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Thorns puncture the narrative of poor impulsive Sion Loho who was never able to match all the artifacts to restore virtues. “Damn you. This history twisting has happened before, hasn’t it?”
He freezes, betraying nothing.
I grab handfuls of his jacket and shake. “It’s not the first time you’ve been chased or truths have been altered.”
He rips out of my grasp and slams a fist hard into the palm of his hand. “Of course not. Do you think me such a fool as to fail for two hundred years without opposition?”
Sion’s secrets crash into my gut. I double over, shawl slipping from my shoulders to puddle on the ground next to me.
Sion shows his teeth and snarls. “Enemies never look the same. We’ll go into the Veil and hunt the bastard down. This one will not bring me to my knees. With you at my side, we’ve the wits to undo it.”
The Veil walls thunder to the earth with a shuddering boom. When Sion reaches to pull me in with him, I squeeze my eyes and send the Veil off. I know I’ve succeeded from the string of curses he unleashes.
“Fuck’s sake, Eala. For once, quit playing the weakling and stand with me.”
“Stand by your omissions? Your manipulations.” I kick the shawl at him. “You expect me to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with you and fight a shadow?” I take two steps back to keep from slapping his face. When he tries to follow, I hold up a hand to stop him. “I’m done being dragged into God knows what.” I call the Veil. A fragile sheen rains around me. This time, Sion sends it off.
“Let me say my peace.”
“How can I believe a single word out of you?”
He steps away. “I’ve known you all your life, Eala. Watched you. Tried to speak to you through visions.” Sion bends his knees as if he’s ready to spring and then slaps a hand to his thigh. “I was convinced if I found a way to tap into your sight without calling you to my side, answers for each soul would be clear to me without you. I’d leave you be.” He steeples his hands, pressing them to his mouth. “More of my blind arrogance.”
My legs start to numb. “Visions?
“Shadow stories in your fireplace. Animals coming alive on the carousel. Colors of spring blossoming in snow and ice.”
It’s my turn to grab the lamppost for balance. He’s talking about my dream flashes like the one I had at the Central Park carousel right before I came to Ireland. The walls of the Veil so like the far edges of my visions. Sion used the Veil to control all those times when a gray world shifted into a riot of color behind my eyelids as vibrant as the page from a child’s storybook.
My lips move. Barely a whisper escapes. “Shadows in the fire?”
He nods. “Do you remember when you were a wee thing and the birds called you into the sky?”
I stare wide-eyed. How can he know about the day Máthair saved me from flying off the rooftop during the dream flash that incited my lifelong fear of heights?
He hangs his head. “’Twas reckless calling to you then, and I’m sorry for it.”
The explanation should register as ludicrous. A bird version of Sionnach Loho calling the child, Ella O’Dwyer, into the skies above Manhattan. But I’ve seen too much in the past few days to dismiss it.
I press fingers to my temples. “You’ve always been in my head?” Anger forms a knot behind my breastbone. I push off the post and shake my fist. “You almost killed me that day.”
His eyes dart back and forth. Damn him. He’s still editing what to say and what to keep from me.
“You weren’t ready to come to me then. She told me so, but I called you anyway.” He bounces in time with his agitation. “I do curse myself for making it so you can’t look down on the world without being overtaken by a fear that rips the heart of you clean out.”
She told me so.
She.
My breath catches in my throat. “Who? Who told you I wasn’t ready? And ready for what?”
His face contorts as secrets flutter beneath his skin like the swarm of moths around the light of the lamppost. “For this.” He sweeps a hand between us. “To fight for the souls.”
Fight, not save. It’s been a battle all along, not a safe and cozy mystery with a trail of quizzical clues. A battle that’s waited for me to join for how long—my whole life?
My voice is the edge of a knife. “Who told you I wasn’t ready?”
The alarm in his eyes is answer enough. Only one person in my life could tell this Veil guide, this version of a human being whether or not I was ready to stand by his side.
