An Immortal Descent (5 page)

Someone touched my shoulder.

“Miss Kilbrid,” James said from behind me. “Are you hurt?”

Yes.
I shook my head and tried to stand. When I stumbled, James placed a hand under my elbow. “Thank you,” I said, somewhat hoarse from the roughness in my throat.

Justine and Julian stood face-to-face. Her palm rested on his cheek, and his eyes appeared glazed, almost trancelike.

“What did you do to him?” I asked.
What did you do to us?

Justine smiled without looking at me. “Just a little something I’ve learned over the years.” Her voice sounded normal, nothing at all like a moment ago.

“What is going on here?” James demanded, still beside me.

I instinctively placed a hand on his arm. “Wait, Mr. Roth.”

Another minute passed while they continued to stare at each other. “There you have it,” Justine said at last, so quietly I almost missed it. Her hand dropped from his cheek. “You’ve learned my secret and everything that has brought us to this point.”

Julian nodded. Then his shoulders slumped forward, and he slowly sank to his knees. His head fell forward next. The tricorn hat tumbled to the ground as he buried his face in his hands. “I thought they had run away together.”

Justine touched the crown of his dark head. “It would have appeared the same to anyone without all the facts.”

“She made me so angry.” A pained groan broke in his throat. “I... I might have killed her.”

“Don’t feel too bad,” Justine said. “I’ve wanted to do the same thing on numerous occasions.” She cut me a sardonic look.

I returned it tenfold. “The feeling is mutual, Miss Rose.”

Julian raised his head at the sound of my voice. His arms fell to his side, and he moved toward me, still on his knees. “Oh, Selah. Can you ever forgive me?”

My mouth tightened with anger. “Forgive you?” I asked, incredulous. “I’ll be bruised for a week from your tantrum.”

James’s hand tightened on my elbow. “What is he going on about?”

“Just a minute,” I snapped, in no mood to be interrupted. “This is the second time you’ve held me against my will, Julian. Do it again, and I swear you’ll regret it.”

Grief marred his face. “Never again.” He shook his head to emphasis the point. “You’ve my word as a gentleman.”

Justine brushed her gloved hands together. “That sounds reasonable enough to me,” she said matter-of-factly. “Now kiss and make up. We’ve no more time to waste quibbling.”

“Are you daft?” I asked her.

“Don’t be difficult, Selah. He’s apologized, now let it go.”

“Gladly, just as soon as he leaves me be and returns to London.”

“Well, unfortunately that isn’t the plan,” she said.

I watched her for a moment, suspicion gnawing like a worm in my gut. “What do you mean?”

Justine smiled, in a feline sort of way. “I mean that Lord Stroud will be accompanying us to Ireland.”

It took a few seconds for her words to sink in. “Oh, no he’s not. The man could have killed me if you hadn’t intervened with that little mind trick of yours.” A trick I would have traded my eyeteeth to possess.

“Which is exactly why we need him,” Justine persisted. “His gift is stronger than any of us ever guessed, and that root thing may come in handy when we’ve reached Wexford.”

James gave a grunt of surprise, but I waved him off.

Julian stood in a flurry of wool. His legs seemed to protest from the weight, but he managed to stay upright. “Upon my honor, I pledge my gift to your cause.”

I gaped at both of them. “What are you talking about? There is no
we
here, other than Mr. Roth and myself.”

“Don’t be stupid. You need all the help you can get.” Justine’s expression turned devious. “If you’re nice on the way, I’ll tell you about the present I brought, and how Lady Dinley and Master Faber responded to your stealth departure.”

Catria
and
Tiarnach.

The mention of my great-grandparents’ names brought me up short, an effect not lost on Justine. “I thought you may be interested, as they expressly forbade you to leave London.”

My shoulders stiffened in defiance. “They’ve no right to dictate my actions.”

“From what I heard, they greatly disagree.” Glancing down, Justine flicked some imaginary fluff from her impeccable skirts. “As they were unable to leave London right away, I was sent in their stead.” Her dark blue eyes met mine. “I’m supposed to bring you back one way or another.”

“Good luck with that,” I said.

Justine rolled her eyes. “They’ve reason for concern, Selah, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it. How many times have you been attacked since arriving in London? And don’t try to deny it, because Cate told me everything.” She laughed darkly. “Not only have the hounds come after you in force, you’ve managed to be attacked by your own kind. That is a rare feat, if I do say so myself.”

