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Authors: Jennifer Fallon,Jennifer Fallon

The Undivided

BOOK: The Undivided
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“F
OR THE FAVOURITE

Contents

Prologue

It shouldn’t be so easy to take a life.

Chapter 1

‘If we had to take our clothes off, couldn’t we…

Chapter 2

‘You’re wounded, Leath tiarna.’

Chapter 3

‘How long have you been here at Temair now, Brydie?’…

Chapter 4

With a final and eminently satisfying shake of his thick…

Chapter 5

The only thing that made losing one’s magic bearable, Trása…

Chapter 6

‘Better the blood of two innocents, than the blood of…

Chapter 7

‘There are things you need to know, Brydie,’ the queen…

Chapter 8

By the time breakfast was almost done, the plans for…

Chapter 9

Normally, Trása loved to fly. Or rather, she loved to…

Chapter 10

To avoid the paparazzi waiting outside the main gate, Ren,…

Chapter 11

Somewhat to Trása’s amazement, Dublin Guided Limousine Tours had a…

Chapter 12

Every morning, just before dawn, Jack O’Righin climbed out of…

Chapter 13

It took Trása more than a day to find the…

Chapter 14

Ren hurried through the dining room, down the long polished…

Chapter 15

They ended up simply walking around the block, but it…

Chapter 16

The day dragged for Darragh, made worse by the wound…

Chapter 17

When Ren gave his statement to the Gardaí several hours…

Chapter 18

Brydie came to Darragh’s room later that night. She let…

Chapter 19

‘What the hell is going on here?’

Chapter 20

‘What does one have to do to get thrown in…

Chapter 21

Brydie woke with a dreadful headache. The room was dark,…

Chapter 22

Hayley wasn’t sure when she became aware of her surroundings…

Chapter 23

‘Anything coming?’

Chapter 24

‘I’ll kill you if I have to, to stop this.’

Chapter 25

‘I’m very disappointed in you, Ren,’ Eunice said, taking the…

Chapter 26

Groggy and unsettled by his nightmares, Ren woke to the…

Chapter 27

‘Better the blood of two innocents, than the blood of…

Chapter 28

Filled with trepidation, Ren followed Niamh and the big scary…

Chapter 29

Darragh took the better part of a day to reach…

Chapter 30

Trása was intensely relieved to be heading home. She stepped…

Chapter 31

Ciarán came at Rónán with a vicious flurry of sword…

Chapter 32

‘How did you find me?’

Chapter 33

Killing things always evoked mixed feelings in Sorcha. If she…

Chapter 34

Hayley’s fog lifted slowly to be replaced by light-headedness and…

Chapter 35

Most of the blood in which Ren was drenched wasn’t…

Chapter 36

Darragh managed to sneak back into his chamber at Sí…

Chapter 37

The Giant’s Causeway at sunset looked exactly like the entrance…

Chapter 38

Marcroy Tarth was an oddity among the Tuatha Dé Danann.

Chapter 39

‘Have you been to many other realities?’ Ren asked, as…

Chapter 40

Darragh glanced around at the gathered Druids, the rest of…

Chapter 41

As the high priestess began the long ceremony to wind…

Chapter 42

Trása’s summons to visit her uncle, Marcroy Tarth, arrived via…

Chapter 43

‘My lord Ciarán! You’re back!’ Colmán exclaimed.

Chapter 44

It was uncomfortable, being a mouse. One was always being…

Chapter 45

Trása circled the shepherd’s hut near Breaga once to be…

Chapter 46

It was weeks before Darragh saw Rónán again. It was…

Chapter 47

When Ren recovered consciousness, it was to find Sorcha leaning…

Chapter 48

Hayley hated sitting in her armchair by the window, like…

Chapter 49

Jamaspa managed to break out of Sí an Bhrú late…

Chapter 50

Trása’s rough landing hurt. A lot. She’d not expected to…

Chapter 51

Although he knew things about this realm, thanks to the…

Chapter 52

Warren’s home proved to be an upmarket detached suburban house…

Chapter 53

The air in this realm was wrong.

