Chapter Four

Exhausted, I slid down to the floor, Finn’s trench coat ballooning around me like a tent. Grumbling to myself, I picked up the broken glass. Spotting a wayward piece in the corner, I jumped back as the air snapped and the shard skittered toward me.

After everything that had happened, the freaky telekinesis seemed a bit tame by comparison. I picked up the glass, staring at the rainbows fractured in the crystal. “Well,” I said aloud. “At least I know I’m not having a nervous breakdown.”

But I definitely needed to find a way out of here. My stomach gurgled, nausea giving way to a painful, gnawing hunger. While dinner with Finn and Co. sounded swell, I needed to make my escape.

I threw on the jeans and sweater Finn had left for me, a pair of black boots completing the ensemble. Leaving Finn’s jacket on the floor, I then thought better of it. October in Chicago could be chilly.

Rattling the window, the pane refused to budge an inch. I fled from my room and through the hallway with light footsteps, trying every door as I passed, but none of the ornate brass knobs turned.

“What are you doing out of your room?”

Seamus’s voice boomed through the hallway, and I jumped. My throat tightened as the lie slipped out of my mouth. “I was just looking for the dining room. Finn said I should come down to dinner.”

Seamus raised his eyebrows. “Did he? Follow me, then.” He turned on his heel and motioned me to follow him.

I trotted to keep up. A bright purple bruise bloomed like a faded iris on his face, and I suppressed a smile. “How’s your jaw?”

He didn’t reply.

We came to a large wooden door, which Seamus opened with a mock flourish. Finn leaned against a long table, in close conversation with a slight woman in her early thirties. She had long flaming red hair gathered in a loose braid over her shoulder.

“I agree with you, Grainne,” Finn said to the red-haired woman, taking a sip of wine. “I don’t want to press the girl, but given the current political climate—”

“And are we in the business of kidnapping and torturing young ladies, now? Is that what we’ve come to, Finn?” The woman asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Jaysus! I didn’t say anything about torture. Let’s see if we can convince her—”

“Convince me of what?” I said.

Seamus piped up behind me. “Look who I found wandering the halls. You should take better care of your pets, Finn.”

Finn scraped a chair against the floor, gesturing to me to take a seat. I remained still.

“Convince me of what?” I asked again.

Finn surveyed me from head to toe, eyes blazing. “Is there a reason you’re still wearing my coat?”

A blush crept up my neck, and I fingered the large black buttons running down the length of the lapels. I felt like the drama nerd who got caught wearing the quarterback’s letter jacket. I shrugged it off like it was on fire and threw it at Finn, who caught it with one hand. I folded my arms around my chest, my body feeling exposed without the heavy leather on my shoulders.

“I was cold.” I slipped into my seat and shoved a napkin on my lap.

Finn folded his trench on his chair and sat beside me. “You’ve met Seamus.”

“Yes,” I said. “I hope he improves on further acquaintance.”

Seamus plunked into his seat and glared at me from across the table. I flashed him a wide smile.

“This is Grainne,” Finn continued, gesturing to the woman with the red hair. She grinned at me, a smattering of freckles dancing on her cheekbones. “You’ve met Carolan, but he usually takes dinner in his room. Máirtín and Regina should join us soon.”

As if on cue, a tall, lanky man in a long wool robe and a petite young woman with a vintage bob walked through the door with their arms around each other. Bent over laughing as if they had just shared a hilarious private joke, they sobered when they saw me. Máirtín disentangled himself from Regina and walked over to my chair. He shoved the long sleeves of his homespun robe away from his hands.

“How’s our patient doing?” Máirtín placed a hand on my forehead. Grabbing my chin with the unassuming authority only a trained doctor could have, he peered into my eyes. He scanned my face, and I felt drawn into his gaze for a moment, pulled in by some vast presence lurking there.

“Máirtín is our resident doctor,” Finn filled in for me.

“Mad scientist, more like,” Seamus quipped under his breath.

I shook my head and tore my chin away from Máirtín’s delicate fingers. “I’m fine,” I said. “Just a little hungry.”

“Of course, you must be famished.” Máirtín patted my arm. “What are we waiting for? Let’s eat, everyone!”

The diners passed around the delicate china plates with the routine motions of a close-knit family, and Grainne filled my wine glass with a smile. Finn, seated beside me, spoke softly in my ear. “Take it slow, Elizabeth. You haven’t eaten anything in almost a week.”