“I’ll not be blamed for Julian’s actions.”

James’s grip tightened on my elbow. “That does it!”

I waved him off again. “Not now—”

He threw his arms in the air, releasing me with a jerk. “I will not remain silent. Not for another second until someone tells me what the devil is going on here.”

Julian said nothing, just blinked for lack of words. Justine looked amused, but offered nothing more.

Great.
So it was left to me yet again.

I heaved a sigh. “Very well. What will you know?”

James pointed at Julian. “Did he really control the branches and roots?”

“Yes, he did. Lord Stroud is goddess born, and has the gift of agriculture.”

An angry breath exploded from Julian. “How dare you tell my secret to a human!”

“Oh, get over it,” I huffed. “You already gave him a pretty big hint when you attacked him with a tree.”

Julian scoffed. “Nothing that couldn’t have been explained away.”

“What would you have me say instead? That you’re a nasty wood fairy?”

That earned a blistering look. “Mr. Roth would hardly believe something so ridiculous.”

“Fine. If you don’t like my explanation, then come up with your own next time.”

Justine laughed. “Behave, children. There’s no need to make a spectacle.”

James turned his attention to her. “And what about you, Miss Rose? I’ve seen you perform dozens of times, and have never heard a voice like the one you used on Lord Stroud.”

She winked at him. “I save it for special occasions.”

“Like whenever she needs a little mind control,” I muttered darkly.

“Is that what you did?” James asked. “I felt something the moment you first spoke, as though my will had become yours. Did you learn that in the theater?”

“Yes—” she started.

“It’s from her gift of poetry,” I interrupted. If the truth was out, it might as well be out for everyone.

Justine glared her disapproval.

“Her what?” James asked.

“She’s also goddess born, and has the gift of poetry.” I smirked at her obvious annoyance. “It’s most likely why she’s such a good actress.”

James stared at me for a moment. Then his gaze slowly circled to the others. “From their involvement, may I also assume that Lady Dinley and Master Faber are goddess born?”

Justine dropped her eyes to the ground, where she seemed to have found something of great interest. From Julian’s lack of surprise at the suggestion, I assumed my aunt had shared the connection while revealing her own identity. He also remained silent, with lips pressed firmly together.

Realizing he would get nothing from the two of them, James turned to me for answers.
Oh, well.
In for a penny, in for a pound. Rather than responding outright, I simply nodded once.

“Good heavens!” James said. “Is everyone in London descended from Brigid?”

Justine smiled at him. “Well, no,” she said. “You aren’t. And from what I can tell, neither is Nora, though there is that pirate grandfather of hers. Tuatha Dé blood has been known to drive people to seek a more adventurous life.”

While she spoke, Julian seemed to sway on his feet. I looked at him more closely and noticed he had turned white as a sheet.

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked, refusing to address the man directly lest he confuse curiosity for real concern.

Justine followed my gaze. “He’s weak from expending so much power at one time. Never a wise move unless absolutely necessary, and from what I can feel, the entire ground is saturated with it. He’ll need to visit the Otherworld soon if he’s to recover.” She placed a hand on Julian’s arm. “Can you make it to Bristol, my lord?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“The closest altar is in London,” I countered.

“By good fortune, I have another option.”

Damnation!
Indecision warred inside me. Julian could prove an important asset, but the man was unpredictable, and I didn’t fancy being tied to any more trees.

James cleared his throat. “Pardon me, ladies. Once Lord Stroud is...recovered, will he be able to command any plants or trees? Is that part of his gift?”

“Yes,” we replied in unison.

“Then he comes with us.” James took a step toward Julian and extended a hand. The moment Julian accepted, James pulled him closer until their heads almost touched. “You won’t take me by surprise again. Attack Miss Kilbrid, and I will kill you myself. Do you understand?”

Despite the exhaustion, aggression leapt into Julian’s eyes and he tightened his hand around James’s. “Perfectly.”

I looked between the two men. “Fine, he can join us, but on one condition.”

Julian lifted his head and our eyes locked.

“What is it?” James asked.

“If he attacks me again, I get to kill him.”

