Resistance (30 page)

Chapter 20—Lumi

July 2102

I am lying on the bed in the late evening with my
nose buried in Fi’s old, repeatedly-read copy of Little Women when
I hear the commotion begin downstairs. I was very much enjoying
learning of this Jo March girl until I heard what sounded like
Flint and Eirnin shouting something along the lines of “Damn it!”
and “Breathe!” For a moment I lie frozen on the bed and hope I’m
imagining things, but when the sounds don’t stop I slowly stand up
and head to the door, peeking out to see Aodhan straining his neck
to see what is happening down the stairway.

“What’s going on down there?” I ask him quietly, and
he startles at my appearance.

“No idea,” he says, shaking his head. “Fi was rasping
at Flint and then my dad came in and now I can’t hear a damn
thing.”

“Should we go see?” I ask him. I’ve never been one to
run directly into the action; preferring to hang around the edges
and collect information to be filed away for later use, but I don’t
have enough knowledge of this house yet to be doing that. Plus, I
wouldn’t want to get Aodhan in trouble, sneaking around on his
watch. Back home my parents never assigned guards to me or the
other girls. All of us could die for all they cared, so long as
Khan, the proper heir, remained unscathed.

“I think Dad can take care of it,” he says, but I
hear the curiosity in his voice. He’s a well-behaved young man and
he certainly won’t break his father’s rules, and I have to admire
that. There’s a large part of me that wants to plow downstairs and
find out what is happening, though.

“Alright,” I reply, and smile up at him. He returns
it. “I’ll call you if it gets interesting again.”

“Excellent.” I strain to hear anything from the lower
level, but when I’m met with senseless murmurs I retreat to my
room. I scoop up the book again and attempt several different
positions before finally realizing I won’t be getting back into the
novel again until I know what has happened down there.

Half way through a devious plot to jump out the
window and peek in the kitchen’s back door, I hear a small knock on
the doorframe. I yank my head back inside the building and whirl
around, expecting to see Aodhan standing there with news, but I’m
greeted by a very tired looking Flint.

“Hello,” I say slowly, offering a smile so maybe he
won’t comment.

He smirks at me and shakes his head, but looks like
he’d like to crawl under the sheets and sleep for about ten years.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says with his heavy Scottish drawl. “I
sneak out for fresh air all the time.”

I snicker and pretend that’s exactly what I was
doing. “There is a lot of iron around here,” I admit and shake my
head. What’s the harm in telling the truth? I cringe a little,
because that question has gotten me in so much trouble already.
Flint isn’t like my parents, though, I remind myself. “That,
um…that wasn’t why I was sneaking out, though.”

“Not leaving us so soon, are ya?” he asks, taking a
seat on my bed.

“No!” I exclaim. “Of course not. I just…I heard all
the yelling downstairs and got worried. And nosy.”

He laughs; a tired, worn sound and I blink, moving to
lie on the bed behind him. “Fi fainted.”

“Oh no,” I gasp. “Is she alright? What happened?”

“There was a security breach,” Flint says, and turns
so he can look down at me. “A Winter Fae broke in and went after
Eirnin. When Fi tried to stop him, he took away her oxygen
supply.”

The look on my face must convey absolute shock, panic
and revulsion, because he shakes his head at me. “It’s been taken
care of, no need to fret.”

I nod, but still feel my heart beat in my stomach.
“Why did she pass out? Is Eirnin okay?”

“Too much stress over a fifteen minute period,” he
answers lightly, and I roll my eyes at his jovial demeanor. “Yes,
Eir is fine.”

“I appreciate you trying to show peace through this,
but you can’t play me, boy. You’re shaken,” I say. I feel a bit
calmer knowing my new friends are okay, but not much. So I decide
to thrust all my worry onto the kitsune—because he is the closest
target right now and because I am honestly concerned for his
wellbeing. He’s always so mischievous and excitable and seeing him
look so exhausted and ill concerns me.

