Resistance (2 page)

“They are with him, sister. You know where. You
should go now,” Aoife says, sounding somber. I jump up as
understanding finally dawns. I know where I have to go to find my
sons. I only hope they fare better in this twisted fate than the
rest of my family. I am running now, through fields of wildflowers
and down a path to a valley where there is a cottage hidden in the
side of a hill, listening to my sister’s whispered words the entire
time. With each step I take I am surer that I will never recover
from what I’m about to witness. Normally when I reach this door, I
bound inside for a joyous reunion. I’m terrified of the devastation
I can feel waiting for me there now.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that I am
safely asleep in the arms of my lover. This is a horrific nightmare
that I know I must let play out before I can wake from its grip.
I can do this
I tell myself, and turn the knob. Again, it’s
the smell that hits me first; the pungent metallic stench of blood
floods my senses. I realize I’ve involuntarily closed my eyes and
am crying, shaking my head back and forth. I don’t need to see the
husks left behind to know there is no one left alive here. I hear
my sister’s voice in my head telling me I must open my eyes. To do
what I must to save them, I have to witness their demise. Choking
back a sob, I force my eyes to open and see what is left of those I
love most in this world.

There are no words to describe the agony that tears
through me as I look upon the still forms strewn like refuse across
the great room of the cottage. My sons, Patrick and Seamus, lie
close to one another like broken dolls. I step closer and see that
there are parts of them missing, and I am suddenly and violently
ill. Gagging and sobbing, I kneel next to what is left of my boys
and press a kiss to each of their foreheads, trying to ignore the
blood and the gaping wounds. I press my hands into my eyes, shaking
with sobs, and my sister nudges me once again.
How can there be
more?
I wonder in horror.

I make myself stand and head to the back of the
house. Here the smell of blood is strong as well, and I am struck
again by the utter violence that took place in what was previously
a quiet retreat. When I enter the kitchen, I find I can still be
shocked. The bodies here have clearly been posed after death. The
tall, dark haired man is clutching the smaller form of a woman to
his body. They are propped up on the floor against a cupboard,
looking peaceful except for the yawning slits in both their throats
and the pool of dark, red blood they’re sitting in. I listen as my
sister whispers for me to look down upon the dead bodies of my
lover and myself, and vow vengeance for the loss of the life I
wished for.

Jerking awake, I bolt upright in bed bathed in a cold
sweat and look around wildly. I feel a little calmer when I see the
inhalations of the man sleeping soundly in the bed beside me. There
are tears on my cheeks and I feel my heart breaking in my chest as
I look down at the sleeping face on the pillow, knowing that I have
to hurt him to save us all. He rolls onto his back and flings an
arm over his head as I study the perfection of his face; memorizing
every detail to treasure later. Battling the sobs that long to
wrench themselves free of my chest, I lean down and press a kiss to
his lips before I slip out of bed and tiptoe to the door without
looking back.

My legs feel like they are made of lead as I trudge
through the wildflowers and back to the home I share with my
husband and sons. I feel weighted down by the magnitude of the
undertaking that has been sent to me in the vision. I think about
everything that is left to do before I can really relax and have to
stifle a new sob. Two hearts broken already, and next I have to
uproot my sons and husband and move them across the ocean to
America without telling them why. Once there, I must bide my time
and make my plans to stop the Fae from inflicting their rule on all
of humanity.

Chapter 1— Flint

July 2101

There is something unbearably miserable about summer
months. It has been a steady eighty degrees for the past week, and
nightfall never seems to aid in dropping the temperature. I am
hanging limply over a branch in a dangerously high tree and
probably look dead from below, but it is the first time I’ve been
comfortable this season. What the humans below think of me is not
my concern right now.

Considering most everyone on the ground wants my kind
dead, this is probably not the smartest thing I’ve ever done.
Though, neither was entering a compound of Fae-Hating-Crazies when
you’re a Kitsune.

Yes, that’s a long story, and I’m not even sure I
have all the correct details about how this all started. I lived in
Scotland for a good portion of all this nonsense and, foolishly, I
believed whatever happened to fall out of my father’s mouth.

From what I understand, around the mid two-thousands,
the humans got into another giant tiff. No one knows exactly what
they were all fighting about this time, but most assume it was
something trivial. Religion, possibly. Or some girl causing drama
between brothers and accidentally causing a war. It might have even
been the Great Big Foot debate, for all it matters. To be honest,
after a few centuries no one really gives a shit about what you
were bickering about. Just that you were, and that while you were
doing so, you created a pissing match that escalated into what was
titled, “World War III”.

My people were not exactly happy about this. Humans
tend to be rather narrow-minded and forget they are not the only
living creatures inhabiting the planet. They also tend to forget we
are not the only ones who pull energy from nature, and throwing
grenades at each other is a damn good way to muck up the oxygen
supply.
Oops
.

The Fae had far more than enough by that point and
figured it was high time to speak up and step in. My father’s exact
words were that ‘we came in peace’, and because they were all so
stupid, we simply had to put them on leashes and take over. I
believed him at first. Then I spoke to a few. They’re not nearly as
stupid as he’d led me to think.

In fact, I would later come to find out that
everything he told me about this whole issue was false. The humans
were not being pigheaded at all, but oblivious. They’d believed
wholeheartedly that the Fae merely wanted to help, when in reality,
they wanted control. And they got it-right out from under the noses
of the mortals. Some of the humans are still happily oblivious;
perfectly content living under Fae rules and regulations, taking
the abuse or praise they have been raised to believe they
deserve.

