Resistance (18 page)

Eirnin looks up slowly and shrugs. “Nothing at all,”
he says quietly. “Just sitting here being invisible.”

Lifting a brow at his funky, depressed state, I
glance toward the stairs from where I just came to make sure Fi
isn’t watching me with distaste before dropping my voice. “Well I
hate to burst your bubble, but you’re doing a shitty job.” He looks
up at me in confusion. “I can see you just fine.”

He opens his mouth to reply but just ends up making a
small chuckling noise, then shakes his head. “Where are you running
off to—” he drops his voice, and I have to wonder if he’s worried
about Fi overhearing us, too, “—all by yourself?” He claps a hand
over his mouth like he’s a child who just said a bad word.

I smirk at him. “Into the dangers of the backyard.
Serious shit, man. Better get a dozen guards to come with me.”

He laughs and leans down in his seat to kick the
chair beside me out a few inches. “Would you like to join me for
some coffee and complaining?”

I can’t help but echo his laugh at that one, and I
nod. “Sounds like the most enjoyable thing I could possibly be
doing today.”

Far too excited about being able to talk to somebody,
Eirnin leaps out of his seat and runs to the coffee pot. “How do
you take it?” he asks, rambling on before I can reply. “Are you
hungry? I’m sure Fi has something delicious my aunt baked for her
squirreled away somewhere.” He sets a mug that looks like it was
painted by one of Seamus’ boys beside the coffee and starts digging
through the cabinets.

Finding humor in his hunt, I take my seat and watch
him flounder; completely ignoring the weary look someone shoots me
as they retreat from the basement and out the back door to retrieve
more supplies. “I take it black, thanks.”

The sound that falls out of his mouth is inhuman, and
he scowls at me as he returns to the coffee pot. “Ack,” he grunts.
“You’re like Fi. She would at least dump some sugar in it, though.”
He fills the mug and scoots it across the table to me as though
it’s a dead bird, and I hold in another snort. He’s nearly seven
feet tall and smarter than anyone in this place, but I am suddenly
reminded of his age as he pulls out a plate of muffins with
excitement. “Aha!” he cries. “I knew I’d find the stash! Help
yourself.”

He sets the plate down between us and resumes his
previous position, and I wave my hand for him to start complaining
as I pick up one of the blueberry muffins. “Where to begin?” he
says, and I snort. “I just wish my sister would wake up and realize
I’m not a child that needs to be swaddled and protected,” he
continues seriously; ripping his own muffin in half. “It’s
ridiculous that she’s wasting manpower having me tailed
everywhere.”

I shrug, tear the top off the sweet muffin and bite
into it. “Meh. Don’t take it too personal. She’s just…” I shake my
head. Why I’m defending her, I have no idea. My mistakes with my
own little sister have been poking at me since I first watched
these two interact. That must be it, I tell myself. Ellie is
haunting me. “She just doesn’t want you to get hurt. You’re pretty
much all the girl has left.”

He nods but I can tell the words don’t register
fully. He is just as stubborn as his sister. “I could help if she’d
let me,” he says defiantly. “But she won’t. So I’m not engaging if
I can help it. For now.”

Shaking my head, I wonder how these two haven’t
killed each other yet. “You have to bug her. ‘Prove’ you can pull
your own weight and all that crap.” I roll my eyes. “In case you
haven’t noticed, she’s a bit of a control freak.”

He outright laughs at the statement and nods. “You
really do know my sister.” He yanks a single blueberry out of his
treat and sets it back on the plate. “Control freak might be too
mild a term.”

“I’m just trying to be politically correct, here,” I
defend with a chuckle and lean back in my chair. Fi and Sean come
up from the basement and I expect one, if not both of them, to turn
and yell at me for even looking at Eirnin, but they are so involved
in their own conversation I’m not even sure they see us. Maybe Eir
is slightly invisible around here, and I’m unseen by
association.

He shrugs again and continues tearing berries out of
the bread. He is totally caught up in it and back to looking rather
depressed. “Did she even tell you what’s going on?” I ask before
taking another bite.

A humorless, hollow laugh breaks from his mouth and
he frowns. “Fi tell me something about things that are happening in
my house? Oh, Flint, you’re so funny.”

