Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Love seems entwined with grief. It has been six years since Mrs. Ryan died, and still, Aidan misses her.
Just today he went to her grave for the anniversary.
How long will it last? Or does it never fade?
Is love worth it if in the end all we have is pain?
– from the diary of Oren Byrne, age fourteen.
When we arrived at the ruins of Hillridge Farm, Father, Iris, and Georgie were already there. They hadn’t approached the ruins, most likely waiting for us or avoiding the apparition who haunted the remains. I had yet to see the ghost, but somehow, I doubted they were anymore anxious than I was.
Nevan swung off his horse and sauntered toward Iris. He gave her an elaborate bow, sweeping off his hat in the process. “Hello, oh most beautiful fae in the realm.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Nevan Byrne, while I think you’re indeed the funniest of your family besides Aidan, I am not amused.”
He gave her a warm smile, and I rolled my eyes. Nevan was nothing if not obvious when he pursued someone. He said, “I do apologize. I will try to be more pleasing in the future. I’m known to be most pleasant at night.”
Father cleared his throat. “You’re lucky Hester is not present, Nevan. Apologize for your rudeness.”
Iris lifted her hand. “Unneeded, Dowager Lord Byrne. I can defend myself.” She walked closer to Nevan, her smile turning rather sweet, though I detected a bite to it.
“You are lovely for a human, Nevan Byrne, but you lack two things on your chest that I find rather pleasing, and you have something between your legs that has never come near me, nor will it ever. Men do not and never will interest me.”
Neil grabbed his twin’s shoulder and whispered loudly, “Bow out.”
Nevan gave her a pleasant smile and backed away.
Thankfully, Mrs. Hillridge hadn’t witnessed the exchange, because she was still in the carriage with Miss Quirke.
I hoped they would exit soon, but I didn’t blame her for not wanting to see her dead husband again.
I slid off my horse, and Abnus followed suit, staying close to me.
I slid my arm through his without invitation because I needed reassurance of his presence.
The sole reaction he gave was to tug me even closer to his side.
Iris prowled forward, glamour falling. Horns curled from her forehead and her skin turned gold while leafy wings graced her back. She was equally lovely and intimidating in both of her forms.
Nevan glanced at my hand locked in Abnus’s elbow and smirked, but he didn’t say anything because Neil jabbed him in the ribs before stepping forward.
I was grateful for Neil’s protection and Sevrin’s silence about what he knew had occurred between Abnus and I.
Whatever lay between us was fragile in its impermanence.
I had to shield it, or I feared the slightest wind would extinguish it.
Finally, the carriage door opened, and Miss Quirke and Mrs. Hillridge alighted.
Poor Mrs. Hillridge was frightfully pale and her skin bore a tinge of green.
Her wide eyes and shallow breaths made me fear that she would faint long before we even saw her husband.
Miss Quirke pulled Mrs. Hillridge’s arm through hers, holding her tight.
“You can do this,” Miss Quirke whispered. “I know you can.”
Mrs. Hillridge didn’t reply, but her posture straightened, and she started forward to the ruined buildings.
Abnus didn’t release me as we followed the group; in fact, his grip tightened, especially when Miss Quirke glanced in our direction with narrowed eyes and a thoughtful tilt to her mouth.
My romantic heart knew he was jealous, but I wished for it to mean more.
I beat back my foolish notions and desires.
Now wasn’t the time. Besides, if I allowed myself to take liberties in regards to my thoughts or desires, Abnus would shatter me beyond repair when he didn’t return the affections I so desperately needed.
Miss Quirke’s eyes flicked to my hand tucked into Abnus’s elbow, yet again, and I swore the air grew colder. She didn’t remark or react more than to shiver and guide Mrs. Hillridge onward.
“What are we to do?” Mrs. Hillridge asked, voice quaking.
I didn’t know. I knew nothing of ghosts.
Suddenly, I was reminded of when I was the heir, and how every day had been a struggle where I felt as if I was failing everyone. That, in many respects, hadn’t changed. But now when I failed, it would only affect me and possibly my family, not the whole of Sídhetír.
“Oren,” Miss Quirke said. “What are we to do?”
I squeezed Abnus’s arm, but thank God, Iris piped up. “You there, human, widow, whatever, come speak to your dead mate.”
Mrs. Hillridge jerked back from the brusque words, and I immediately felt guilty. Iris wasn’t the most delicate of beings, which I knew from our limited acquaintance, but I hadn’t found my voice.
Father looked at Iris, but he didn’t comment.
Georgie spoke up, their voice pleasant though hard, “Please a little kindness, Iris.”
