Dark Vision (14 page)

A glass of wine was suddenly sounding like a very good idea.

The next morning, I found Fionnula already up and about in the kitchen. She’d lost the skinny-jeans-hot-mama ensemble in favour of a sequinned tank top and a black lycra miniskirt that barely covered her backside. It was the kind of look that embarrassing aunties go for at weddings, but I wasn’t stupid enough to say anything along those lines. I wasn’t too sure about Carmel, though, who staggered into the room stretching her arms and shaking her crazy black hair.

She sat down at the kitchen counter, swinging her legs from the stool, watching as Fionnula popped the toaster and flicked on the kettle.

‘Top o’ the morning to you,’ she said, in her best
Father Ted
mock-Irish voice. I cringed, and concentrated on buttering the toast Fionnula passed to me. Forget the end of the world – I was in the middle of Armageddon already.

Fionnula sat down opposite Carmel, pointing a butter-slathered knife in her direction. She blinked very slowly, which had the usual effect of making me listen even harder than normal.

‘It’d be best if you lost a bit of that attitude,
Champion
,’ she said, her voice gentle and soft, a mocking emphasis on the last word.

‘Why?’ said Carmel, crunching a slice of toast she’d lifted from my plate. ‘Will you turn me into a toad if I don’t?’

I barely saw Fionnula’s fingers move, but I heard the lyrical flow of Gaelic beneath her breath, felt a stirring of magic in the room. A few strands of my hair lifted into the air, as though they were responding to the static of a balloon.

Immediately, Carmel started to choke, spluttering and coughing as the food became lodged in her throat. She clasped her hands to her neck, gurgling as she tried to gulp in air. I jumped up and whacked her on the back, hard, and a half-chewed piece of toast came flying out of her mouth, landing in a soggy clump on the counter top. Very ladylike.

She dragged in oxygen, glared at Fionnula suspiciously, her whisky-coloured eyes narrowed to slits.

‘Was that you?’ she asked, once she could talk again. ‘Did you do that?’

‘Might have done,’ replied Fionnula nonchalantly. ‘But you’ll never know, will you? Just watch that mouth of yours. I’m not a patient woman, and while you’re in my home, you’ll show me some respect.’

The two of them indulged in a spot more glaring, and then Fionnula stood up and walked over to the kettle, which had now boiled.

‘Now, can I tempt ye with a nice cup of tea?’ she asked, in a crazed parody of every fictional Irish woman I’d ever seen.

‘Yes,’ croaked Carmel, still holding her throat. ‘Please.’

We finished our breakfast in a decidedly uncompanionable silence, until Carmel’s quiet allergy kicked in. She sees it as one of her life goals to let no moment of peace go uninterrupted.

‘So, what, are you like Lily’s Mr Miyagi?’ she asked warily, breaking the silence and earning a blank stare from Fionnula. ‘You know? Wax on, wax off?’

It was obviously a pop culture reference too far for my new teacher. I don’t know what Fionnula the Fair got up to in the mid-Eighties, but sitting in the cinema watching
The Karate Kid
clearly wasn’t it. Carmel is a couple of years older than me, and I am a retro chick who doesn’t like much company apart from hers – we’ve spent hours sitting in darkened rooms eating popcorn and watching Eighties classics. Perhaps we could open a magical branch of our private Movie Club to bring ageing witches up to date?

‘She means,’ I said, ‘are you going to teach me stuff? Be, I don’t know, my spiritual mentor, or whatever? That was the impression I got from Donn, but I didn’t really understand what he was talking about.’

‘Oh, I know, that drives me mad as well,’ said Fionnula. ‘He’s all dark and mysterious, isn’t he? He only does it to hide the fact that he spouts crap, half the time …’

I couldn’t keep the surprise from my face, and Carmel cracked up into laughter. I wasn’t sure where Fionnula’s place in the pantheon of Otherworldy types was, but she didn’t seem scared of any of them. Or even vaguely impressed. Which was good, I decided – I wouldn’t want to be getting my Goddess life lessons from a wuss, after all.

‘But in answer to your questions, yes. I will be “teaching you stuff”. That’s my role, always has been. You’d be amazed how many times some wannabe god needs etiquette lessons, or a High-King-in-waiting deserves a slap round the ear.’

She grinned at me, and I suspected I knew who that High King was. The thought was tremendously entertaining, and even overshadowed the pang of grief I felt when I heard his name echo around my mind.

