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My heart felt like it stopped beating as I stared at his glowing eyes. I’d hoped the last time was a one off-occurrence. Clearly, we weren’t that lucky.
Snapping out of it, I raced across the bedroom and dropped down beside him.
“Conor?” I called, my voice breaking.
He didn’t stir, but his eyes remained open, glowing brilliantly as he stared at the roof of his bedroom. Reaching tentatively for his shoulder, I tried to shake him but he wouldn’t answer me.
I placed a hand on his chest and my cheek next to his lips. A sigh of relief escaped as I felt his warm breath against my cheek. My heart beat faster and faster in my chest as I shook him.
“Conor, it’s Mum, baby, wake up.”
Still nothing. Should I call Alasdair to ask for his opinion? This didn’t really feel like the sort of thing you called triple zero for.
I shook him harder, pleading with him to wake up.
A weak groan escaped his lips. The sapphire glow faded until his eyes were their normal blue once more.
“Mum?”
“It’s me, Conor. I’m here,” I said. “Are you okay?”
He looked around the room, seemingly surprised that he was on the floor. “I was having the strangest dream.”
I pulled him tight against me. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen his eyes turn that color. It had happened once before. I’d hoped it would stop, but now I needed to know what was happening to my boy.
Was this a result of my father’s bloodline? Shay had never manifested any powers whatsoever, which had caused me great relief as a young mom.
Conor, on the other hand, seemed to have a far stronger Sidhe bloodline. He’d done something during the battle with the Red Cap that I still didn’t understand. He had spoken with a voice like thunder and it had frozen the murderous Sidhe in his tracks, at least for a few moments.
I had asked him about it, but explaining things wasn’t his talent. In his usual manner, Conor had said he’d just told the creature to stop. I feared he didn’t even know what he was doing. His magic was manifesting in answer to his will, but he wasn’t exercising any real control or direction over it.
The thought filled me with dread. I didn’t know how to raise a child with powers. I had no experience to draw on. My mother had opted for the approach of ignoring mine, refusing to cultivate them lest our identities be revealed.
I had no intention of lying to Conor, but I also had no idea what I was meant to do to help him. He was too innocent to understand the implications of what he was capable of, and therein lay considerable danger for all of us.
What would happen if my sweet boy lost his temper?
I’d scoured the Otherworld journal, but it had nothing about raising a potential scion in it. Whoever had written it was clearly human, and well-acquainted as they might be with the Sidhe, parenting hadn’t been an area of focus for their research.
What was I supposed to do?
I clutched Conor close to my chest. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
He nodded. “I saw a beach, Mum. White sand and blue water, lots of fish. It was very pretty.”
“I’m sure it was, baby. I’m just glad you’re okay. Do you see these dreams often?” I felt like a horrible parent not knowing the extent of what was going on in my son’s life.
“Only when I dream,” he replied, pointing to the artwork stuck to the walls of his bedroom. “I see lots of things.”
I looked around the room and my panic mounted. These scenes that I had always assumed were from his video games or the product of his excited imagination were actually the result of his dreams.
Not dreams. If his magic was involved, he could be seeing anything, perhaps even occurrences from beyond the Veil.
The walls of his bedroom were covered by sketches of creatures. The closer I looked, the more I recognized them as the inhabitants of Faerie. There was a dragon, fighting an ice troll. A picture of three large goat-like creatures. And above his bed, a picture of a massive citadel on a mountain top.
He’d drawn that one a few weeks ago, the day I’d met Alasdair.
Now that I thought about it, Mom seemed to have recognized the sketch.
I pointed to it. “What’s that one, Conor?”
He smiled as he studied his own sketch. “Home.”
An icy tingle rolled down my spine. What did he mean, home? And why was he seeing these things? What was going on?
This turn of events only increased my desire to get out of the house and away from the madness.
I was going to have to keep a close eye on him. That would be a lot easier if I wasn’t working for the next few days. If someone or something from beyond the Veil was giving him these visions, there was a reason. Given what I’d learned about the Sidhe, I knew that it wouldn’t be for Conor’s benefit.
The Red Cap had certainly shown an interest in him, but the creature was dead. What had he known about Conor that I didn’t? Should I have tried to interrogate him?
Too late now.
I resolved to try harder to keep a close eye on Conor. The last thing I wanted was my precious boy entangled in the Sidhe world and its cruelty.