Iris frowned, but she told Mrs. Hillridge, “Death is hard for everyone, not just humans. My intention is not to cause you pain, but rather, hopefully, find a resolution if there is one to be found.”
Mrs. Hillridge didn’t speak and took a step forward, entering the broken ruins of the farm. There wasn’t much left. Beneath the snow, I caught glimpses of the burned wood, and the broken studs poking the air like shattered bones. The sole solid remnant was the stone chimney.
My hand started to slip from Abnus’s hold when my pulse sped up and my gut lurched, but he tightened his grip. “Stay close, Mr. Byrne.”
“Come on, then,” I said, approaching Father’s side as the feeling continued to swell.
Iris and Mrs. Hillridge stood at the front of our group.
The widow trembled as she clutched the skirt of her gown.
She stared at the ruins, face dreadfully pale.
I feared she would drop into a faint, and I didn’t blame her.
I couldn’t cogitate facing the man I loved and who’d been brutally ripped from me.
Even the mere contemplation of it was enough to make me cling to Abnus all the more, and we weren’t in love nor married; as Mrs. Hillridge and her spouse had been from all accounts.
“John,” Mrs. Hillridge whispered as the wind stirred the small curls around her face.
The apparition appeared suddenly. If I’d blinked I would’ve missed it.
He moved toward her. His mouth opened and closed as if he was screaming, only we couldn’t hear him.
His skin was covered in blisters and melted, making him near unrecognizable.
One of his arms was bone and muscle, skin completely torn off.
“Help,” he cried. “Help me.”
Mrs. Hillridge shook her head. “I couldn’t.
By God, John, I couldn’t. I tried.” She offered her palms, which were pink with burn scars.
“I tried. I truly did. Mr. Ryan pulled me away, and yet if I’d stayed, I would’ve been consumed by the flames.
I know I would’ve been, though some days I wish I’d been burned to ash with you.
I wish I’d died with you, but I couldn’t leave Nancy. ”
Her voice broke as sobs took the place of words. Tears slid down her cheeks, and she pressed a shaking fist to her mouth. “John,” she whimpered when he kept asking for help. Her knees gave way, and she fell to the snow in a flurry of skirts. “Oh, John. I’m so sorry.”
I swiped my own tears away, holding Abnus closer. His lips brushed my temple. “I am here, a ghrá.”
Mrs. Hillridge bent toward the snow, back heaving with the strength of her grief. “Oh, John. Please forgive me. Please, John.”
Her grief pulled at me like a string, and I took a single step forward. Abnus growled and refused to release me.
A wave went through the apparition. His mouth closed and his sightless eyes seemed to take in Mrs. Hillridge for the first time. Slowly, he floated to her before he lowered a hand to her head. She jerked up, and he smiled.
“Rachel.”
“John, I’m sorry.”
He stroked her cheek. “It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault.”
“I should’ve saved you.”
“No, you lived, and that’s all I wanted.” He shivered. “Something keeps trying to take me away. I say no, but they keep trying.”
“Who?” I asked, finding my voice, tears freezing on my cheeks.
John looked at me. “I don’t know, but they call for me. Never ceasing. I’m fighting. I’m always fighting. Though, now, their call is silent. Why? Perhaps it is you, Mr. Byrne. You saved me.”
My mouth opened. I hadn’t done anything.
He stroked his wife’s hair. “I love you.”
Tears poured down her cheeks. “I love you.”
With one more smile, the ghost rippled, and he vanished like a puff of smoke in the wind.
My free hand went to my stomach as it churned. I wasn’t made for all this.
“John,” Mrs. Hillridge cried, arms wrapped around her middle, head falling to the snow. “Oh, John.”
Miss Quirke rushed to her side and fell to the ground, gathering her friend close.
More tears slipped down my cheeks, and I wanted to hide them in shame.
Nevan, Neil, and Abnus were dry-eyed, Father certainly was, as was Georgie, but here I was crying for a man I could barely claim an acquaintance with.
But I couldn’t stop them as Mrs. Hillridge’s grief stabbed me like a knife in the gut, making my bile climb my throat.
Abnus nosed my ear. “I am here, Oren.”
I snaked my arm about his waist, not caring who saw. “Stay with me.”
“I have nowhere else to be.”
Iris shifted around the ruins, muttering under breath as something stung my nose and lifted the hair on my arms. Little wisps of golden light swirled around her fingers, mixed with green leaves.
“Magic,” I whispered.
“Indeed. Light fae magic.”
“Something’s skulking around here,” Iris commented, facing us. Her glamour slid back into effect, and she was the same bad-tempered forty-year-old I’d become accustomed to. “Can’t say what, but it stinks.”