The Stolen: An American Faerie Tale Page 4

Brendan sprinted down the street to his truck. As he opened the door, Riley came running around a different corner. The elf stopped when he saw Brendan.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Riley asked. “I thought—­”

  “Plan’s changed, boss,” Brendan said as he climbed in and started the engine. “The fecking oíche made a move we weren’t expecting.”

  “Brendan, wait, what are you—­?”

  The old truck bounced over the curb and sped off. Thankfully, the streets were nearly empty. It was late enough to avoid ­people heading out for the evening and early enough to avoid them going home, and thanks to Riley, there wouldn’t be a copper for miles. Brendan rolled down the window where he’d seen Caitlin last. He focused for a moment, then his senses came to life and he sniffed the air.

  Nothing.

  “Dar fia!”

  He began to fear he’d truly lost her trail, when, beneath a mix of exhaust, damp asphalt, and cooking food, he found her scent. It was faint, but it was there, and it was Áine’s.

  The truck came to a stop in the middle of the road as his breath caught in his throat. He inhaled again, desperate for more, but the scent was gone.

  Then he realized what he was doing. Cursing his stupidity and the delay it was causing, he leapt out and redoubled his focus as he turned in all directions. After a few seconds, he found Caitlin’s scent again, and while it was so very close to Áine’s, it had more powder and flowers to it. It was not Áine’s. He reminded himself of that repeatedly as he got back in the truck and sped off.

  He tore around corners and through the vacant streets. Soon the city shifted from businesses to houses, and Caitlin’s scent was diluted amid the smells of a thousand homes. He stopped the truck, clenched his shaking hands into fists, and closed his eyes. The garbage left out for pickup in the morning wasn’t helping.

  A breeze blew in the open window from the south, bearing the faintest hint of her. His eyes opened, and he turned his truck in that direction. The streets all began to look the same, and her scent again became more sporadic.

  “Go hifreann leat. You won’t win this time.” He spotted her car in his peripheral vision and sped down the street.

  The car was parked in the driveway of a modest home, driver’s side door still open, as was the front door to the house.

  He parked behind the car, shut off his truck’s motor, and opened the door with one hand as he grabbed a knife with his other. As he passed her car, he closed the open door and looked around.

  Nothing was moving; no birds, no insects, nothing. He hated the suburbs.

  He crept to the open front door. Caitlin’s scent poured through it and into the night air. He took a deep breath and moved closer. As he did, he smelled it. Just beneath Caitlin’s was the scent of the fae. It was strong, which meant they’d just left or were still here. The combination of familiar smells stirred the sleeping monster inside him, but he pushed the beast back down.

  He stepped to one side of the doorway and turned his head so one ear was angled in. He heard a slow, steady heartbeat just inside. At the sound of the soft, even breathing, his heart sank.

  Knife at the ready, he scanned the room. Several crayon drawings hung on the fridge door in the kitchen to his right. A living room with children’s toys scattered about was to the left. The couch, chair, tables, and large wooden television stand showed no signs of struggle.

  On the far side of the room lay a woman with brown hair, facedown. She was the source of the breathing and heartbeat, but she wasn’t who he was looking for. He rolled her over. She was a young girl, and pretty.

  “Fecking slumber,” he muttered. He saw the stairs and could hear another heartbeat and slow breathing. He took them two at time without making a sound.

  Upon reaching the second floor, he found to his right an open door leading to the bathroom. To the left, the hallway vanished around a corner. Halfway down was a second open door.

  You’re too late. The oíche are long gone, else they’d have been on you before this.

  “Shut it, you.” He tucked the knife behind his back.

  It was a child’s room with soft pink walls and white furniture. Stuffed animals were everywhere. When he saw the stump of wood tucked under a blanket on the bed, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay calm. At his feet lay Caitlin, one arm outstretched.

  He sighed and put the events together as he rolled Caitlin onto her back. “I tried to warn you, didn’t I?”

