Resistance (17 page)

I can’t imagine parents wanting that kind of life for
their children. I can’t help but want to rescue this Winter
princess from the life she was unlucky enough to be born into. “The
poor girl... I think you’re right about one thing for sure — she
sounds like our best bet.”

He scowls, sighs and then says, “She’s your only bet.
The eldest girl is still pissed over her father having a son, the
middle child is schizoid, the youngest one is the perfect princess,
and her brother; he’s just an ass.”

“I wanted to mention to you that I don’t want my
brother knowing anything about this. Will that be a problem for
you? And do you have any idea how we're going to get in to get her?
It isn't like we can just knock on their front door,” I trail off,
disgusted with myself. I should have thought of that long before
now.

“I can live with that.” He pauses. “She sneaks out
every night.” He smirks, but it’s a cold look now and there is no
real mirth in his eyes. “Goes out and feeds some wild dog. Just
follow his tracks and you’ll find her."

I nod again, almost glad for his frosty veneer. It’s
easier to remember how dangerous he really is when he’s like this.
“I think we can work with that. Is there anything else you think
might be important that I should know?”

He is clearly mulling something over, but he shakes
his head instead. “No. I think we’ll be fine.”

I study his face intently for a moment, wondering
what he’s hiding. “As long as you’re sure. If you think of anything
else, you’ll let me know?”

“You bet.” He moves to stand, hesitates and leans
forward in his chair. “One thing you should know.” His warm gaze
hooks mine again. “
You
, Fianna Dolan, are the
first
person I have ever considered to be a
real
friend in over
three centuries. Don’t
ever
doubt that.”

I feel my mouth hanging open slightly and close it as
I look into his eyes, surprised to see that he truly means what
he’s saying. My mother’s voice wars with my father and grandmother
in my head. But who do I listen to? They’re all gone from me now,
so I have to figure things out for myself using what they taught
me. My dad always told me to trust my instincts, no matter
what.

“Fianna, lass — don’t over think things so. If a
person means you harm, you’ll know it. And if they are truly your
friend, you’ll feel it. Do not doubt your instincts, daughter, and
you’ll be fine.” I can hear him saying it over and over through the
years. How I wish I could lay all my worries at his feet and let
him make everything all right again in my world as he used to.
Sadly those days are over now.

I decide then that the time has come for me to take
the reins in my life. No more second guessing my instincts.
Besides, friendship is harmless, right? Even if this man seems to
inflict emotional whiplash on me on a regular basis without batting
an eye. I’m not really surprised when I hear myself say, “Thank
you, Flint. I would like it very much if we could be friends.” I
smile at him tentatively; scared but trying not to show it.

I meet his eyes as he studies my face and he manages
a small smile and says, “Good. Me too.” He stands and clears his
throat. “I’m gonna take a walk. You know where to find me if you
need anything.” I nod and he’s gone; leaving me feeling slightly
keyed up by our conversation and my decision.

I decide to stay in the office for the afternoon,
making plans and jotting down questions to ask Flint or Seamus in
the journal. For the first time in weeks, no one comes looking for
me to help them with anything. I am alone and it’s peaceful, and
I’m enjoying the serenity immensely. I hear the unmistakable sounds
of heavy feet on the staircase coming towards me and hold in a
groan, knowing who it is before the hulking form of my cousin
appears at the top of the stairs.

I hear him call my name and call out to him, “In
here, Sean.”

“What are you doing in there?” he asks before he’s
even in the door to the office. I sigh with annoyance.

“What do you need, Sean?” I ask instead of answering
his question.

He looks affronted but doesn’t comment for once. “I
just wanted to check in with you. I hadn’t seen you today.” I do my
best to hold back the scowl I can feel forming. I know he’s here to
check up on me because of Flint.

I keep my face blank. “I’m glad you’re here,
actually. Sit down — we need to go over the plan to kidnap the
Winter princess.”

This seems to appease him and he settles in the chair
Flint vacated; picking up a muffin from the basket. “I wasn’t aware
we had any sort of plan yet,” he says; taking a huge bite of the
muffin and chewing noisily.

I stifle the urge to tell him to mind his manners and
say, “Well I was talking with Flint earlier, and I think I have
things figured out now. I thought you’d like to come, too. If
you’re interested, that is.”

He polishes off his muffin and nods. “Of course I’m
coming, Fianna. Like I’d let you go off on your own.” I try not to
bristle at the implication that I can’t handle myself, but find
myself correcting him.

“I can handle myself, as you well know, Sean. And I
wouldn’t be on my own, anyway. Flint will be coming as well.”

Sean makes a strangled noise and I look up from my
notes to see his mouth working furiously. I hold my hand up before
he can say anything and tell him plainly, “I don’t want to hear it.
It will be the three of us going to get her. I’m trying to figure
out where to put her when we get her back here. If you have
anything to add to that discussion, I’d love to hear it.” I pause;
looking him in his eyes and trying to impart how serious I am about
what I’m about to say. “If you say one word about not trusting
Flint or not thinking he should come, I will smack you. Do you
understand me?”

He looks like he might be swallowing his tongue with
the effort to do as I’ve asked. Finally he nods at me and grabs the
last muffin out of the basket I brought up earlier. Twice he makes
a sound like he might say something, but I quell it with a look.
The third time he looks excited about something and says, “I know
where we can keep the Winter girl.”

I look up from the journal and raise my eyebrows to
him. “Oh? And where is that?”

He looks smug, which doesn’t bode well for Lumi. “We
can build an iron cage in the basement. I mean, think about it, Fi
— it’s the perfect solution.”

“Sean, be serious. We are not going to threaten her
into helping us! I meant what room here in the house should I get
ready for her! When did you become such a sadist?”