‘Everyone’s young once,’ she said. ‘And everyone needs to learn. You will learn too, Lily – albeit a little later than usual. That’ll make it harder, of course. Children’s brains are more open, more accepting. You’ll fight it all the way: you’ve had too many years in a rational human world. Mind like a steel trap, closed off to potential and truth; cement where your imagination should be.’

I stiffened a little, feeling bizarrely offended. Nobody had ever accused me of having a cement brain before, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. And as for imagination, I’ve never really needed it – my real life has been wacky enough.

‘She’s done all right so far, witchy bitch,’ said Carmel, standing to her less than impressive five foot four. ‘She’s had more weirdness thrown at her in the last few days than most people get in a lifetime, and coped with it all. So maybe you should show a bit of respect as well.’

Fionnula blinked like a sleepy iguana, and I held my breath. Here it comes, I thought: fireballs, thunder, Carmel turned into a piglet and stuck in a roasting pot for supper.

Instead, Fionnula laughed, the sound like glass bluebells tinkling in the breeze.

‘Well said, Champion. Now go and make yourself scarce, so I can get on with being this Mr Miyagi you speak of. There are books in your bedroom, woods to walk in, and I have a pretty good Wi-Fi connection too.’

Carmel looked at me for a decision, and I nodded.

‘Go,’ I said. ‘While you can still walk upright and don’t have a curly tail.’

Grabbing an extra slice of toast, she sauntered out of the room. Heading, I guessed, for the Wi-Fi. Walks in the woods aren’t really her thing.

‘Now,’ said Fionnula, gesturing for me to join her on the sofa. ‘Down to business. First of all, do you remember me?’

I sat, sinking into soft leather upholstery, and tried to recall where I knew her face from. Drawing a blank, I shook my head.

‘I was at the funeral. Your parents’ funeral,’ she said. ‘Which was very naughty of me, really. But I hoped you’d end up here one day, and wanted to see you for myself. The bossy boots in charge wasn’t too happy with me, but I didn’t care. I could tell, Lily, straight away, that you were special. With your funny little ginger plaits, scaring people off with your eyes. You probably think Coleen and your visions were responsible for making you different, but that’s not true. You would always have been different. There would always have been a distance between you and the normal world you inhabit.’

‘Maybe,’ I replied. ‘But I’m pretty certain Coleen and the visions didn’t help. Why weren’t you supposed to be there, anyway?’

‘Because I’m neutral,’ she replied. ‘My job is to teach, not to influence. And I only do that on request. It’s the only reason they allow me the life I have, independent and away from them and their politics. You wouldn’t believe how much they argue. It gets tiresome after the first century or so.’

I could only imagine. I’d found it tiresome after the first day.

‘OK,’ I said, ‘you’re Switzerland, then? You don’t prefer one over the other?’

‘“Prefer” isn’t the right word, Lily. Some High Kings are easier to like than others, and I will always have my affections. But my role is to teach you – about your history, about your powers, about the decision you will face on the night of Samhain. I’m sure you must have questions about it all; I imagine Cormac was too busy being Mor to explain it properly to you, and you haven’t even met Fintan, have you?’

Fintan. The leader of the Fintna Faidh. My nemesis, or my liberator, depending on how you viewed it. I hadn’t met him as such, but I was starting to have the suspicion that I’d at least seen him – the shadowed man on the hill in Tir na nOg. The man who’d been leaping in and out of my head like a pop-up ad ever since.

‘No, I haven’t met him,’ I replied, which strictly speaking was true. Fionnula lifted one über-plucked eyebrow at me, and I knew she had her suspicions. She was a teacher, for God’s sake – they always had their bullshit antenna switched on.

‘We all have our secrets, Lily,’ she said, letting it drop. ‘Just make sure you don’t keep them for too long. Now – before we start – any questions?’

About a million, I thought, as a jumble of queries scrambled for prominence in my brain.

‘Samhain,’ I said, deciding on one. ‘What happens? When Gabriel says I have to become his mate, to bless the human world with bounty, et cetera, what does he mean? Will I have to – you know – do it then?’

I blushed as I spoke, and realised my fingers were making vaguely obscene gestures to illustrate the point.

‘Ah. Focusing on the practicalities. I like that in a woman. What you mean is, will you need to have sex with him?’

‘Yes!’ I muttered, fearing my complexion would never recover. I’d live the rest of my days with the face of a lobster. God, this was excruciating.