  Well, doesn’t this all seem familiar—­?

  “Come on, then.” He carried her down the stairs to the living room. There, he laid her on the couch and put a pillow under her head, then set the other girl in the chair.

  Running a hand through his hair, he paced and considered his options. There weren’t many, and those weren’t appealing. He was too far outside Boston to know anyone he could ask for help, and that meant—­

  His head jerked around as he heard a car racing down the road. He peeked out the door. The car was heading this way, fast. The headlights prevented him from seeing the driver.

  “Damnú air!” He went into the kitchen, found a shadow, and ducked out of sight.

  Tires screeched as the car came to a stop. A door opened and slammed closed, then someone ran up to the house.

  Brendan drew the knife out, slowed his breathing, and readied himself.

  A tall, thin man, who couldn’t be much into his thirties, stepped inside. He was well dressed, with tousled brown hair, an immaculately trimmed goatee, and wire frame glasses.

  “Oh my—­Caitlin?” He knelt beside the couch, shook her, and touched her face. “Wake up. It’s Edward.” He slapped her face gently, then shook her again.

  Brendan studied Edward, then glanced around the room at the pictures. They were all of a little girl, or Caitlin and the child together. Ignoring the stabbing pain in his heart, he turned his focus back to Edward. Whoever he was, he wasn’t important enough to be in any of the photos.

  Edward passed a hand over Caitlin’s face and muttered something.

  Brendan’s eyes went wide as he smelled magic. While Edward focused, Brendan moved silently.

  “Who did this to you?” Edward wondered aloud, and ended the spell.

  “Faeries,” Brendan answered from right behind him. “Oíche-­sidhe, if you’re wanting to be exact about it.”

  Edward jumped and spun around at the same time, or he tried to. His knee caught the couch, and he fell backwards. His shoulder slammed against the coffee table and his head hit the couch, bouncing him back. He settled on the floor, looking up at Brendan with huge eyes, glasses askew.

  “Graceful that was,” Brendan said. “But there’s something I don’t understand here, boss.”

  Edward began inching away on his backside. “Who, who are you?”

  Brendan ignored the ammonia-­like smell of fear that was filling the room. “How is it you didn’t sense the fae slumber right away?”

  “What did you do to them?” Edward’s face hardened. He moved to his knees and drew a hand back.

  “It weren’t me, you gobdaw. Now, answer the bleeding question. What kind of fecking wizard doesn’t recognize a fae sleep?”

  “What?” Edward blinked at him. “How did you—­”

  “I’m not asking again, who the bloody hell are you?”

  Edward gnashed his teeth. “Tân!” A small ball of flame appeared in his shaking palm. “No,” he said. “Who are you?”

  Brendan couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’d best be putting that out, boyo, unless of course you mean to be burning the place down.” He stared hard into Edward’s eyes.

  Edward flinched and the flame snuffed out. “Crud.”

  Brendan sheathed his knife, grabbed Edward by his shirt, and lifted him clear off the ground. “I didn’t do this. Would I just be sitting here having me a cup of tea if I ha
d?” He pulled Edward close. “Now, answer me question. Who are you?”

  “I, I’m a friend of Caitlin’s.” Edward nodded to the couch. “I’m a doctor. I work at the hospital with her.”

  “And what are you doing here?”

  “She’d told me she was having night terrors. I placed a protection spell on her earlier tonight, just to be safe. I came over when it was triggered.”

  Brendan studied Edward for a moment, then set him down.

  Edward straightened his glasses and looked down at Caitlin. “So, who did this?”

  Brendan rolled his eyes. “I told you already, didn’t I? It were oíche-­sidhe.”

  Edward’s eyes went wide, and for a moment he stopped breathing. “They took Fiona, didn’t they?”

  Brendan muttered something under his breath. “Aye, they got Caitlin’s purse—­”

  “Her purse?”

  “She likely had something of herself in it.”

  Edward just stared.

  “To get past the hearth protections?” Brendan said.