“Fianna, don’t be a fool. You’re going to trust a
faery you’ve never met to live here in this house with no
insurance? People aren’t going to be happy about that. You can’t
forget that you have to keep the community’s voice in mind now,
too.”

Damn him for sounding semi-reasonable. I have no
desire to put anyone in a cage of any type, and definitely not one
that could kill them slowly and painfully. “Damn it, Sean,” I say;
miserable about this idea but unable to deny his logic. “Is that
even something you’d be able to make?” I ask finally.

“I’ll talk to Seamus and we’ll get the materials
together. We’ll do it this weekend,” he says, and I feel dread
settle in my stomach. I can’t help but worry about what my new
friend will think of this plan.

I sigh resignedly. “Fine. This is only a precaution,
you hear me?”

“Of course,” Sean responds, but I can’t help but feel
like I just approved a plan to torture a girl who has never done
anything to me except being born Fae. I feel like I’ve changed in
ways that I won’t ever be able to fix. And I don’t like it.

Chapter 12— Flint

June 2102

I have to say I was having a peaceful night’s rest
when I was rudely awoken by a loud clang of metal on metal coming
from somewhere below me. Jerking upright, I take silent note of my
surroundings and feel confusion settle over me. I still appear to
be in the Dolan’s guest room, currently tangled in the sheets from
lashing out at whoever I thought was in the room with me, but the
harsh clattering of materials is still shaking the ground beneath
me. I scowl and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, reach for
the jeans I discarded carelessly the night before, and step out of
the room as I pull up the zipper.

“Beep, beep, beep!” Seamus’s youngest boy, Neall
yells as he barrels past me toward the basement stairs, holding a
long iron bar above his head. It bangs against the walls and I
nearly leap back into my room so I don’t get smacked with it;
trying to ignore the overpowering smell.

“The hell…?” I mumble to myself. I follow in the
young boy’s tracks slowly and nearly get trampled by an older teen
rushing up the steps. He murmurs a quick apology to me and
continues on his mission out the back door. I hear a curse fall out
of someone’s mouth from the bottom of the stairs and follow it;
having to grip the handrail when I reach the bottom steps so I
don’t fall over.

Sean takes one look in my direction and sneers. He
moves off the wall to kneel beside a huge plate of solid iron, and
I take a few deep breaths to fight the nausea off. “What the hell
are you doing?”

Sean turns his nose upwards and looks into the room I
can’t make it to. “Baking a cake,” he snipes and I roll my eyes. He
has the wit of a dead cat. He hooks his hands under the huge metal
piece and lifts it off the ground, and then throws a smirk over his
shoulder at me. I know the toxin weighs at least a hundred pounds,
but I continue to stare at him indifferently. He scoffs, disappears
around the corner and I hold my breath; taking the last few steps
to see what’s going on around the corner, in spite of my stomach
tying itself in knots over the smell.

The sight that greets me makes me want to vomit.
There is a small group of people, aged five to fifty, fussing over
a small construction project that looks like the beginning of a
cage. There is a solid floor made strictly of iron with a few bars
welded messily onto it, and Sean is crouched over inside of it,
holding the large plate over his head. Seamus’ youngest son, the
one who nearly impaled me on the upper level, is still holding a
bar; swinging it around wildly and making kung fu sounds.

“Neall!” Sean calls. “C’mere, buddy. Hold that sword
under that corner.”

“On it, Sean!” he cries, and rushes over to do as the
taller man said. I see a glimpse of humanity in the oaf as he
smiles and instructs the kid on how to properly help him, and I
shake myself. The iron must really be getting to me.

“Fi?” I call, and she looks away from Sean and Neall
when she hears her name. Her smile drops a little but she wanders
over to me anyway. “Hey Flint.”

“Hi,” I reply with the same tone she had — like I
couldn’t possibly be more annoyed to have to share the same air as
her yet again — and wave my hand towards the mess her family is
making. “What’s going on down here?”

She pushes her long braid of hair back behind her
shoulder and shakes her head. “Preparing for Lumi’s arrival.”

“By doing
what
?” I ask. “Building a panic
room?”

She shakes her head and furrows her brow for a
second. “No, we’re building her a cage. You look a little pale, are
you feeling okay?”

“It’s the iron,” I snap at her. “Why in the hell
would you need a
cage
for her?”

“It’s just a precaution, Flint,” she says in that
overly calm way of hers, and I know she’s getting annoyed already.
I brace my hand against the wall and pinch the bridge of my nose. I
think I’m going to be sick and I really don’t need her to know
that. “You realize the girl is like, tiny, right?” I ask. “This
is…overkill.”

“Well what shall we do, then?” she asks and crosses
her arms, and I know she doesn’t want an answer. “Allow her to roam
the house freely, like you?”

I shoot a hard glare at her for talking about me like
some wild animal and see her eyes get a bit wider as she realizes
the weight in those two added words. “I…I didn’t mean it like
that—”

“You might want to put a bed in there,” I cut her
off. My head is pounding as it is, and talking to her is making it
worse. “Iron burns right through clothes, and I
think
you
want to keep her breathing.”

She frowns and I turn and head back up the stairs as
Sean starts whining at her about a lunch break. It smells like
sawdust and coffee in the kitchen, and while I’d love to sit here
and revel in that, I really don’t want to hear Fi’s explanation for
her comments. As I head towards the back door to take a walk I
notice Eirnin sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over a coffee
mug and staring into it like someone killed his puppy.

Part of me thinks I should leave him to his thoughts
and go about my business, but I actually like the kid, and frankly,
my curiosity has always been stronger than my will. I release the
doorknob and move to the counter; poking his shoulder. “What’s
bothering you, kid?”