A Hollow in the Hills (4 page)

‘I’m not an idiot, Izzy. I’ve been watching you ever since the summer. It’s all different. And I’ve talked to Dylan. You don’t have a monopoly on him.’

No, she had to be bluffing. Dylan wouldn’t tell her anything. He wouldn’t! A surge of jealousy rushed through Izzy. Which was unfair because Clodagh was right – she didn’t have a monopoly on Dylan.

‘Dylan doesn’t—’

But Clodagh interrupted her impatiently. ‘I just need to know if it’s starting again. Because if it is, if you’ve brought it here, to
school
, of all places, I’m getting the hell out of Dodge.’

Izzy wanted to say it wasn’t fair, that she hadn’t
asked
for any of this, but that wasn’t entirely true, was it? She hadn’t asked for it, sure. Nevertheless it
was
her fault. It followed her. There was no denying it. She let the moment of silence drag on too long and Clo’s eyes narrowed, her gaze hardening.

‘Isabel Gregory!’ It was Miss Collins’ voice, their maths teacher marching on to the pitch in pursuit of them. ‘I’d like a word with you.’ But then she took one look at Izzy’s face and her expression softened. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you all right? We need to know what happened in the toilets. Charlotte’s barely conscious. Did you see or hear anything that can help?’

Izzy shook her head. ‘I just found her like that. I went in and she was lying there. Then the alarm went off. I don’t know what happened.’

And anything else … they wouldn’t believe. There hadn’t been time for anything else anyway. Miss Collins gazed at her for a long moment and then sighed, rubbing her head absent-mindedly.

‘Very well. We’ve called an ambulance and I’ll need you to come with me to the headmistress’ office to make a statement. This looks very bad, Isabel, and if you know anything, if you saw her with anything or anyone, we need to know now.’

‘She collapsed, Miss,’ said Clodagh, out of the blue, her eyes wide and her voice ringing with innocence. ‘She wasn’t looking well earlier.’

‘When? When did you see her, Clodagh?’

‘When she went in there. In the corridor by Mari’s … Mari’s …’ She choked artfully and made a show of composing herself, holding back tears. Damn, she was good. ‘I thought she was going to throw up. And poor Izzy’s had a dreadful fright, Miss. She found her in there and thought she was … was …
dead
. And then the fire alarm … Now everyone’s acting like Izzy did something when she didn’t. I mean, she couldn’t. She was only a minute or two ahead of us in there. She really ought to call her Mum … if this carries on.’

Miss Collins stiffened, her eyes sharpening on Clodagh. ‘Yes, well I’m sure there’s no need for that. Stay here and get some fresh air, Isabel. Come to the office when you’re feeling better, but before you go home, understand? For Charlotte’s sake, we have to find out what happened to her.’ She turned away, raising her voice. ‘All right, girls. Back inside now. False alarm. Come along. Sarah Lowell, stop that at once!’

She bustled off and Clodagh rolled her eyes to heaven. Maybe she was a better actress than Izzy had given her credit for. ‘You can thank me later.’

‘What did you just do?’

‘Do you miss everything? I just threatened them with your kickass lawyered-up mother, that’s what. Come with me. I still want some answers.’

‘No you don’t. I wanted answers once and all it got me was trouble. You have to stay out of this business, Clodagh. Please.’

‘Or what?’

Izzy pulled away. ‘Or you could end up like Mari.’

In stunned silence, Clodagh opened her mouth and closed it again like a goldfish, her eyes wide.

No matter what, Izzy
had
to get Clodagh to lay off. She couldn’t afford to get anyone else involved in the world of the fae. It was far too dangerous. And if something had followed her to the school, she needed to deal with it. And fast.

The stunned silence went on and on. ‘Please,’ Izzy whispered, instantly regretting saying it.

‘What-
ever
,’ Clodagh replied, with an attitude that said this was far from settled. ‘But eventually you’ll have to stop pushing everyone away from you. What happened to Mari wasn’t your fault. You weren’t even there. It wasn’t you and it wasn’t Dylan. It just happened and it was shit.’