  Another blank stare.

  “Bloody hell, what kind of wizard are you?” Brendan asked. “You don’t know a fae slumber, you don’t know the oíche, and you don’t know the hearth protections. What is it you do know, then?”

  “Is, is that really relevant right now?” Edward stammered as he looked away.

  “Aye, a bit, don’t you think?” Brendan took a step forward, forcing Edward to take one back. “Where’d you learn your craft, then? A fecking mail-­in course? Or did an uncle leave you his magic books?”

  Edward blanched and looked away.

  “Ah, bloody hell. That’s it, isn’t it?” Brendan laughed. “Jesus, man. What’re you thinking, getting into this business?”

  “It was my Taid, I mean, grandfather,” Edward said. “Besides, I wasn’t even sure there were other—­” He waved his hand. “Others like me.”

  Brendan nodded. “Oh, well, that makes all the difference, then.”

  “Is the sarcasm really necessary?”

  “You needn’t worry, amateur night is over.” Brendan moved toward Caitlin. “Stand aside, bucko.”

  Edward put his hand out to push Brendan away, but Brendan caught his hand and twisted it around. Edward fell to his knees with a cry, and Brendan held him there, on the edge of breaking his arm.

  “I’m getting these two out of this house before the dark faeries what made off with the child decide to come back and collect them as well.” He pushed Edward face-­first onto the floor. “I suggest you get your arse out of here as well.” He picked up Caitlin. “Or don’t. It don’t bother me a whit, either way.”

  “Wait,” Edward said from the floor. “Please, I can help!”

  Brendan closed his eyes and sighed. “I’ve got no time for someone stumbling about. This is a dangerous business, and if I’m to get the girseach back from those dark bastards, I can’t be spending time handholding the likes of you.”

  “But—­”

  “Look, I can see she’s a friend, and I respect your wanting to help—­”

  “We can take them to my place, they’ll be safe there.”

  Brendan looked away and drew in a long breath.

  “I have wards around my house.” Edward waited for Brendan to look back at him. “Those I can do very well.”

  Brendan sighed. What else was he going to do? Leaving them in a dell somewhere wouldn’t work. The oíche weren’t the most nature-­bound fae, but plenty of the Rogue Court fae were, and some of them were friendly to the oíche.

  “Please, I really can help.”

  Brendan looked him in the eye again.

  Edward gritted his teeth, but he didn’t flinch.

  “How far is it, then?”

  “Not far.” Edward got to his feet. “It’s just outside of town. We can be there in twenty minutes.”

  “All right, then.”

  “I’m Edward, Edward Huntington,” he said, offering his hand.

  Brendan looked down at Caitlin’s limp form in his arms and raised an eyebrow. “You think maybe we should hold off on all the pleasantries till we get them out of here?”

  Edward lowered his hand.

  Brendan nodded at the dark-­haired girl. “Get that one and put her in your car. I’ll follow you with this one.”

  Edward nodded and went over to Kris, who was still sleeping.

  Brendan looked outside. No neighbors were nosing about, so he carried Caitlin to his truck and secured her in the passenger seat. When he finished, he saw Edward carrying the other girl. His face was red and he was sucking in sharp, short breaths.

  “What’ve I gotten meself into?” Brendan watched Edward struggle. “A wizard what’s useless as a chocolate teapot and as strong as a nine-­year-­old girl.” He opened the passenger door of the black luxury sedan parked in the street, then took Kris from Edward’s arms and buckled her in the front seat.

  “All right, then,” Brendan said. “You’re leading the way. If you get stopped, just tell the coppers you’re taking her home after a few too many down at the pub.”

  “I’m sorry, did you say ‘coppers’?”

  “Aye, the fecking constables, man.”

  Edward opened his mouth.

  “The police?”

  “No, I got that, I just—­”

  Brendan swore under his breath and started walking back to his truck.

  “Wait. Can I at least know your name?”

  Brendan eyed him.