James didn’t hesitate. “Fair enough. You’ve my word not interfere if it comes to that.” He turned to the others. “Do we have an agreement?”

Justine laughed. “I would never dream of denying such a reasonable request.”

I stared at Julian for a moment longer, my anger no less tangible than the throbbing line of bruises across my stomach. In a jealous rage, Henry had once threatened to cleave the man open from neck to navel. I stormed from the clearing, vowing to do just that if he ever set a hand on me again.

Chapter Four

The Stolen Doorway

We rode most of the remaining miles in silence, two abreast, with the men in front of our meager party. Since leaving the woods, Justine and I had struck an unspoken truce to be, if not the best of friends, at least civil to one another. This was no small deed in light of the bad blood that had flowed between us, and all because we had shared a similar taste in men. Then again, Henry Fitzalan was no ordinary man. On the contrary, he was quite extraordinary, and no doubt half the ladies in London were secretly in love with him. The other half were either too young, too old, or blind as bats.

Almost lovers.
That was how I saw them, and the very notion of their previous intimacies made me cringe with jealousy. It didn’t help that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes upon. Even now, I couldn’t help stealing a surreptitious look at her from beneath my hood.

Great-aunt Justine.
The notion seemed no more real than when I first learned of our strange family connection mere days ago. Older sister to my deceased grandmother, she easily passed for a young lady of eighteen years with her brilliant coppery locks and a complexion of smooth cream. Though I had yet to inquire about her exact age, I guessed the woman had seen a handful of English monarchs. Quite possibly more, judging by the ages of her parents, Catria and Tiarnach.

My great-grandparents had set their birth names aside centuries ago and were currently known in London as Lady Cate Dinley and Master Tom Faber. They claimed 1500 and 1300 years respectively, a feat accomplished by Cate’s rare gift of healing combined with Brigid’s second gift, which freed them from human mortality. As Cate’s direct descendant, this longevity applied to me as well. What I didn’t know, and feared to ask, was if it also applied to Henry. For this reason, I refused to give the matter much thought, opting to cross that particular bridge when I got there.

The steady clump of hooves mixed with the rush of wind that swept through the thinning woods and over the open fields. Soothing. Repetitive. Nerve-racking. Henry never strayed far from me, his smile always a bit crooked and mischievous. Even in my memories, a bruise marred his cheek from a brawl at the theater. Vengeance heated his eyes to brilliant green.

I sighed inwardly. The man was protective and brave to a fault, with a passion for fighting that exceeded my understanding. To be sure, I was still angry as a bull at being left behind, but I loved him beyond reason and would surely forgive him within a heartbeat of our reunion. His last kiss had been to my palm, and I curled my fingers around it, holding it close.

Brief hints of sunshine continued the farther west we went. The roads remained a muddy mess from the previous storm, making for slower travel than I would have liked. Any movement was good, though, each step shortening the distance to Nora.

Close as a sister to me, my dearest friend had the courage of ten men. In my soul I knew she was still alive. But what would happen when they reached the oak grove? Would her life be forfeited to Deri’s madness?

Determination fed my aching body. Mile after mile, my prayers became a mantra.
Please let Nora be safe... Please let me kill the wretch.

“In case you’ve been wondering,” Justine said, yanking me away from the vivid image of Brigid’s knife embedded in Deri’s heart. “Sophie is caring for Lucy Goodwin in your absence.”

Guilt rolled through me. From the time we left, I’d been so focused on Nora, I hadn’t spared her mother a second thought. Nor Sophie, for that matter, who happened to be Justine’s sister and another newly discovered aunt. Since arriving in England, I seemed to be collecting relatives like other ladies collected cats.

“Is Lucy bad off?” I asked, acutely aware of my hand in her suffering. The Goodwins had come to London on my account, and were now both embroiled in a world that should never have touched them. But touch them it did, through Nora’s abduction and Lucy’s subsequent distress.

“From what I heard, the woman asked for you, and then went into hysterics when she learned of your departure.”

“Why would she do that?” I asked, surprised. Nora was her daughter. I was just the friend.

Justine gave me a dry look. “Let’s see. Perhaps because her daughter ran off with a lunatic, soon to be followed by a young woman who was like another daughter. Rather unfortunate odds if you ask me.”

A lump formed in my throat. Had Lucy really thought of me so fondly? “Sophie is good to tend her.”