My skin prickled. A week? No wonder my limbs felt so brittle. My mind raced with questions, but I kept them to myself and focused on gaining my strength. I took a large bite of chicken, suppressing a moan of delight at the burst of herbal flavors in my mouth. The food hit my stomach, and a wave of nausea gripped me. Setting my fork down, I placed a hand to my abdomen to quell the battle raging in my gut.

Máirtín didn’t miss my distress, and he leaned in to me from across the table. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the venom’s lingering effects will pass soon.” He studied me with his large eyes. “I must say, your recovery has been nothing short of miraculous. I meant to ask you if you might allow me to take a blood sample. The possibilities for producing an antidote against the bastes are great, and if we only had a little bit of your blood, the Dark Fae would never dare—”

Regina kicked Máirtín under the table. “Máirtín!” she hissed, “nach labhairt faoi sióga os comhair an cailín.”

Don’t talk about Faeries in front of the girl.

“What about the Faeries?” I asked, leaning forward. The crash of utensils broke the tense atmosphere around the table. Regina paled and glanced at Finn, who looked like he was about to murder Máirtín and Regina both.

Finn cleared his throat. “Elizabeth studied Irish with Moiré and Kevin Forrester at St. Brendan’s University.”

“I’m still a beginner.” I wiped my mouth with my cloth napkin. “But Moiré and Dr. Forrester were excellent teachers.”

“And excellent friends,” Máirtín added, raising his glass, trying to recover from his transgression. “To Moiré and Kevin.” I glanced at Finn. A muscle tremored in his jaw as he lifted his wine. The group muttered a sorrowful sláinte and commenced eating again in silence.

After a few awkward moments, Grainne spoke up. “Elizabeth, is it true you knocked out Seamus?”

Seamus lowered his fork. “She did not knock me out!”

My eyes never left my plate, but a sly smile spread across my lips.

“I’m sure he deserved it, that eejit.” Grainne looked down at her plate and shook her head. “A little thing like you taking on Seamus. Where did you learn to throw a punch like that?”

“My father taught me some self-defense. He’s a high-ranking officer in the United States Army.” I raised my voice and turned toward Finn. “Military Intelligence. I’m sure he is looking for me right now.”

Yeah, right. When was the last time you talked? Six? Seven months?

Finn cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t worry about that. We’ve addressed your disappearance with the authorities and your close friends and family. No one is looking for you.”

“What, what do you mean?” My skin prickled, and I grabbed onto the edge of the chair.

Finn raised his eyebrows, his voice bored. “As far as they know, you’re so stricken with grief after Kevin Forrester’s death you’ve decided to spend time with some friends in Chicago.” He glanced around the table, gesturing to my so-called “friends.” “As soon as you provide us with the information we need, you can certainly be on your way.” Finn took a bite of bread and chewed noisily. The desire to smash his face with my elbow bubbled up inside of me.

Grainne’s eyes shifted back and forth between Finn and me and, flashing me a sympathetic smile, she filled my wine glass once more. A drop fell against the stem and bled through the white tablecloth, staining it deep red.

Head swimming, I brought the wine to my lips, taking a long, deep sip for some liquid courage.

“Well, since I’m among friends, maybe you could tell me who you people are. Isn’t that what friends do? Share secrets?”

Regina and Máirtín exchanged worried glances while Seamus shook his head, chuckling beneath his breath. Grainne huffed and rolled her eyes at him, but Finn sat up straighter. Sensing his dark stare, they all fell in line, masking their reactions.

“Who are you?” I hissed. “What does Trinity actually do?”

No one moved. After a long pause, Finn cleared his throat. “It’s perhaps better if you don’t know, Elizabeth.”

I shared a long stare with the Irishman. A storm brewed in his eyes, belying his calm façade. I could just tell him. Maybe he actually would let me go after I gave him the details about Arranmore. Finn said he was a man of his word. But I knew how this worked. A hostage is only valuable when she has something her captors want. I knew too much. Had seen too much. I was a part of this now, and I wanted information before I made any decision.

“Fine.” I threw my napkin on my plate. “You don’t talk. I don’t talk.”

“We can make you talk, if you prefer,” Seamus said in a dark voice.

“And I can kick you in the nuts if you would prefer.” Grainne rose from her chair.

Finn made a low noise in his throat, and she backed down.

Turning around, Finn shot me a hooded glance. “There’s no need to make this difficult.”

“I’m not the one being difficult.” My hands trembled beneath the table, and I forced my voice not to waiver. “I just want to understand what’s going on.”

Grainne nodded and looked expectantly at Finn. “She deserves to know,” she whispered.

“That’s enough!” Finn barked.