Conor extricated himself from my tight embrace and climbed to his feet. He glanced at the computer which was paused on some sort of lobby screen.
“I must have fallen asleep while I was playing,” he said softly. “I didn’t think I was that tired.”
“That’s okay. You’ll be able to get plenty of rest where we’re going,” I said.
“Going?”
“Yep,” I replied, getting to my feet. “We’re going on a holiday.”
He looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. It had been a while since we’d done anything other than go to the park with Bran. Life at home had been rocky for a while with Judas, even before he’d departed. Family holidays hadn’t happened for a few years.
“We’re going on a boat,” I said, hoping he would buy in to the new experience.
“A boat?”
“A big one,” I replied. “It will take us over to an island where we can see the dolphins, go sand boarding. We might even get to ride on some quad bikes.”
Conor’s eyes lit up. No magic this time, just the childlike joy every parent longs to see in their kid’s eyes.
“Really?”
“Absolutely, and we’re leaving soon, so let’s get you packed. We won’t be taking the car on the ferry so we can only take what we can carry with us.”
I spent the next half hour helping Conor pack. He looked remorseful as he powered down his PC.
“Sorry, hon,” I said, “that one won’t fit but you can bring your Switch if you like. You just need to watch where you put it down.”
The little handheld gaming console could plug into a TV or be used on its own. For Conor, it proved the perfect compromise. He grabbed his pouch of games and the Switch from its charging station and loaded them all into a small shoulder-slung backpack.
I tapped his bag. “Okay, let’s take this downstairs and wait in the lounge room. Gran and I still have a few things to pack.”
Downstairs, we found Shay waiting with her bags all ready to go. Her suitcase was absolutely bursting at the seams, as was her backpack and the largest handbag she could find. She looked awfully proud of herself, so instead of calling her on it, I just smiled.
“Fortunately, the resort is right next to the ferry dock, so we won’t have to drag things too far. Could you two do me a favor?” I asked.
Shay looked at me skeptically, not quite willing to commit to an unnamed favor.
“I need you to pack up Bran’s bed, biscuits, and favorite toys.”
“Are we taking him with us?” Conor asked, jumping onto the couch beside me.
“I wish. We aren’t allowed pets on the island, but there is no way we’re leaving him at home for three days.”
“He’ll get lonely,” Conor said.
He wasn’t wrong. And if anyone did come looking for us, I didn’t want them taking out their frustrations on our good boy.
“He’ll be having his own holiday,” I said, “but we need to pack his things.”
While Shay and Conor fussed over Bran, I loaded the kids’ bags in the car along with a small beach trolley to help us carry everything. I packed a few grocery bags with supplies. There was no sense leaving food at home to spoil, and we certainly needed some snacks to last us on the boat ride over. Once I was happy the car was loaded, I went looking for my mother.
I found her in the downstairs bedroom where she’d spent the last few weeks. I pushed the door open, just in time to see her jamming the stock of her shot gun into a small leather carry case.
“Mum, you can’t bring that with us.”
She zipped up the leather carry case. “I can and I will. After what that creature did to me in the forest, I’m not taking any chances. If any more of them come for me, they’re going to get both barrels, sweetheart. Solid shot, iron slugs. Faerie bastards won’t know what hit them.”
“If you’re caught taking that to the island, we’ll be arrested,” I said.
“It’s a ferry, dear, not a plane, so no security. And they’ll have no reason to check up on a little old lady like me, so unless you tell them, we’ll be just fine.”
She looked at the sealed case. “Bruce and I won’t be parting company this weekend.”
“Bruce?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. It sounded like the world’s most innocuous name for a vibrator. Could she make this anymore awkward?
“Bruce, both barrels,” Mom replied, “which is exactly what those creatures will get if they come looking for trouble.”
I knew better than to argue with my mother. We would be here all day.
“Just keep it out of sight of the children,” I replied. “And locked.”
“Of course, dear,” she replied in a tone that implied I was stating the blatantly obvious. “And it will stay right where it is unless there’s trouble.”
She looked down at her watch. “Where did all the time go? We need to get going if we want to catch the last ferry.”
Sleet buzzed back into the house, as if sensing we were about to leave. “All clear, Nora!”
“Well done, Sleet. I’ve got a treat for you when we reach the boat, but first we need to take a drive.”