He narrows his eyes at me but there’s no hate in
them. “I didn’t like seeing her like that, is all.” He glances down
at his hand, flexes his fingers a few times and I crane my neck to
peer over his shoulder. There are two fresh triquetra-shaped burns
on his hand that will surely scar, and the remnants of blood are
still visible in a few places.

“You killed him,” I state.

“Yes,” he answers flatly after a moment, even though
it wasn’t a question. “He would have killed Fianna and Eirnin,
otherwise.”

I can almost feel the guilt pouring out of him, but I
use every ounce of willpower in my tiny body to not pry into his
intentions. I’d already scrambled his brain when I implied he and
Fianna were an item, and poking him to tell her about it might
actually make his skull explode. Instead, I go with my gut and
believe he actually realizes, deep down, he can’t live without the
spunky teenage girl downstairs and squeeze his shoulder. “I’m sorry
you had to do that.”

He shakes his head and smiles at me, again looking
completely spent. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he
says. “Quincy could have just been a diversion.”

“I doubt you’ll have to worry about anyone looking
for me. I wouldn’t be surprised if my parents have yet to notice my
absence.”

Flint stares at me. “That’s really awful, you
know.”

I shrug. “It is what it is.”

He sighs and ruffles my hair. “Get some sleep, Mother
Theresa. It’s the middle of the night.”

I giggle and swat his hand away as he stands up.
“You, too, Hellboy. You look half dead, yourself.”

“Hellboy?” He gives me a look an older brother would
shoot his snarky younger sister. “Honestly, Princess.”

“Would you prefer Sparky?” I offer. “Flamethrower?
Ooh, maybe Twinkly Bottom. Marshmallow Roaster. Flick
McAlester.”

“Oh good God.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Hellboy
is fine, Your Highness.”

I beam at him and he makes a half-amused,
half-disbelieving snort. “Goodnight, Lumi.”

“Night!” I call back, and he disappears from vision
toward the library. I roll onto my back and snicker to myself for a
few minutes before cracking my book open again and resting it over
my face. I fall asleep to the smell of old book, and I believe it’s
the calmest I’ve been in centuries.

It’s late in the evening the following day when I
hear a soft knock on my door. It’s almost midnight and I’m wearing
a short, navy blue nightgown Fi found for me before I’d arrived.
It’s satin and lacy and I can almost hear my brother calling it
‘suggestive’, but in the summer heat I just don’t care. It’s
keeping me cool and I refuse to be embarrassed by how much of my
legs or back is showing. “Special delivery!” calls the sweet voice
of Fi’s younger brother, and I honestly contemplate throwing myself
under the sheets before granting him entry.

But no, I can’t figure out a good reason for pulling
the blankets up to my shoulders and not sitting up to talk to him.
So I let out a giggle over his words and push my feet into the
little white slippers with bunny ears on the toes and pull open the
door. “Hi, Eir.”

He pauses and looks me over, flushing deeply and then
smiling at my feet. Good job, Lu, I think. You’ve embarrassed him.
“Hello, Lulu,” he says in a low voice. He’s holding a giant box in
front of himself and his black tee shirt is speckled with dust.
There’s a white tote bag slung over his shoulder that’s not nearly
as dirty as he is. I suddenly remember Fi telling me Eir would go
up into the attic and fetch an old stereo for me and excitement
bubbles up in my chest. “You got it for me!” I exclaim; bouncing on
the balls of my feet. “Oh God, that must be heavy. Come on in, put
that down.”

“It’s not that heavy,” Eir says in typical
I-am-man-hear-me-grunt fashion. He’s smiling at me as I bounce
around the room. “And yes, of course I got it down for you! Where
would you like it, milady?” he adds cheerfully.

“Um…” I pause and look around the room. It’s still
pretty empty, with only a dresser, bed and nightstand with a lamp,
so the stereo could sit wherever I’d like it. I gesture to the
empty wall to the right of the window and say, “Right there works
if you don’t mind. Thank you so much for doing this!”