“She doesn’t mind. It’s part of her gift of hearth and home.” Justine smiled. “There’s no one in England more suited to comfort the weary of heart than my sister.” Her pride and love were evident in every word.

I understood from the bond I’d once shared with my one blooded sibling. Sean had been nearly five years my senior, and one month shy of his twentieth birthday when he fled to the West Indies after a serious falling-out with our father. I had not seen him again, nor would I in this world, as rumor had reached us of a drunken brawl that resulted in Sean’s death. The lump grew even bigger in my throat. I tried to swallow it away, along with the painful memories.

“Why didn’t Cate and Tom set out immediately after Deri?” I asked, as much from curiosity as to change the subject. “I expected them to be hard on her heels by now.”

Our heels
, I silently groused. My departure had only added to their need for haste, and made the delay all the more puzzling.

“Nothing of great concern,” Justine said. “Tom was held up unexpectedly when the Duke of Norland had him arrested. He’d just returned home to prepare for the journey when the guards arrived.”

My mouth fell open in shock. “Henry’s father? Why would he want to arrest Tom?”

“Something to do with his asking too many questions about the duke’s Irish ancestry.”

“You can’t just arrest someone for making inquiries. Not even the duke has that sort of power.”

Justine laughed, a melodic sound that reminded me of Cate. “I believe the official charge was theft or misrepresentation of some kind, as the duke claimed to have paid for a commission that was never delivered. But the truth of the matter is that Tom dug a little too close to a family secret for the duke’s comfort. Until he discovers whether the inquiries stemmed from curiosity or a keen understanding of Irish lore, the arrest serves to warn Tom to keep from further prying.”

I twisted in the saddle to get a better look at my aunt. To be sure, she showed less concern for her father’s arrest than most women would show for a pair of soiled slippers. And though I hated the idea of being pursued, and perhaps sent back to London, never in my wildest dreams did I wish such calamity to befall my great-grandfather.

“This is awful news. How can you be so calm?”

Her expression turned solemn. “Don’t worry, Selah. Cate is already working for his release. She prefers to use the proper channels, but if those fail, she will have him out by other means. The trick for now is getting the right wheels in motion without alerting the king to her interest in Tom. George Hanover has had designs on Cate ever since she became a widow, when the alleged Lord Dinley passed away. There’s no telling what he would do if he suspected a romantic attachment with a blacksmith.”

These last words offered little solace. “What if they hurt him? Or tried to make him disappear?” Tom wouldn’t be the first man roughed up or killed by guards while in the king’s custody.

Justine laughed again. “Believe me, your great-grandfather can hold his own against a dozen men or more. He only consented to be taken at the smithy to avoid a scene that would have ultimately forced him to move away from London. It’s happened before, and Cate was rather perturbed at the disruption to her charitable works.”

The bulk of my anger turned back to Henry’s father. “Richard Fitzalan is a ruthless blackguard who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. One must wonder what he fears from Tom to warrant such underhanded behavior.”

Justine didn’t answer at once, but stared straight ahead, her face clouded with thought. “Yes, one must indeed wonder,” she said at last.

The breeze gained a burst of strength. Glancing at the sky, I glimpsed the same thin clouds and willed them not to change until we reached Bristol. Even better, until we reached Wexford.

Movement caught my eye ahead as Julian readjusted his seat in the saddle. Exhausted, the man had barely been able to mount the horse of his own volition back at the inn. He now drooped over the beast, and as the sun dropped farther in the sky, I began to doubt he possessed the strength to continue much longer.

“You mentioned another solution to the altar at All Hallows,” I said, while studying Julian for any more signs of weakness. “Perhaps we should stop sooner if there’s any way for Lord Stroud to replenish his power.”

Justine withdrew a hand into the folds of her cloak. “I’ve something that will work, but it would be unwise to stop just yet.”

“But the man is about to fall from his horse.”

“Is that concern I hear for Lord Stroud?” She gave me a devious smile. “This mist has me chilled to the bone. I can only guess that it has cooled your temper as well.”

“Not at all,” I huffed. “I’m more concerned that he’s slowing us down.”

“The horses can’t move any faster with the state of the road. Lord Stroud is a strong man. He’ll make it to Bristol, and then we can cross to the Otherworld together.”