Chapter 54

Ren drove carefully, acutely aware that time was not on…

Chapter 55

Jack O’Righin had an abiding mistrust of the law and…

Chapter 56

It took some time to get the truth out of…

Chapter 57

‘She’s an in-patient at St Christopher’s Visual Rehabilitation Centre,’ Jack told…

Chapter 58

‘You speak nonsense, Marcroy Tarth.’

Chapter 59

‘You’re not going in there alone,’ Sorcha announced.

Chapter 60

Dinner was served before five every evening in St Christopher’s Visual…

Chapter 61

There was a moment … a split second of suspended time as…

Chapter 62

Driving turned out to be trickier than it looked.

Chapter 63

The Audi was parked at the far end of the…

Chapter 64

Pushed through a crackling curtain of light so bright even…

Chapter 65

By dawn, Darragh was in agony. He was chilled to…

Chapter 66

‘God … what happened?’

Epilogue

Brydie woke to a world that was tinted purple. For…

 

There are some real places in this story (obviously), including the Castle Golf Club in Dublin. While I’m sure they’ll forgive me for carving up their fairways with an imaginary car chase, the stone circle hidden in the rough on the ninth hole does not exist (that I know of), nor does St Christopher’s Visual Rehabilitation Centre, something you might have figured out if you realised why I called it St Christopher’s.

If my Gaelic is correct, then it is thanks to the awesome talents and advice of the lovely Josephine Walsh. If it’s wrong, it’s my fault. Thanks also to Gillian Pollack for her advice regarding Druids, bards and ancient Celtic locations, as well as to Lyn Tranter, Mark Timmony, Sharyn Lilley and my daughter TJ, for their incisive advice and proofreading.

As for the Druids and the
Tuatha Dé Danann
, I don’t doubt for a moment there are many readers out there who are preparing to email me as we speak, telling me how wrong I got them. Please don’t. This is a story of alternate realities and, more importantly, a story about how things are distorted over time. Of course, things have changed over the past 2000 years. Even in a reality where the people cling desperately to the status quo, the very act of clinging will force changes on them they could not anticipate.

If, however, you actually know a genuine member of the
Tuatha Dé Danann
, by all means drop me a line. I’d truly love to meet them.

Jennifer Fallon

Oxford, New Zealand 2010

It shouldn’t be so easy to take a life.

The assassin pondered that thought as he approached the cradle rocking gently in the centre of the warm, candle-lit chamber. Their mother would have set the cradle in motion to soothe the twins before she left the room, trusting their visitor so profoundly that it would never occur to her the children might be in danger.

He reached the cradle and stopped to study it for a moment. The oak crib was carved with elaborate Celtic knot-work, inlaid with softly glowing mother-of-pearl brought up from the very depths of the ocean by the magical Walrus People, the
marra-warra
. It had been a gift from Queen Orlagh, centuries ago, and had rocked generations of twins to sleep since then.

Generations that would end now. Tonight. By his hand.

He glanced down at the blade he carried. The
airgead sídhe
caught the candlelight in odd places, illuminating the engraving on the blade. He hefted the razor-sharp weapon in his hand. Faerie silver was useless in battle, but for this task, nothing else would suffice.

Warmed by the fire crackling in the fire pit in the centre of the large round chamber, the twins slept peacefully, curled together like soft, precious petals, the left one sucking her
thumb, the other making soft suckling motions with her mouth, unconsciously mirroring her sister. The girls were sated and content, blissfully ignorant of their approaching death. Even if they had been awake, it was unlikely they would recognise the danger that hovered over them. The man wielding the blade above their cradle — the man who had come to take their lives — was a friend, a dependable presence they trusted to keep them safe.

‘You can’t seriously mean to do this.’

He glanced over his shoulder. A figure stood in the shadows by the door, a presence that was both alien and familiar. A presence so like himself it may have been nothing more than a corporeal manifestation of his own conscience.

‘It has to be done. You know that.’

The figure by the door shook his head and took a step further into the room. The assassin found himself staring at a mirror image of himself, except the face of his reflection was filled with doubt and anguish, while his own was calm and resigned to what must be done.

‘They are innocent,’ the anguished manifestation of his guilt announced.

‘They are our death.’

‘If preventing our death requires the death of innocent children, then perhaps we deserve to die.’