Others, however, are not so keen on this yet. The
people on the ground beneath me are prime examples of this. A
rebellion. Not every Court member has heard of these gatherings
yet, and several who have believe it’s all just talk. “There is no
possible way any number of humans could all agree on something, let
alone stand up for it,” is their excuse. “They’re not that
smart.”

I beg to differ. See, I’m a rare breed — an idiot who
abandoned his family and Court to come see these people, based
solely on rumors and theories. I didn’t know any of them existed
until I got here, and now I don’t know how to enter. Based on the
guards and poorly placed iron spikes in some trees and grasses, no
one really wants to hear from an Autumn Court reject who would like
to offer his services. ‘I’m here to help’ didn’t exactly work in
their favor the last time.

Putting it lightly, I really didn’t think this move
through. I never said I was a genius.

Neither are the people here though, honestly. Again,
even if most of the Fae have either not heard of, or do not believe
these rebellions are happening, there are a few paranoid ones who
do. And trust me, they would love to waltz in and put a stop to it.
And as of right now, the only things protecting them are some weak
- and I might add easily distracted - larger humans who walk around
in circles with bows and iron-tipped arrows with constipated looks
on their faces. In my animal form, a marginally small Fennec fox, I
was able to walk right past one of them. I almost pity these
people…

Right now a giant man, who I believe is the ‘leader’
of this group, is talking quietly to who I assume is his wife. She
is a tiny little thing with a chestnut bob for a haircut, and
standing next to him she looks about fourteen years old, although
her eyes show she is much older. The man is a full head taller and
her polar opposite, with his inky black hair and Irishman skin.
They both hold an air of importance that could challenge some
royalties I’ve met, but the husband is vibrating with excitement
and nerves. The wife is nearly impossible to read, but I think
she’s more anxious than eager.

A man walks up to the couple and the husband kisses
his wife’s cheek; whispering something in her ear. She pulls in a
breath and nods before going back through the kitchen and
disappearing from sight. The gentlemen start talking and, for some
reason, I abandon my comfortable branch and leap down a few to
eavesdrop. The heat and the iron must be getting to me.

“—
saying, Patty, is that you should
probably tell Fi
something
before—”

“No
,” snaps the leader, ‘Patty’, with a shake
of his head. “She is safer this way. She doesn’t have to know about
this.”

“I’m not sure that’s true—”

“Seamus, please…” It’s a quiet plea, and judging by
the look ‘Seamus’ gives him, it’s genuine. Looking at them closer
now, it’s obvious they’re brothers. The lilt in their voice is
discernible even from my perch seventy yards away, and they each
use the same mannerisms and hand gestures as they speak. They are
highly animated. I have to wonder how the older one ended up with
such a stoic other half.

Seamus sighs and nods but doesn’t move away. He is
not happy that his brother is keeping secrets, this much is
obvious, but he stands beside the man in spite of this. Family
loyalty. How nice.

No more than fifteen seconds pass and his wife is
back, tailed by a girl who is a blend of them both. I’ve seen her
before. She sneaks out in the middle of the night with her father
all the time to practice her aim with a bow. She’s not the best
shot I’ve seen in my lifetime, but she’s young. She’ll learn. Her
name is Fianna. She is only a bit shorter than her mother and has a
braid of ebony black hair that hits the small of her back. Her eyes
are striking, a deep green, and they hold more knowledge and stress
than anyone her age should be carrying. She hides her emotions
well, but watch her a bit and you can see the pain as if it were a
flashing neon sign above her.

I am ashamed to admit I have been doing quite a bit
of watching her lately. And I am ashamed of that because
it
’
s not like I
’
ve been watching her to establish if she would be a
friend or foe if I were to approach. No. It is strictly because I
believe she is one of the most beautiful young ladies
—
human or Fae
—
that
I
’
ve seen in a very long time, and
evidently I have a tendency to stare. What a vain little fox I can
be
…

The wife moves back to ‘Patty’s’ side and turns back
to their daughter. The room is stock still and silent; even a human
could hear a pin drop in the deafening quiet. All eyes are on the
couple when the husband begins, and I chance another leap down. No
one notices.

“You all know why we’re here. The time has come for
action. To be sure we are prepared, Maeve and I will be heading out
to scout conditions. We shouldn’t be gone more than a fortnight,
and in our absence, Fianna will be seeing to things. If we don’t
return, you all know what to do. Look after yourselves and be
ready.”

The color drains out of Fianna’s face and she clears
her throat as she moves forward. Patty looks to the other man and
says, “You’ll watch after them, right?”

Seamus smiles. He looks a bit sad, but he slaps the
other man on the back and nods. “I’ll do my best to keep them safe,
Patrick.”

There is a big part of me that is thankful the giant
isn’t actually named ‘Patty’. I might’ve spared a moment to think
this over further, but I didn’t have the time…nor the interest, for
that matter.

Fianna, who heard only Seamus’ last remark, bristles.
Her lips purse and she straightens up, and I almost laugh. She’s a
feisty one. “Uncle Seamus,” she begins, “you
know
you’ll
have your hands full with your own brood. Eir and I will be just
fine on our own. Please don’t worry yourself.”

Terrible things would be done to the young lady if
she were to speak to an authority figure that way outside of this
city, but her uncle just smiles and nods; giving Patrick a knowing
look before moving further into the kitchen towards the coffee
maker. In spite of her attitude, she looks like she might cry when
she meets her father’s eyes. “I didn’t realize you’d be gone for
two weeks,” she says shakily. “Has the plan changed?”