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“But you did. You saw it and the child’s need for it.” Sion blows a puff of air that riffles his bangs. “It was so simple.”
“Simple?”
He touches a finger to my crinkled nose and smiles. “I miss things right in front of my nose.”
“How could that little girl have a tainted virtue to restore?”
His eyes rake the field of stars. “Children are the essence of purity.”
“Then why hadn’t she—” I spin my hands, searching for the right word.
“Passed on.” He lays one hand on the back of his neck, shielding it from the tickling curls. “Her death was an anomaly. It never should have happened. ‘Twas a fracture in time.” He levels his gaze at me. “The fear to pass on, a hiccup in a faith she wasn’t mature enough to fully embrace, tainted her purity and stuck her in the castle. Whatever she saw ahead was more than a wee lass could bear.”
I imagine Little Harriet skipping from room to room in Charleville Castle, her eternal playground. Familiar but empty. A place devoid of the comfort family and hugs provide. The internal prickles of heat I felt before reignite. Maybe these Veil Sprites in my body are personal truth detectors, signaling I’m on the right track.
“Hugging a doll can be a powerful comfort to a kid.” My eyes climb the tower to the high window. “There’s your simple. The doll she’d lost in the fall gave Harriett the courage to take the next step. She wasn’t alone.”
Sion’s voice is as gentle as two leaves rubbing in a night breeze. “Aye.” His seismic mood shift strikes again when he grabs both my hands. “You’re my perspective. After all the time I’ve been trying to free the souls, I can’t see simple anymore like you can.” He snorts. “As if I ever gave simple value in the first place.” He leans in and kisses my cheek. Warm, full lips chase the chill from my skin. “That’s why you’ve been sent to me. Ole Finnbheara don’t keep his arse on the throne for nothing.”
Tír na nÓg. Finnbheara. Sionnach Loho. Beltane. The Veil. Máthair’s stories aren’t so fanciful and far-fetched anymore.
“Eala, step lively.” Sion is halfway to the tower. “Up the stairs with you so you can hear Mrs. Kennedy’s story. She’s the next soul. It’s the virtue of mercy that’s gone amiss with the woman.” He gives a jaunty hop and twirl. “We’ve got a generous slice of time before dawn to find her artifact.”
Stairs? Shit! He expects me to climb to a chamber filled with unrelenting death and those horrible wails. My eyes lock on the window.
“I can’t go up there.”
Sion whirls around. “Don’t be daft. You’re not going to fall. We’ve got but four days until Beltane. No time to tarry.”
“Why Beltane?”
“I’m given from the equinox until the fire festival when the year passes from dark to light to free the souls.”
The year. He’s referring to the Celtic year. In the moonlight, I see a ruddy flush cross his cheeks as I stand my ground.
He flings an arm at the tower. “You’ve got to hear them speak their peace to figure out the artifact we need to restore their lost virtue, the keys to their redemption.”
I cross my arms to hide my shaking. “You go listen, and then tell me what they say.”
He stomps a mushy mud clod, splattering droplets of mud on his jeans. I steel myself for a class-A Sion Loho rant. Instead of anger, desperation hardens the angles of his jaw. “Do you not see? That’s why you’ve come. I’ve listened to their stories over and over again and failed. Fate only gives a feller so many chances, and I’m on my last one. Take a risk, Eala. For the souls not yourself. Let their stories tell you what I can’t hear.”
I want to help. Even though I only comprehend a tiny fraction of what he’s telling me, I believe something essential is going on here. Hollowness begins to spread through my chest. He may be pursuing the wrong person for help.
What if there are windows or arrow loops on the stairs? I’ll be able to see as the ground falls farther and farther below me. A wave of dizziness hits hard, and I close my eyes to keep the world from spinning. In less than ten steps, I’ll crumble into a ball. I whisper, “If climbing a tower is what I have to do, then you’re mistaken. I’m not the partner you need.”
Sion grips my shoulders. I’m surprised how fast it steadies me, and I open my eyes. Moonlight turns his eyelashes the color of an orange tabby cat.
His voice reflects the anguish on his face. “All I’m asking is for you to take a single step with me. If you can bear that one, then take another.”
It hits me I’ve been reading his judgmental attitude toward me all wrong. His grit and growl are not entirely a reaction to my deficiencies. It’s fear for the fate of these souls.
I lay a hand on one of his. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never make it to the top.” Now it’s me who can’t look him in the eye. “I’ll wait for you here, then you can tell me exactly what Mrs. Kennedy says.”
Sion sputters and paces, intermittently shooting me looks ranging from frustration to rage to despair. Finally, he turns his back on me and disappears into the door-shaped shadow at the bottom of the tower.
Chapter 10
The Bargain