The assassin didn’t answer, turning back to stare down at the twin girls he had come to murder. It wasn’t
who
they were, but
what
, that made their deaths so necessary.

Why am I the only one who sees that clearly?

His conscience took another step closer. ‘I won’t let you do it.’ ‘How will you stop me?’ he asked as he raised the blade. One of the girls was stirring — they were too alike to tell which was which. She opened her eyes to smile up at him, her face framed
by soft dark curls. Her sister remained asleep, still peacefully sucking her thumb.

Which will be harder?
he wondered idly.
Killing the one who is asleep and ignorant of her fate, or the one staring up at me with that sleepy, contented smile?

‘I’ll kill
you
if I have to, to stop this.’

The assassin smiled down at the twins, dismissing the empty threat. ‘Even if you could get across this room before the deed is done, you can’t kill me without killing yourself, which would achieve precisely what I am here to prevent.’

He moved the blade a little, repositioning his grip. The candlelight danced across its engraved surface, mesmerising the baby. He was happy to entertain her with the pretty lights for a few moments. His mission was to kill her and her sister, after all, not to make her suffer.

There was a drawn-out silence as he played the light across the blade. Behind him, the presence that was both his conscience and his other half remained motionless. There was no point in his trying to attack. They were two sides of the same coin. Neither man could so much as form the intent to attack without the other knowing about it.

The girls would be dead before anybody could reach the cradle to stop him.

‘There must be another way.’ There was a note of defeat in the statement, a glimmer of acceptance.

‘I wouldn’t be here if there was,’ the assassin replied, still staring down at the baby he had come to kill. ‘You know that,’ he added, glancing over his shoulder. ‘You’re just not willing to accept the truth of it.’

The other man held out his hand, as if he expected the blade to be handed over, and for this night to be somehow forgotten. Put behind them like a foolish disagreement they’d been wise enough to settle like men. ‘They’re just babies …’

‘They are our death and the death of much more besides.’

‘But they’re innocents …’

The assassin shook his head. ‘Only because they lack the capacity yet to act on what they were bred to manifest. Once they are grown …’

‘Dammit … they’re your own flesh and blood!’

The assassin gripped the blade tighter and turned back to the cradle, steeling his resolve with a conscious act of will. It didn’t matter who they were. It’s
what
they were. That was the important thing.

It was the reason they had to die.

‘They are abominations, bred to cause chaos and strife.’

‘What we’ve seen in other realms may not come to pass.’

‘Of course it will,’ he said, growing impatient with an argument he considered long resolved. He reached into the cradle with his left hand to pull back the furs covering the children. The twin who was awake grabbed his finger. Her blue eyes smiling, she squeezed it gently. Behind him, his other half watched, too appalled to allow this, too afraid to stop it.

‘Help me, or leave,’ the assassin said, feeling the accusing eyes of his companion boring into his back. ‘Just don’t stand there feigning disgust, as if you had no part in bringing us to this pass.’

His nemesis wasn’t ready to give up just yet. ‘Perhaps what we’ve seen won’t happen here …’

‘I’m not prepared to take that risk.’

‘But you’re prepared to have the blood of innocents on your hands?’

‘Better the blood of two children than the blood of the thousands who don’t deserve to die.’ The assassin was still a little amazed he felt so calm. It was as if all the anguish, all the guilt, all the fear and remorse, all the normal human emotions a man should be battling at a time like this were a burden carried by someone else, leaving him free to act, unhindered by doubt.

If that wasn’t a sign of the rightness of this deed, he couldn’t think of anything else that might be.

He extracted his finger from the soft, determined grip of the baby girl, her skin so supple and warm, her gaze so trusting and serene it was heartbreaking.

But not heartbreaking enough to stay his hand. He raised the blade, transfixed by the guileless blue eyes staring up at him. And then he brought it down sharply, slicing through the swaddling and her fragile ribs into her tiny heart without remorse or regret.

He was quick and, he hoped, merciful, but the link between the sisters was quicker.

Before he could extract the blade from one tiny heart and plunge it into another, her twin sister jerked with pain and began to scream.

BOOK: The Undivided
4.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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