My hands tightened reflexively around the reins. “How is that possible? Do you know of another altar?” A sheath and necessary herbs were packed in my saddlebag for such an occasion, though at the time I had suspected they would go unused.

“Let’s just say that I borrowed something from Cate, and that she’s going to be madder than a banshee once the loss is discovered.”

Curiosity lifted my brows. “What is it?”

“This
something
serves as a pathway to Brigid’s nearest garden. At the moment, that’s probably the altar in London, and the last thing I want is to inadvertently stumble upon my mother. Then I would have to explain my decision to accompany you to Wexford instead of delivering you back home as instructed. Once we arrive in Bristol, we should be near enough to draw on another sidhe.”

She paused to further consider the notion. In ancient times the Tuatha Dé enchanted
sidhes
, or earthen mounds, to pass unhindered between our worlds. Now Brigid’s descendants used them to renew our power, but only if an altar had been established to grant us passage.

“I assume there’s one in Wales,” Justine continued. “Otherwise, Ireland has the strongest connection to the Otherworld, and there may be one near the eastern shore that can bring us over despite the greater distance.”

Should
and
may
...not the most reassuring words by any means. “What if none of those other options work, and we end up back in London anyway?”

Justine winked at me. “Then you best be ready to run if Cate is anywhere in sight. I’ve not seen her this perturbed since my brother Ronan caused a ruckus in Rome that put us all into hiding for a decade.” She tsked her tongue. “Your stealing Brigid’s knife just added more icing to the cake.”

“My knife,” I corrected her. “And I didn’t steal it. I took it back from her room while she was tending Lucy Goodwin.”

“Fair enough, though you’d better be ready to run all the same.”

She made it sound like a game, and I for one had no wish to play.

* * *

By the following evening, every muscle in my body cried in protest when we stopped to rest. Julian fell into a deep sleep seconds after his body found the ground. Curled into his great cloak, he appeared dead to the world. I watched him beneath partly closed eyes, surprised by the pity I felt. And grudgingly, a little respect. The man had proven stronger than I imagined, never once complaining or asking to stop. It almost made up for his previous behavior, though not quite, and I would still drop him like a rag doll at the mere suggestion of another attack. On further reflection, I considered doing it anyway as a sort of warning, and perhaps a little payback. Once he was fully recovered, of course.

Early the next morning, the first cottages came into view several miles before Bristol proper. A reluctant sun made traveling easier, though we now had to share the road with other folks, both on foot and in open carts. Sheep grazed in grassy fields, enclosed on all sides by hedges and rock walls to keep them from destroying the crops during the growing season. Dark clouds returned with the morning, pushed by winds from the south that foretold of another storm.

While still in the countryside, I’d fought a constant battle against exhaustion, even drifting off for a few minutes at a time before jerking awake. But once we neared the city, all tiredness was soon forgotten. Looking from left to right, and back again, my eyes jumped from one person to the next in search of a familiar face or feature.

At the main gate, a curious figure snagged my attention. An old man stood to the wayside, a deep amber cape clasped at the neck and open slightly to reveal black knee breeches and coat. Wild white hair of equal parts frizzle and curl practically burst out from beneath a wide-brimmed hat. A black patch covered one eye. He remained beside a wooden handcart piled with an assortment of glass bottles and tins, and watched the road as though waiting for someone. I stared at him, drawn by the sight, when his good eye shifted to mine. Smiling, he tilted his hat in greeting. Surprised by the familiarity, I nodded once, then quickly looked away.

The hustle and bustle of Bristol slowed our progress to a snail’s pace. As the second largest port in all of England, the town’s lanes overflowed with dockworkers and merchants engaged in all manner of business. Sailors milled about in front of public houses and taverns, still bleary-eyed and a little drunk from the night ashore. Maids and housewives navigated the crowds for the daily shopping. Near the river’s edge, less fortunate women worked half-bent over to scrape and gut fish for the markets.

Our party came to a sudden halt, blocked by a line of men and horses hauling wooden crates marked Tobacco from the docks to a large stone storehouse across the roadway. During the wait, I continued the search for anything familiar amongst a crowd that seemed intent on hiding beneath tricorn hats and hooded cloaks. The exercise proved a test of patience, and I had to bite my tongue to stop from calling out to Henry and Nora in case they were within the sound of my voice.