Chapter 17
Niamh
I wake to what I think might be late afternoon sunlight shining through a narrow window – a welcome change from the thick mist. The room Declan showed me to was tiny, but much warmer than I expected and with a small en suite bathroom.
It’s not going to win a tourism award anytime soon, but after the events of last night and me running through the woods, I was grateful for the chance to shower and sleep.
He also gave me a T-shirt to wear that was too big, but anything is better than my blood-soaked dress.
I smile at the faint sound of birds singing. Even though the window is open, the room is hot and airless, the ancient stones trapping the heat. There’s an old-fashioned lock on the door, operated by a heavy, cast-iron key. A huge deadbolt gives me an extra sense of security.
I wonder how Rose was this morning. Did she wake up in her own bed, safe and oblivious to the events of last night? I try to push down the anger that gnaws at my gut, unable to decide if I’d be in a better or worse situation if I hadn’t called Cillian last night.
Worse. Definitely worse. If those men had loaded us into their car and driven us who knows where.
I’m certain I wouldn’t be alive to tell the tale.
And despite Cillian promising Vittoria that he was taking me into the woods to kill me, somehow I’m still alive.
I wonder if he’s still looking for me? Except that I know he’s not.
He was very clear that the hunt ended at dawn.
He knows that I’m either here or … or wherever my body would have been left if the Wild Hunt had got me.
If he had wanted to kill me, I’d already be dead.
Even tucked up in bed with a room that locks, I can’t help but feel on edge. Despite Declan’s reassurances that no harm will come to me at St Marnox, I don’t feel all that safe. And if Cillian comes here, what exactly will happen? Worse still, what if Vittoria finds me?
Climbing out of bed, I stretch my aching limbs and wander to the small window, looking out into the sunshine.
I lean against the ledge and sigh, I clench my fingers around my necklace, feeling a sense of relief from the familiar weight in my hand.
The things I’ve seen over the past twenty-four hours should be unbelievable.
The Kinfolk, the Underworld, how can these be real?
And yet … there’s something on the edge of my consciousness, telling me that it’s all true, but when I focus on it, it slips away, as if it were never there.
Out on the water, a small head peeps up from beneath the smooth surface and disappears in circles of ripples.
It’s gone before I can see it properly. The waters of the loch are clear and an intriguing shade of greenish-blue, sparkling in the sunlight.
The head bobs up again, closer to the jetty, and then I realise it’s a man swimming.
He reaches the jetty and pushes himself out of the water, landing easily on his feet on the wooden boards.
Naked. I gasp, turning away from the window and pressing my back to the wall.
I take a deep breath and peer cautiously back out.
He’s got a towel wrapped around his waist now, and he’s standing looking out over the water, his back to me.
I don’t think it’s Declan or Dominic. This man is taller and looks younger.
He’s tall, broad-shouldered, his upper body tapers athletically to a slender waist and muscular legs.
I watch his muscles tense and loosen as he stretches a little before he turns and looks up, right towards my window, and I’m hit with a jolt of recognition.
Except it can’t be. He’s … he’s dead.
A chill seeps through me. Have I got everything wrong?
Maybe Cillian didn’t shoot the deer. Maybe that bolt was aimed directly at me.
Was everything from the moment I turned and ran into the mist last night actually me entering the afterlife?
Is that what the Underworld is? Am I … am I dead?
I let my head drop forward, misjudging the distance to the glass, and pain shoots through my forehead.
‘Ow!’ Shouldn’t the afterlife be free from pain?
Rubbing the sore spot on my head I squint in the bright sunlight.
The man finishes drying himself, drops the towel and leans over to pick up his discarded robe.
He pulls it over his head before he walks back towards the monastery.
As he draws closer, I’m more certain than ever that it’s him.
Matt. Rose’s dead boyfriend, Matt.
I race to the door and pull it open, then realise I can’t go downstairs dressed just in the T-shirt Declan gave me to sleep in last night. But I need to talk to Matt.
Footsteps echo on the stone stairs, and I duck back into my room, only to jump when someone knocks on my door. I open it to see Brother Declan, carrying a robe similar to the ones the others wear.
‘Thank you for letting me stay here last night,’ I tell him. ‘I’ll try and repay you once … once I get home and get my credit cards and—’
‘You think you can leave?’ He stares at me in confusion.
‘Well … yes,’ I say, confused. ‘Can’t I?’