I quirk a brow and look at the kitchen table. It
would appear at this point I have two options, and neither one has
a wonderful outcome. I could tell the kid the truth and risk being
ripped a new one by his psychotic older sister, or I could simply
sigh, ‘oh that sucks’ and have him believe I see him as a toddler
like she does.

I’m about to go with the latter option, but when I
open my mouth to follow through, I get to watch him yank the final
blueberry from the bread with a totally miserable expression on his
face. I clench my jaw and sigh. Screw it, I think. I believe I’ve
hidden enough of the truth from younger siblings to last a million
lifetimes. What’s the worst Fi could do, anyway?

“Want to find out?” I ask. I’m not sure if I’m
responding to his statement or answering my inner question.

Eirnin’s head snaps up and his eyes brighten
considerably at the thought. His head makes a small nodding motion
before he shakes it, clearing it. “Won’t that get you into trouble
with Fi, though?”

I snort. “You say that like I’m not already.” Unsure
if I’m convincing him or myself, I push my chair back and
contemplate how violently I will be maimed for this. “Come with
me.”

He’s out of his seat so fast it falls on the floor
with a loud clang. He winces and scrambles to pick it back up;
settling it under the table before vaulting the kitchen table and
ending up right behind me. “Lead the way, friend,” he says. The kid
is practically bouncing at my heels.

With a small grin I gesture for him to stay a few
feet behind me as I head back into the Iron Hell being assembled in
the basement. The wave of toxins crashes into me and I gag, but try
to shake it off as best I can. Fi and Sean are nowhere to be seen,
and any other person assisting them has since departed for a break.
I wave my hand so Eirnin knows the coast is clear and push against
my temple. I pity the poor girl who will soon occupy this
space.

Eirnin jumps down the last three steps and goes a bit
ahead of me, looking into the room at the end of the short hallway.
I follow after him and lean against the wall, trying to ignore the
ache taking over my body. From my angle I can see the partial shape
of a cage — a solid, flat piece of iron with a few bars melded onto
it, holding up another flat piece of toxic metal. The final wall is
still lying on the ground beside a small blowtorch.

“What is all of this?” he asks quietly; poking his
head in to see the cot, rolled up on a flat piece of wood. His brow
furrows, making small lines appear on his forehead as he looks at
me for answers.

“Nothing major,” I say sarcastically. “We’re just
kidnapping one of the Winter princesses and hoping not to die in
the process. She’s smaller than Fi and passive and will probably be
scared to death of us, but we’re going to put her in here anyway.
She might die from the fumes but hey, it’s way safer for us.”

His eyes grow wide as saucers and his jaw goes limp.
He stutters out a few incoherent babbles and starts shaking his
head, like he’d really rather not believe me. “Kidnapping one of
the Winter princesses?” he blurts loudly, looking stunned. “Why in
the hell would they do that? Are they trying to get us all
killed?”

Thank God someone else thinks this is a terrible
idea. “It was mostly my idea,” I tell him. He looks like he’s about
to call me stupid when I continue. “Sean’s idea was to kill her in
some gruesome way and leave her on the king’s doorstep as revenge
for possibly killing your parents. I merely tried to suggest a
safer route.”

Eirnin takes a few large steps away from the scene,
shaking his head still. “Fi wouldn’t…” he starts, but his words
trail off in quiet acceptance. He bites down on his lower lip. “I
really wish I could convince her to stay away from that ass.”

I look up at him, shocked by the comment. “So I’m not
the only one who thinks he’s bad news?” I ask.

“No, definitely not,” Eirnin continues. He looks like
he’s going to be sick. “I’ve never trusted him. I don’t care that
he’s family. He’s hiding something, something big. I know you might
not understand, but I know for sure—”

“Hey,” I cut him off. He’s more upset by this whole
scenario than I thought he would be. “I trust you kid. I don’t like
him either. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Eirnin nods slowly at my statement and seems to calm
down, if only a little. “I just wish she’d listen.”

“Have you met your sister?” I ask, attempting
futilely to lighten the tone again. For the second time today I’m
struck with the realization I’m talking to a sixteen year old. “She
does what she wants, most of the time.”