If only she knew. But Izzy wasn’t going to tell her that. Everything was connected and Mari had been killed instead of her. If the banshee hadn’t come looking for her, Mari would still be around as Queen Bee of this school and they wouldn’t be having this conversation. Charlotte wouldn’t be carted off to hospital. And Clodagh wouldn’t be asking all these questions that were only going to get her in trouble.

‘Leave it, Clo. Please.’

With a snort of frustration, Clodagh turned heel and stalked away, leaving Izzy standing alone.

She dug out her phone. She needed to talk to Dad about
this. But she really didn’t want to.

But what choice did she have? The only other person she could have asked was Jinx.

And he was gone.

Chapter Five

Amadán

J
inx hated travelling with the Magpies. Their snide remarks and constant chatter grated on his nerves and made him want to smash their heads together. The problem was, they knew it, which only made them worse. They pushed to see how far he'd let them go. But the worst thing was their handling of the Sídheways. They never got it right.

They followed the paths across the city, in and out of Dublin and Dubh Linn, past the traffic and the shoppers, in front of the offices and along the rail line, over the motorway and up into the foothills of the mountains, further out than Jinx had ever gone. It made his city-bred skin crawl – all this green hanging over him, a world half-civilized, with the pavement on only one side of the road and intermittent lampposts. It was easier in daylight at least.

They passed a pub that had taken ‘Oirish' to the extreme,
no doubt for the benefit of the tourists, and then made their way through a gate, into a landscape of green and grey only – just scrubby fields and dry stone walls.

The next gate jumped them by several miles and about an hour ahead in time. They were sloppy that way, the Magpies. It set his teeth on edge.

‘You're really crap at this,' Mags told Pie, who muttered an obscenity and pointed to the summit of the hill on which they were now standing. Wind snatched his actual words away, but Jinx caught the gist. How could he not?

The entrance to the Amadán's hollow stood at the top. It figured – they all preferred high places, vantage points. When the whole island had been covered in forests, the hills and mountaintops offered the only clear spaces, the only way to see those approaching, the best point from which to attack if necessary. Forests invited ambushes. Everyone knew that, even a city-born fae like Jinx.

Only a few chose low-lying locations – Holly and Silver preferred the city centre and the advantages it gave them. Jinx suspected that it was a kind of smug superiority on Holly's part, a snub to all the others – ‘Come and take me if you can.' Silver just couldn't stand anything rural or quiet. She thrived on sound, on noise, on the music of the city.

‘How far up?' he asked.

‘All the way. See those big rocks?'

There was always a marker of some kind. Often humans did it as a way of warning others of what lay beneath; sometimes
his own kind did it for much the same reason. ‘Stay away or else,' with a slightly different subtle and not-so-subtle inflection. Who wanted a shower of humans hanging around with their iron and their fire and their bad attitudes?

‘We don't mix,' Silver had told him while he'd been trying to chase thoughts of Izzy Gregory out of his head with an industrial amount of loud music and alcohol. ‘We never have. It always ends badly, usually for both parties. They fear us, and they hate anything that reminds them that they can fear. You, of all people, know how that goes.'

Of course he knew. The fae barely tolerated relationships with fae from different castes. His own parentage – Cú Sídhe and Aes Sídhe, the lowest and the highest of the Sídhe hierarchy – was proof of that. Human and Sídhe? They didn't mix at all. Not unless they had to. Like Brí and David Gregory, a union that had produced Izzy and nothing else of any good. The fae hierarchy was strict and unyielding. Those who flouted it were punished and so were their children and their children's children. Human and fae … it never ended well. And he knew it more than anyone.

Stay away or else.

Jinx looked up at the huge stones jutting from the barren landscape. He wasn't even sure where he was anymore – if he was still in Dublin, or in Dubh Linn or somewhere else altogether. They might have been the gates to the hollow, or portal stones to take them there, or simply a warning to others to stay away. The stones were a matt black, unnaturally smooth.
They made his stomach twist unpleasantly.

‘Come on then,' said Mags. ‘He doesn't like to be kept waiting.'

Beyond the black stones, a cairn of white stones rose, gleaming in the afternoon light. In the front there was a gap, like a mouth waiting to swallow him, darkness beyond. Pie went first, stepping through the half-seen shimmer and vanishing. Mags waited, watching Jinx. Taking a resigned breath, Jinx followed. What choice did he have?