After a long pause, Máirtín cleared his throat. “Please, Elizabeth. Let’s finish dinner at least. You need your strength.”

I took a deep breath and picked up my fork, stabbing at the fleshy carrots on my plate.

Máirtín leaned his elbows on the table, his sharp features softened in the candlelight. “Finn is right,” he said. “You need to trust us.”

I dabbed at my mouth with my napkin. “My dad always said trust is something you earn.”

“Perhaps you need to have more faith,” Máirtín countered.

“I don’t put faith in things I don’t understand.”

“Maybe you should.” Máirtín smiled. “The world is full of mysteries.”

I took a sip of wine. “Yeah, like giant snakes and swords that appear from nowhere, apparently.”

Grainne let out an involuntary laugh, which she smothered with her napkin.

Máirtín sighed and cleared his throat, changing the subject. “So Elizabeth, where did your family emigrate from? Are you German, Irish, Scottish…?”

I shook my head. Moiré had always joked that Irish folk would always find a way to discover your entire ancestral history within the first five minutes of meeting you.

I took a long sip of wine. “My mother was Irish. My father…well, I don’t know, actually.”

“What was your mother’s name?”

“O’Neill. Niamh O’Neill,” I said, pushing my mashed potatoes around my plate. I looked up. Everyone around the table had become very still.

After a few moments, Finn leaned in toward me. “I’m sorry. Did you say Niamh O’Neill?” He said the name slowly, enunciating carefully.

“Yeah…so what?”

Finn leaned back in his chair, studying me. “And your father. You said he was in the military? Where did he meet your mother?”

I shrugged. “In London. I was born there, but I didn’t grow up there…obviously.”

Seamus glanced at Finn, and the two men shared a meaningful look.

I put down my fork. “What?”

Finn threw his arm behind the back of his chair, propping his hand against his forehead. “Do you know what part of Ireland she was from? Did you ever meet her family?”

“She died when I was a baby. My dad never talked about her.”

He frowned. “He never left any clues to her origins lying around? Mementos? Keepsakes? Pictures?”

I looked down at my lap. There was one picture. I had found it hidden away in one of my father’s drawers. A faded Polaroid of a young woman with long curly hair and green eyes, laughing about something. It was the only proof Niamh O’Neill had ever existed.

“No, there was nothing.”

“Strange. He didn’t want to remember his wife?”

My heart raced, these probing questions cutting a little too deep for light dinner conversation. I folded my napkin and stood up again. “I don’t see how this is any of your business. I’m-I’m feeling a little tired.” Pushing in my chair, I nodded at Grainne, Regina, and Máirtín. “Nice meeting you. Good night.”

“Do you know the way back to you room?” Finn stood up, and we knocked foreheads.

I let out a curse as pain shot through my temples.

His fingers brushed against the edge of my scalp, but I wrenched back, stumbling to the entryway.

“No! I mean, I-I know the way.”

Grainne gave me a bright smile, but Regina and Máirtín exchanged a troubled glance. Finn’s gaze branded my back as I left, but I looked straight ahead, trying to measure my footsteps and praying he wouldn’t follow me.

After I placed enough distance between myself and the dining room, I sprinted down an unfamiliar hallway. Now was my chance for escape. Turning right, I found myself in a cavernous foyer with marble stairs curving down to a grand oak door spanning the height of the room. Stained-glass windows flanked each side, the green Trinity knot insignia glowing in the evening light shining through the intricate design.

I bounded down the steps and, clasping my hand around the door handle, I pulled. And pulled. Crouching down, I studied the door. No locking mechanism. Not even a keyhole for the door handle.

I glanced around for something heavy to break the glass and spotted a silver candlestick on an end table. Gripping the cold metal, I swung it in a wide arc. Shutting my eyes, anticipating the impact of shattering glass, I opened them again in shock, shards of pain stabbing my forearm. I heard a whoosh, and a great blast of energy sent me flying backward, skidding across the marble floor.

I glanced at the candlestick, now twisted at an impossible angle, and threw it away with a clatter.

That’s when the alarm sounded.

Shit.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway, and I frantically searched for an exit as Finn, Seamus, Grainne, Regina, and Máirtín poured into the room.

“What the fuck…” I raised my shaking hands up to the ceiling.

Both Finn and Grainne held deadly looking swords, and Máirtín gripped a staff, its wood so aged it glimmered. Regina cocked and aimed a revolver lined with some strange kind of clockwork gears, and Seamus held a large bow nocked with a glinting arrow pointed right at my head.