind as chaotic as mine, and a heart as broken as mine would never sleep.
A woman’s voice woke me. “Drink the tea.”
I rubbed my eyes and focused on the lady standing next to the bed. Real, actual daylight cast shafts of gold across her high cheekbones and on the floor at her feet. I glanced around for the source, then followed her eyes to the ceiling.
“Skylights,” she explained. “Too too high to fly.” Oh yeah, this woman definitely had ghosts. They crowded her eyes.
She reached for the silver teapot. “Here,” she said, handing me the tiny cup filled with warm tea. “To help.”
I eyed it dubiously but took a few sips while she watched with eyes like cracked green leaves. “Little bird, little pet…how did they trap it?” She wasn’t asking me. It was more like a conversation with her invisible friend. I set the cup down and spoke slowly, as one should do with a crazy person.
“How—do—I—get—out—of—here?”
Her eyes snapped from the cup I held back up to my face. “You don’t.”
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and grumbled, “We’ll see about that.”
She didn’t look very strong. Lanky. Like a teenager, though I could see she’d passed that more than a couple of decades ago. She was as pale and flimsy as thin paper. I could totally take her. I’d follow her to the door and jump her. Hot adrenaline pumped into my blood at the thought. I set my cup gently on its matching saucer. My fists clenched at my sides.
“What are you? My babysitter?”
The look that passed her face was pure pity. “No.” Then she mumbled something in Irish.
“What did you say?” I asked, irritated, ready to tackle her and get the hell out of there.
She clasped her delicate hands together and took a deep preparatory breath, like she was about to deliver the Gettysburg Address, but all that came was a weak breeze of words. “We are birds in the same cage.”
Forty-Three
“Look, lady,” I said, right up in her face, close enough to maybe break through her cobwebs. “I’m not staying here. I have no intention of hanging around and letting these guys feed off me.”
The woman laughed. In. My. Face. A fit of giggles I feared might shake loose what little glue held her sanity together.
“Where are we?”
The woman reached for a strand of her long hair, holding it between two fingers like a cigarette. She slid her fingers down to the ends, where she began plucking furiously at the tips, which were already a frayed mess. “We’re in the cave of the dragon,” she sang.
This woman was going to be of zero help.
“More tea,” she commanded with sudden urgency, shoving the cup into my face.
I knocked it to the ground, where it splintered into pieces. “I don’t want the damn tea!”
She flew frantically to a cupboard, got out another cup, and poured it full. “Drink the tea. Drink. Drink it until you can see me.”
“Until I can see you?” I suddenly realized the absence of aura. I couldn’t see her colors, which caused a surge of panic in me.
She nodded emphatically. “Tea and sleep. Sleep and tea. It’s the only way to come back to life.”
I eyed her warily but took the cup and ventured a sip. The tea was no longer hot, just tepid and bitter. I was so thirsty I slammed the liquid down too fast, bursting into a sputtery cough. Nothing special happened after I drank it, though. I watched the woman as she scuttled from place to place, picking up the broken glass, arranging the pieces in a pattern in the corner of the wood floor in an adjacent room. She ran to the wood-burning stove, scooped up some cold charcoal, and rushed back to her little art project. There had to be a way out of this. “What’s your name?” I called to her over the clink and scrape of glass against the floor.
“Gráinne,” she answered. It sounded like grawn-ya. After more soft clattering of glass, she came out of the other room and looked at me expectantly, wringing her bloody hands in front of her. I winced.
“What is your name, child?”
“Cora.”
“Cora.” She said my name slowly, tasting it in her mouth like it was a foreign flavor. Then she nodded and turned back to her project. I took a couple of shaky steps after her, but stopped when I saw her huddled on the floor, rocking back and forth, bloody hands around the knees of her white skirt.
I felt so sorry for her. She was a fragile stalk, blowing in an invisible wind.
“I’m going to try to get us out of here,” I said. “I won’t stay in here and wait to die.”
She looked up at me sadly through a curtain of dark, grimy hair. “I’ve died a thousand deaths in here. You will, too.”
I backed away, leaving her to her rocking and her ghosts. The bed was the only refuge I had. I still wasn’t myself. I could tell by the heft of my limbs, by the sweat on my upper lip from moving around the room. I needed to sleep. I needed to eat something, if only to get strong enough to escape.
A hand caressed my cheek. Softly. Appreciatively. I leaned into it. “Finn,” I moaned. I would open my eyes and be in my lavender room atop the lighthouse. Finn would be there to chase away my bad dreams. He’d call me his heart again.
“I’m sure you’ll see him soon,” a deep, melodic voice answered. My eyes flew open. “When he needs more of what you have to offer.” Clancy Mulcarr stood over me. His hand grazed the outer curve of my breast. “I’m quite proud of him for luring you here.”
I slapped his filthy hand away. “Don’t touch me!” I screamed, scrambling off the other side of the bed. His aura wasn’t white, had never been white since we had met. I didn’t understand it. It looked normal. Peaceful, actually. Only a monster could radiate peace after what he’d done.
“Don’t be thick, girl. I can take what I want without touching you. You know that.”
My heart beat ebony with the poison of betrayal. My breaths came in short, strained bursts. There was not enough air in the room. Not enough space in the universe to get away from what Clancy had said. “You said Finn lured me here?” I asked, too aware of the weakness that made my voice quiver.
“Not everything went as planned in America, I must admit. Your coming to Ireland was brilliantly cooperative. Bloody unexpected, but cooperative. We’d been watching you for so long. I feel quite vindicated to know I was right about what you are. And how could Finn not lure you? It’s astonishing how little you know about yourself. About Finn, for that matter. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, if you had any sense at all, you’d never have let him near you.”