He didn't have to like it, but Silver had named him her emissary and this was his job now. Running around, a representative, guarded by the Council's word and available to all who wanted Silver on their side. He was safe enough while Amadán and the others wanted to play nice. While the Council, such as it was, still remained intact. An illusion of safety perhaps, but it was all he had. So long as everyone played nice. It was a crappy job.

The darkness of the hollow closed over him and the world changed.

He'd expected something dark and primal, like Brí's hollow on Killiney Hill or perhaps the barely governable chaos of the Market. He'd expected grim customs of the past, the blood of enemies painting the walls, enslaved humans or a throne made of bones.

But while the walls wore the traditional lining of bronze, there was a thick, emerald-green carpet underfoot instead of packed dirt or cold stone. Mahogany dressers, occasional
tables and bookshelves lined the corridor, interspersed every so often with a comfortable-looking leather chair. It felt like stepping into some kind of mothy old gentleman's club out of the nineteenth century. It looked like the set of a Sherlock Holmes movie.

From the distance Jinx could hear music, a harp being played with skill and ingenuity, a lively tune that echoed down the halls.

Be careful, he warned himself. It was too easy to fall for the Amadán's friendly façade. Nothing could charm like the trickster, and nothing was as dangerous. Wolfish teeth lurked behind every single smile.

The Magpies stopped at a wooden door, the surface so highly polished that they were reflected in it. They knocked, waited, fidgeting. Mags lifted one foot to rub his shoe on the back of his trousers, a perfunctory attempt to shine it. The door opened slowly, and a butler stood there, with a Jeeves-like look of efficiency, everything about him trim and elegant.

Pie sniffed loudly and then wiped his nose along the length of his sleeve. The aura of disgust rolled off the man, though his face betrayed nothing at all.

‘The gentlemen are here, sir,' he said in a voice that carried with stiff formality. ‘Along with your guest.'

‘Send them in, Rothman. Send them right in. This can't wait.'

The Magpies preened as they swept by the butler. Rothman looked as if he'd willingly snap both their necks given half a
chance, though once more he said nothing.

Human, Jinx realised. The man was human, but he clearly knew what his employer was, and all about those who served him. Rothman wasn't in the least bit surprised, nor was he enthralled. No trace of magic lingered around him, neither to compel him nor bind him. He was here willingly.

The Amadán sat in another of those leather chairs with a high back and wings, though this one, Jinx thought, was bigger than the others. It had been placed in front of a period fireplace with a roaring fire, though where the smoke was going to, Jinx didn't like to imagine. He had a large glass of brandy in one hand and an unlit, fat cigar in the other. With an expansive gesture, which made Jinx wonder how much alcohol he'd already consumed, he motioned towards the other chair and it took a moment for Jinx to figure out it was here for him. He sat down, trying to appear more relaxed and at ease than he really was.

‘Have a drink, Jinx by Jasper. Rothman will get you whatever you want.' Jinx, however, shook his head. He didn't want a drink, nor did he need anything that might addle his brain right now. The Amadán might like to play at being the gentleman of leisure, but he was a skilled player of the Council's games. Though Holly might be gone, those games were far from over. Only an idiot would think that and Jinx, while not the brightest star in the Sídhe galaxy, was not an idiot.

‘How can Silver help you?'

‘Ah, that's the question, isn't it? That's what she wanted you
to ask. And there'll be a way I can help her, no doubt.' He waved the unlit cigar at Rothman and the Magpies. ‘Off you go, all of you. This is just for young Jinx and myself.'

They all obeyed at once. Jinx had never imagined that the Magpies even knew how to be obedient, let alone were willing to do it, but they went without a murmur, without a word of complaint or even a snide look. Rothman closed the door behind him with a discreet click.

‘A butler?'

‘Palace-trained, I'll have you know. I picked him up about a hundred years ago. So long as he doesn't leave the hollow, he's fine. And he wouldn't. Devoted to me, is Rothman. And I for one wouldn't be without him. Now, that drink? Would you prefer whiskey?'