Sleet beamed. Mom and I bundled him, the kids, and Bran into the car. We headed up the street, passing Mrs. Grobinski watering her lawn. The old gossip gave me the evil eye as we passed so I made sure to wave, all five fingers extended despite the temptation to do otherwise.
Moreton Island was one of the largest sand islands in the world. As a result, almost the entire island was a dedicated national park. We stopped by a country kennel on the way north. With plenty of grassland to roam, Bran was sure to have a good time. I only hoped he played nice with the other boarders.
I gave him a big cuddle before entrusting him to their care. I did my best to avoid the sad look in his eyes as he realized he wasn’t coming with us.
“Boy, if we could take you, we would,” I said, rubbing his head. “But we’ll be back soon, okay?”
He didn’t look nearly convinced, but I pointed to all the other dogs playing in the yard. “You’ll be able to make loads of friends.”
Bran panted, his big doggy tongue wagging in the heat as he loped over to the shade of a large tree.
We gave him one last wave and resumed our trip north to the ferry terminal.
Moreton Island was about sixty kilometers northeast of Brisbane, the state capital and the largest port in the region. We got to the terminal right as the ferry was starting to load.
“Quick, guys, we don’t want to miss it,” I said. “It’s the last one for hours.”
We piled out of the car and dumped all our baggage in the beach trolley. I pulled it behind me as Mom shepherded Shay and Conor onto the wharf. Conor was wearing his new noise-canceling headphones as he often did in public, which helped him ignore the thick press of people around us. My mother produced her phone and showed the boarding staff our tickets.
Leaving our baggage for them to load, I prayed silently they wouldn’t check Mom’s bag. Bruce needed to stay incognito.
We paused at the gangplank onto the ferry. Conor eyed the plank that rose and fell with the waves with skepticism and fear. I put my arm around his shoulders.
“It’s okay, buddy. We’ll do it together,” I said.
I put my arm around him and steered him down the plank. His pace quickened as we raced down the plank and onto the ferry.
The vessel could easily accommodate a hundred passengers and a dozen cars on its multiple decks. Shay tore up the stairs, heading for the second floor. Mom, Conor, Sleet and I made our way after her. Reaching the second floor, we wandered to the front of the ferry and settled in as the other patrons loaded.
“Can I go outside?” Shay asked, pointing to the swinging doors that led out onto the prow of the ferry.
“Once we’re moving, but for the moment, stay here, please.”
I had chosen a seat that gave me an excellent view of the second-floor cabin and the other passengers as they made their way inside. Perhaps it was paranoia or PTSD from dealing with the Red Cap, but I scrutinized each and every passenger who wandered onto the second floor.
Two other families climbed up the stairs. One went to sit out on the prow deck. The other found a place near the back of the boat where they attempted to shield their sleeping child from the ruckus of a football team that joined us.
The team members couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen years old. Shay snuck darting glances at them over the top of her book.
I was not ready for this stage of her life. One of the boys swept his mop of blond hair to the side and smiled back at her. She blushed, tearing her eyes away.
His eyes eventually found mine and, noting Shay’s head buried in her book once more, I slowly drew my thumb across my neck in a deliberate motion. The boy swallowed and looked away.
Message received, I hoped.
My gaze drifted back to the stairs where a tall passenger stood, most of his face hidden beneath a floppy wide-brimmed felt hat. He was leaning against the wall, staring right at us.
“Stay here,” I whispered to the kids as I rose from my seat.
I got two steps before he raced down the stairs. I went after him, plunging down the stairs two at a time. When I reached the bottom deck, he simply vanished. I wandered around a few of the parked cars, checking for any sign of the man who’d been watching us, but he was nowhere to be found.
The ferry crew untied our moorings and we got underway. As the crew fussed about the ship, I made my way back upstairs, my heart still racing from the sprint.
Why was someone watching us? And who was making trouble in my hometown? Could the stranger in the hat have anything to do with the dead Sidhe Alasdair had found?
Were the Winter Court really trying to frame me or was there something else at play? A part of the picture I couldn’t see yet.
I found my seat and sank into it. I’d hoped to have a nap on the trip over, but there was no way I could do that now. So, I pulled out a brochure about the island to keep myself awake.
The trip to Moreton Island was a little under an hour and a half on a good day and as we plowed through the waves toward our destination, I found myself thinking of Alasdair.
Of all the places we could have gone, why had he picked Moreton Island?