His mood just darkens further. “Have you met her,
Flint?” he asks. “She does what she feels she has to. I don’t know
if she ever even considers what she wants.”

I frown at the tone he’s taken on and immediately
want to yell at Fi for her unintentional neglect of this kid. We’re
about to enter another damn war, and it’s obvious to everyone but
her that he needs his sister more than ever. I pull in a breath,
about to reply — maybe even say Sean was just trying to avenge his
parents — when I see a head of long black hair barreling towards
us. I groan. “Oh, joy.”

Eirnin looks confused by my remark and he follows my
gaze. His shoulders tense at the sight. “Yeah, that about sums it
up…” he mumbles.

Fianna stomps down the hall like an angry boar. She
doesn’t even look at her brother; rather, she gets right in my
personal space and scowls up at me like I’m the devil
incarnate.

“Hey there,” I say, just to piss her off, and offer
her my best shit-eating grin.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she replies loudly;
her voice bouncing off the walls and coming back at us.

“What, no hello? Rude.” I click my tongue at her.
Eirnin takes a few steps back and I nod at him to let him know it’s
okay to run for his damn life. I’m fine standing here trying to
make smoke come out of Fi’s ears. “Well, I was having a
conversation with your brother…” I shrug one shoulder, “but it was
interrupted. How about yourself?”

Her face is taking on a slight purplish hue. “What
part of ‘I don’t want my brother involved in this’ did you not
understand, Flint?” she asks, freakily calm.

“Oh, I understood you perfectly, love. You were very
clear.” Her eyes narrow into an even angrier glare when ‘love’
falls out of my mouth, but I continue on before she can whine at me
not to call her that. “Funny thing, though, um…he’s not
stupid.”

“I am perfectly aware he’s not stupid!” she shrieks;
her hands balling into fists. I keep my eyes locked on hers and
wait for her to take a swing at me. Oh, that would be fun. “I don’t
want him hurt by any of this! I—” She stops herself suddenly and
forces her fingers to uncurl. She looks away from me, to the wall
at her left, and takes a big, calming breath. She’s silent for a
moment and then continues, much quieter. “Look, I’m sorry I snapped
at you. I know Eir is perfectly capable of stumbling into things on
his own.”

I had my response at the ready until she added that
last bit. I blink at her and cross my arms. “What do you mean he
can ‘stumble into things’?”

She gives me an incredulous look at the question and
releases her tongue from between her teeth. “I mean, it was wrong
of me to assume you brought him down here.”

On any other occasion, I would have been happy to sit
back and watch her almost-apologize. But right now it just makes my
headache worse. My eyes roll up to the ceiling and I cover them
with one hand. She can’t be serious. When I bring my eyes back to
her level, she’s staring at me and waiting for a response. “Uh,” I
begin. “No… You assume correctly.”

She pauses. “What?”

“I brought him down here,” I admit openly, again
preparing to be attacked with knives. “I told him of your cousin’s
stupid plan, and I tried to assure him that no one is gonna be
gutted in the process.”

She gapes at me for a full minute and lifts a hand as
if to point at me. It’s shaking wildly; her mouth hanging open in
an attempt to reply. Eventually she manages an, “Of course I was
right,” and turns on her heel; muttering profanities under her
breath.

Now, a smart man would just drop this altogether. A
smart man would let her go off and have her hissy fit, and then try
to talk some sense into her in the morning. A smart man would
respect the fact she carries multiple weapons that could inflict
fatality upon anyone she so desired.

I’ve still never admitted to being a smart man.

Instead of doing the sensible thing, I push off the
wall and storm after her. When my feet hit the ground of the main
floor, I hear the screen door slam with force and follow it. I
catch up as she’s taking off her sweatshirt and throwing it quite
violently against the patio chair. She yanks a hair tie off her
wrist and I jog to catch up, skidding to a halt in front of her.
She freezes with both hands behind her head pulling her braid up in
a bun, the rubber band caught between her front teeth. Her eyes
lock on my face and challenge me to say something.

“I understand that he’s your little brother,” I
begin, “and you want to keep him safe. But he is not five years old
anymore, Fi, and treating him like a baby is putting him in more
danger than you’d like to admit.”