‘No,’ he says, as if there’s not even a discussion to be had.
‘But—’
‘Not unless you’re willing to go through the Court. It’s the only way out.’
I stare at him, a chill running through me.
‘The Court? But … but… Please … I need to leave.’
‘You can stand trial in The Unseelie Court, but given that you killed Kin, I don’t think you’ll enjoy the result.’
‘The what? What’s The Unseelie Court? And … it would have been self-defence, if I’d even meant to do it. Which I didn’t. He fell on me and the knife, I didn’t mean to kill him.’
Declan rests his hand on my shoulder. ‘I don’t think it’ll matter.’
‘But it should.’ I have never wanted to clench my fists and stomp my feet more than I do right at this moment.
He nods in sympathy, but his answer doesn’t change. And he doesn’t answer my question about The Unseelie Court either. If only I could rewind my life and just refuse to go to that nightclub with Rose. Then none of this would be happening. Everything would be all right.
‘So, unless I agree to go to this Unseelie Court, then I’m a prisoner here?’
He pauses for a moment before he speaks. ‘You sought sanctuary here. Do you really not know where you are?’
I shrug. ‘No, not really. I mean, I know where St Marnox is, but that’s not what you mean, is it?’
‘All of us here, we’ve each been accused of committing a crime.
Our accusers had enough evidence to take to The Unseelie Court, and the King, that’s Vincenzo Riali,’ he says and I nod.
‘If either the Court itself or the King is convinced, a hunt is called. The hunt is considered as a sort of trial. If you’re captured and killed, then it proves you were guilty. ’
I scoff. ‘Like a witch-hunt?’
‘Quite,’ he agrees. ‘Those lucky enough to reach here can go back, face a proper trial. Those of us who remain here, know we would never be acquitted by The Unseelie Court – either because we really are guilty, or because it suits the current king to believe we are. Much as we all dream of justice, the Court isn’t like it used to be, and we have to accept that the Riali family controls it completely now.
We all managed to outrun the Huntsman, or got here before the hunt began, to seek sanctuary.
We’re safe here. St Marnox exists in the human world, obviously, but the part that sits in the Underworld – only those granted sanctuary and the Hunters can enter here. And only the Hunters can leave.’
I gasp. ‘Cillian can come here?’
‘Yes, but he can’t harm you within these walls. And he won’t. Once you reach sanctuary, the Huntsman’s duty ends.’
‘Can Vittoria?’
‘No.’
Confusion clouds my thoughts. A million questions running through my mind. Humans, Kinfolk, the Underworld, Vittoria’s family controlling the Court? None of it makes sense. It feels as though I’ve stepped into the pages of a story.
‘Nothing you’re saying makes sense. None of this can be real—’ Except I already know that’s not true. Everything I saw last night was real.
‘There’s so much more than you can even imagine, Niamh.’
I think for a moment, then decide to focus on the most immediate matter.
‘What’s stopping me from leaving?’
‘The only exit leads directly into The Unseelie Court. There’s a geas on all of us.’
‘A geas?’
He tilts his head to one side, observing me.
‘It’s kind of Celtic curse. A magical bond placed on us – one that imprisons us here.
If we swim to the far shore, we will simply end up back here on the island.
If we go through into the human world and try and leave that way – well, I wouldn’t recommend trying that.
When you were granted sanctuary, it came with this consequence. ’
‘A consequence no one told me about.’
‘Whether you were aware or not, you asked for sanctuary, and it was granted.’
‘But the causeway—’
‘Appears and disappears when it wants to,’ he says. ‘Any other questions, or can we go and eat?’
‘Just one. What are the Kinfolk? It means family … in Scots.’
Declan nods, tilting his head to one side as he thinks.
‘Yes, and no. The Gaelic is Cinneadh, or “clan” in English, I suppose.
But that word has other connotations among the humans.
And the concept for us is so much more than the English conveys.
It is family, but a family through so much more than blood.
‘The Kinfolk have always been here, Niamh. Before humans, back into the mists of time. They go by many names, come in many guises,’ Declan tells me.
‘The wee folk, the guid folk, the gentle folk, the fae, fairies, even – although that one’s been so twisted that it bears no relation to what we really are, how powerful we really are. ’
I stare at him. Despite all the things I saw last night, to hear him say them so matter-of-factly… ‘Those aren’t real.’
‘They’re not?’