  After a moment, Edward winced. “Right. Wizards, names, all that. Sorry.”

  As Edward walked around the car, Brendan let out a deep sigh. “So, not completely clueless, then?” Edward stopped, and Brendan held out his hand. “Brendan Kavanaugh.”

  “Thank you, Brendan.” Edward smiled as he shook Brendan’s hand.

  After a few seconds, Brendan looked down. “Are we done holding hands?”

  Edward winced again and let go. He muttered something as he got into his car.

  Brendan shook his head as he walked to his truck. “Let’s just hope Merlin doesn’t get lost on his way home.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Memories threatened to consume Brendan, but he pushed them aside again as he followed Edward. He instead tried to convince himself that the mounting similarities in this mess were just coincidences and didn’t mean anything.

  It is uncanny, isn’t it?

  Brendan focused on the road, and soon the streets of identical homes turned into a wooded country back road. He kept an ear on Caitlin’s breathing and heartbeat. He even glanced over a few times, but he never allowed his gaze to linger.

  Edward’s car pulled into a driveway, and Brendan parked behind him. The neighborhood was the old New England style, big colonial homes, large lots, and plenty of trees.

  Keeping a watchful eye on the trees and shadows, Brendan got out and opened the passenger door. Another quick glance, this time at the neighbors, told him that even if someone was watching, they wouldn’t be able to see anything. He sniffed the air, but the only faeries he smelled were on Caitlin.

  As he lifted her, her head fell against his chest and unruly red hair brushed his chin. His knees threatened to buckle. Instead, he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath.

  “Leave her for now, boss,” Brendan said as he walked past Edward, who was retrieving the other girl. “Just get the door. I’ll come back for her once we get this one safe inside.”

  Symbols of warding were carved into the wood frame of the house, and a hint of magic was in the air. They were good wards. Brendan hadn’t sensed them until he was almost on top of them. Odds were, most ­people would never see them at all, even if they looked for them.

  Edward reached the front door, but instead of putting his key in it, he passed his hand over the knob and spoke some
thing. The door opened and the symbols vanished from sight.

  Brendan nodded as he walked past. “Not bad there.”

  “Thanks.” Edward flipped a switch on the wall and the room lit to show an entryway and living room decorated in dark brown leathers and rich hardwoods. It could’ve been something out of an Old English gentleman’s club. “You can set her on the couch.” He pointed to the large overstuffed sofa.

  Brendan placed a pillow behind Caitlin’s head and gingerly brushed hair from her face.

  Edward cleared his throat. “Kris is, uh, still in my car.”

  Brendan winced and stood quickly.

  Edward eyed him as he walked by. Brendan could feel it. He returned with the other girl, and Edward motioned to a love seat as he laid a blanket over Caitlin. “Over here.”

  Although the girl wasn’t tall, her legs still reached past the armrest. Taking a cue from Edward, Brendan found another blanket and draped it over her.

  “So, what do we do now?” Edward sat on the arm of the sofa, putting himself between Brendan and Caitlin.

  Brendan looked Edward up and down, then in the eye.

  “What?” Edward leaned back as his eyes twitched.

  “You’re staying here and watching over them,” Brendan said. “Keep your wards up and going till I come back. The oíche might’ve tracked us here.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Brendan let out a long sigh. He’d been trying to put off the inevitable, but it wouldn’t be ignored any longer. He wasn’t going to find any useful information without an older friend’s help. “Well, I’m off to have a bit of a chat with someone who might know about where the oíche took the girl.” He turned and made for the door. Maybe there was another option though.

  “Wait a second.” Edward stepped in Brendan’s path.

  “We going to do this dance again, then, are we?”

  “Would you please tell me what’s going on here?”

  “You’re dense as a block of Connemara marble. I told you already, didn’t I? Faer—­”

  “Yes, I heard you the other eight times. Faeries accosted Caitlin, then used her purse or something in it to get past some kind of protection and kidnap Fiona. But why would faeries take her?”