‘There’s no need for embarrassment, Lily. Sex is a natural part of life. There’s not man or beast I haven’t witnessed rutting at some point in the past.’

She paused, as if allowing me to savour that particular image would make me feel more comfortable.

‘But to answer the question, no, you don’t need to seal the deal, as it were, that night, as long as you accept him in principle. There’ll be a ceremony at Tara, in County Meath, and you’ll be asked if you are willing to take him as your mate. If you do, that will be taken as your consent. If you don’t …’

‘What? What if I don’t? Donn said something about being forced to accept my role, like in his father’s time. What does that mean?’

Her face darkened, and her lips curled downwards in a vicious sneer.

‘The attitude of the Tuatha de Danaan is not always what you might call enlightened, Lily. Donn would have Gabriel take you, any way he needs, to achieve his goal. In the way that ruthless men have taken women since time began. Do I need to draw you pictures?’

‘No …’ I murmured, feeling a strange mix of fear and anger flow through me. ‘I understand. But that’s not going to happen. I won’t let that happen. And Gabriel … he wouldn’t.’

‘Perhaps you’re right, my dear. Gabriel was always a sweet child. But he is the High King, and he is ruthless. They all are. He has already made choices on your behalf that a mortal man would not be proud of. How far he will go in his defence of this realm, I do not know.’

I thought of Coleen, of the way he’d bundled me off to her and left me in her cold hands as soon as my parents were dead in the ground. I couldn’t deny it. He was ruthless. But I still couldn’t believe that he would go that far. I refused to believe it.

‘No,’ I said again, more firmly. ‘That will not happen.’

‘All right, child. Leave that thought alone for now. Tuck it away and forget about it a while. You have a lot to learn, and mere days in which to learn it. You are the exception to all our rules. You’ve grown up in the wild human world, and I for one have no idea what you are capable of. Take my hands, and I will show you some of what you need to know.’

I hesitated, my fingers instinctively curling away from her. Fionnula didn’t look worried, but I was. After a lifetime of avoiding my Grim Reaper visions, opening myself up to them wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.

‘Don’t be scared,’ she said, holding out her hands. ‘You won’t see my future. I won’t allow it. This can all be controlled, and I will teach you how. For now, take my hands, and I will show you my past. It will be all right, Lily.’

Fingers trembling like I had the shakes, I let her take my hands into hers, and steeled myself to see her racked with pain, or pumping blood from an arterial vein.

Instead, I saw her … younger. Astonishingly beautiful, her bold blue eyes shining out across luscious hills and valleys. Dressed in long grey layers, hair in braids along the sides of her face. A darker shade of blonde, so this was clearly the pre-Loreal era. There was a man. Dark hair, handsome, muscular arms peeking out from a leather vest.

‘Is this the Otherworld?’ I asked, eyes closed.

‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s here. Ireland. A very long time ago.’

The man walked towards her, and she ran into his arms. He picked her up by the waist, twirled her around, her bluebell laughter making him smile. He leaned down to kiss her, a kiss full of fire and passion. Even looking at it made me sigh.

There was a shimmer, a hazy background flicker, like moving from one dreamscape to another. The man again. Older now. Hair grey, body slow-moving, joints gnarled with arthritis. Fionnula, still young and beautiful, crying as she stroked his forehead. He was dying, and there was nothing she could do to save him. It was breaking her heart.

I snatched my hands away as I felt her pain cross over into me, become my pain. The fierce swell of it had threatened to break my heart as well.

‘You said it would be all right!’ I shouted, rubbing my fingers like they’d been scalded. ‘That most definitely wasn’t all right!’

‘Yes, it was, child,’ she replied, blinking tears from her eyes. ‘That was humanity. That was love, and the pain that flows from it. The way I felt, when Brannigan kissed me? The way I felt as he lay dying? That is what Cormac fights for.’

‘Then it’s not worth the effort!’ I said. ‘It’s too … raw. If that’s humanity, I don’t want it. Maybe they’re right, the Faidh … maybe they’re right to want to end it all!’

‘Maybe they are, Lily. And only you can decide that. You’ve been to the Otherworld, haven’t you?’

‘Yes,’ I replied, feeling a yearning to return, to be safe with my parents, to meet my sisters and Lucy, who’d died instead of me. To be away from all this confusion and hurt and second-hand agony.