‘No, thank you.' Even for one of the Sídhe, taking food or drink in someone else's hollow was fraught with danger. Poison was the least of the threats. ‘Can I cut to the chase and ask why you invited me here?'

‘They were meant to ask politely. I hope they did. That's the trouble with Suibhne Sídhe – bird brains. But no harm done.' Jinx wasn't so sure, but decided to let the matter lie. He waited while Amadán drained his glass and refilled it from the crystal decanter on the table beside his chair.

‘You felt the disturbance last night, I presume? Indeed, who among us could have missed it? That much power, rolling over the city. Even the humans picked it up. They might make the wrong interpretations but their scientific instruments don't
lie. An earthquake, they said. Did you ever hear such a thing? Do you know what that means?'

‘Shaking earth.'

‘Yes. And I fear it shook with reason. Very good reason. Come with me.'

He rose from his chair so swiftly that Jinx had to scramble to his feet and follow. Amadán stopped at a small and unobtrusive door on the far side of the room, rather than the one by which he had entered. Jinx's eye had glanced over it for a cupboard, but as Amadán undid a series of locks, he grew doubtful.

The room beyond was carved from solid granite, cold as a freezer and very dark. Amadán entered first but stepped back to usher Jinx inside. It was more than a store room, but less than a room. At first Jinx wasn't sure what he was looking at. In the centre was a large block of stone. It was only when he recognised the swollen shape lying on it that he realised. It was a morgue. Although what Amadán was doing with a morgue adjoining his study was a question he knew instinctively not to ask.

Her skin looked pale and grey as if colour had been leeched from it by an extreme drop in temperature. It had left her puffy and bloated where she should have been bird-like, delicate. But that wasn't the worst thing. Her face had been clawed away, bleeding holes where her eyes should have been. Blood covered her hands and stained her blue and brown striped hair. She'd done this to herself. The way her muscles
had stretched, ratcheted with terror and agony, the way her jaw stretched far too wide and wouldn't close … She'd been terrified. So terrified she'd scratched her eyes out before she had frozen to death.

‘Who is it?' he asked.

Amadán circled the slab, his hand stretched out as if he wanted to touch it, but couldn't quite bring himself to do so. ‘Her name was Jay. She worked for me. A beautiful singing voice, like a songbird. And she could dance. She'd hypnotise you when she danced. So understand, I am
most
put out.'

It was stomach-churning. No one sane could do this. Jinx could think of a few possibilities who might think it was the most hilarious thing ever, but most of them were thankfully dead. Or Holly.

But someone – or something – clearly had been amused, because why else would one of the fae terrify someone like that to death?

‘I don't—' Jinx's voice caught unexpectedly in his throat and he had to cough. For one desperate moment he thought he might throw up, but he pressed down the nausea. Because that would go down brilliantly, wouldn't it? So professional. ‘I don't understand, Lord Amadán. You can't believe
I
did this?'

Amadán's eyes widened in utter surprise. There was no guile there. ‘You?'

Jinx felt instantly foolish. If Amadán had thought that, he'd probably be dead already, or, if he was really unlucky, wishing for death.

‘No,' said Amadán and his voice grew bleak again. ‘You couldn't do this. No Cú Sídhe would, not even if he was rabid.' He looked back at the corpse. ‘I know what did this. The trouble is, it's impossible. They're gone. Thousands of years gone.'

‘What are?'

‘We called them the ‘Firshee'. Like the banshee in a lot of ways. Sometimes they were known as the Fir Bolg. They target girls for preference, the younger the better. They feed on terror. You can see the result.'

He'd often wondered about the banshee. Bean Sídhe in the old language. It meant ‘woman of the Sídhe'. Always women. Their voices could kill. Hell, everything about them could kill but it was the voices they were known for, their weapon of choice. One of them had killed Dylan's sister – just to get at Izzy, or because Izzy wasn't there – out of pure spite. Holly had always kept a few on as assassins, but mostly the rest of the Sídhe avoided them. He had always wondered, if they were the women, where were their men? He had only asked once, when he was very young, and Holly had ordered them all to beat him, all the banshee in her service. They'd done a thorough job. They'd enjoyed it. But he had never found out. Now perhaps he had an answer. Albeit a cryptic one.