His face is flushed as he smiles at me and sets the
box where I pointed. He lets the tote bag drop off his shoulder and
into his hand before offering me a shy smile. “You’re welcome.” He
looks like he’s considering something as he sets down the bag and
starts to pull the stereo out of the box. It’s not overly large;
just three black rectangles all jammed up next to each other. The
two on the outside have two giant circular speakers in them, and
the one in the center has a slot for CDs and for a music player
from the twenty-first century.

“I brought something else for you, too,” he says
shyly as I kneel down to look it over. It appears to be in pristine
condition, and I have to wonder how it has survived the last
hundred years without even collecting a scratch—

Then I register what he said. “You do?”

He pokes out from behind the stereo system and smiles
at me, amused by my disbelief. “I do,” he says; twisting to fetch
the tote bag he’d been carrying and carefully offering it to me.
“Fi told me to grab you some of her CDs that she thought you’d
enjoy, but I thought you should have your own copies…so Aodhan and
I took a little trip yesterday while Uncle Sea was guarding you,
and well…” He bites his lip and looks at the bag as I take it from
him. He’s quiet for a moment and he pulls in a sudden, sharp breath
before blurting, “Well I got you some CDs so you can start your own
collection.”

I feel emotion prick at my eyes and blink a few times
to clear them out. He went out of his way to do something special
for me, rather than taking the easy way out and letting me borrow
his sister’s music, and that really makes me want to hug him for
the rest of the night. “You did that for me?” I ask, and then want
to punch myself for doing so. I ask too many questions. “You are so
sweet, Eir. Thank you so much.”

The blush on his cheeks gets hotter and he beams.
“You’re welcome. I hope you like them, but if you don’t, you can
tell me — I won’t be upset. And if you tell me what else you like,
I can get you more the next time I go pillaging.”

My hand stalls opening the zipper of the tote bag and
I giggle. “Pillaging?” I ask.

His face flames purple and he coughs; looking down at
the stereo and immediately throwing himself back into setting it
up. “Uh, yes…uh…I call it pillaging.”

I laugh and he seems to think it’s at him by the
ashamed look on his face, and that isn’t my intent. I think
‘pillaging’ sounds hilarious. “I would love to go pillaging with
you.”

His eyes snap up and he smiles at me like I’ve just
given him the winning lottery numbers. “It makes Fi laugh,” he says
slowly, and watches me with an intensity I’ve never seen before. “I
would love to take you with me once Fi isn’t so insane about
security.”

“I can understand why she’s a bit…strict about it. If
the Courts were to find out about this place…” I shudder at the
thought. My family would never come to find me here, but it would
be a good excuse to swamp the place with warriors and take all of
these people as their own. The thought of someone putting a hand on
Fi makes me sick, and Eir… I clear my throat, try to distract
myself from my vision and force a sad smile. “Well it’s just
dangerous, that’s all.”

Eir seems to notice my faraway look and starts
putting wires into the back of the speakers. “I know. That’s why
I’ve been trying not to give her too hard a time about it. Well,
lately,” he says with an almost evil-looking smirk. “So, take a
look at your haul there and tell me what you think!”

He’s obviously excited and I remember the bag in my
hands. I laugh and shake my head at my own stupidity and tear the
bag open; my mouth hanging open when I see the mass amount of music
inside. Old CDs from Florence + the Machine and Ingrid Michaelson,
to some people I’ve never heard of fill the bag. “Wow,” I mumble,
flipping one of the disks over and gasping when I see what’s under
it. “Where the hell did you get a Joan Jett album?!”

The look of relief that crosses his face almost
distracts me from the awesome piece of memorabilia in my hands. He
opens his mouth to speak when I hear a voice in the hall and hold
my hand up to stop him. “Wait a minute…”

“How’s everything going over here?” the voice says;
tough with an Irish lilt that I rarely hear anymore. “Do you need
anything?”