Resistance (5 page)

I stop my thoughts in their path, knowing I am
heading towards a breakdown I don’t have time for. My mother always
told me to stay strong and not show any weakness or fear. That
meant no crying. “Dolans don’t cry,” she told me a thousand times.
The last time I cried was nine years ago when my Gran died, and I’m
not going to break now. Instead I focus on what I can do to make
things better. I remember then that I had planned on searching for
Gran’s journals before Uncle Seamus reminded me of Hugh’s execution
today. Pulling myself out of my memories, I rinse my coffee cup,
fill a thermos with the remainder of the pot and make the trek up
two flights of stairs to the third floor, where the library takes
up one whole side of the house. Call me lazy if you like, but who
wants to gingerly carry a full cup of coffee up two flights of
stairs? Not me. I take them two at a time with the thermos lid
tightly closed; liquid sloshing happily against the sides.

Just pulling the pocket doors open and inhaling the
smell of all the books held inside makes me happier than I’ve been
in days. This is my favorite room in the house, and possibly my
favorite place to be in the whole world. When I was younger I spent
entire days hidden away in the corner, curled up on the sofa with
my favorite books. I know all too well the luxury I’d been afforded
by being born a Dolan. If I was born to someone living in one of
the Fae camps, I would only be allowed to read a handful of books
They deemed acceptable for humans. I wouldn’t have practically
memorized Little Women from reading it so many times before I was
ten. I wouldn’t have completed the works of the incomparable Jane
Austen, traveled to Hogwarts with Harry Potter or devoured the
amazing retellings of fairy tales by Marissa Meyer. Books are my
sanctuary from the world, and I have always embraced them with my
whole heart.

This house is full of memories of both my parents and
grandparents, but it’s here in the library where I can almost feel
my grandmother standing beside me, smell her scent of roses and
hear her laugh at me when I pick up a book I’ve read at least five
times to read once more. It’s here that I can still feel her
essence all around me. Looking around, I can hear my grandmother’s
voice telling me about how she and Granddad made this room for
future generations, so we wouldn’t lose the knowledge of the human
race. My grandparents customized this room when they first came to
the city, and then they went to the old public library and cleared
as many shelves in as many sections as they could. Gran said it
took them the better part of a month to get it set up the way she
wanted it, and Granddad never complained once.

I head to the back of the vast room, set the thermos
down on a coffee table sitting in front of the battered old sofa I
convinced my father to drag in here from the attic when I was six,
and start opening the heavy drapes that adorn the numerous windows
in the room. Bright winter sunlight floods the room and I can see
the dust motes flying through the air. There are wooden bookcases
built into the walls and bolted to the floor, making it look like
an old public library. I take it all in and find a sense of calm
taking over. All of our family papers, my grandmother’s old photo
albums, and memory books are all stored in the closet in the corner
of the room. That’s where I plan to start my search.

Chapter 3—Fi

February 2102

I back out of my bedroom into the dark hallway and
gently pull my door closed behind me. Just because I can’t sleep
doesn’t mean my brother has to be awake, too. I turn towards the
kitchen and bump into a very tall someone, almost falling over in
the process. Warm hands grasp my shoulders before I hit the ground
and bring me upright again.

“Fi?” comes from out of the darkness.

“Eir? Did I wake you? I tried to be quiet,” I
respond, feeling my way towards the kitchen and coffee.

“No, you didn’t. I just woke up early,” I hear from
right behind me. Reaching the kitchen, I flip the light switch on
and blink in the sudden brightness. I hear Eirnin muttering behind
me, “Coffee, coffee, coffee, please,” and I laugh at his enthusiasm
for caffeine. I head for the coffee maker to get the brew started
and turn back to him as he sits at the table.

“How would you like to take a run with me? By the
time we get back, coffee should be ready,” I ask, as I pull out the
homemade corn muffins our Aunt Ruth sent over the previous night
for us. I watch my brother as he stuffs the top of a corn muffin
into his mouth whole and seems to swallow it without chewing, and
can’t hold in my laughter.

He looks injured for a moment. “Are you laughing at
me, sister dear? And when I was just about to say I’ll go for a run
with you despite the uh…shall we say, aggressive pace you set.”

I shake my head at his antics. “How you can’t keep up
with me, I’ll never know. You’re over a foot taller than I am!”

He laughs and polishes off the rest of his muffin;
picking up another one from the plate on the table and waving me
towards the back door. “I’ll join you and maybe we can spare the
poor bastard who’s assigned to tail your every move the workout he
most likely doesn’t need. Who’s
my
shadow today, by the
way?” I stiffen at the bitterness in his voice, hating that I am
making him so unhappy by trying to keep him safe.

I toss him his gloves while digging my own out of the
drawer and try to avoid setting off his temper. He definitely
doesn’t need to know that I never bring a guard with me on my
morning run. “Here—don’t want you to catch cold. Do you want to
grab a sweater or anything?” He’s got a black, long sleeved thermal
shirt on with a hunter green tee shirt layered on top, but it can
be bitterly cold before the sun makes an appearance this time of
year.

“I’m sure you’ll keep my blood pumping hard enough
that I’ll be sweating in no time. Just a hat for me, I think.” He
sighs dramatically and gives me a gentle shove towards the back
door. “Quit worrying. You’re going to give yourself an ulcer, I
swear! Let’s get out in the freezing cold and run until our lungs
collapse, shall we?”

I laugh and let myself be herded outdoors, glad to be
spending time with my brother. He’s been shunning me a lot these
days, and while I know he’s frustrated with being guarded all the
time, I will not fail my father again. I don’t think I would be
able to handle it if something horrible were to happen to him. He
is the most important person in my life; the one person I wouldn’t
be able to go on without. He doesn’t know this, though. So I try my
best to take his occasional silent spells and avoidance in stride.
I nod to the guard posted at our back door and do a few stretches
while my brother pulls the winter hat over his wavy black hair and
adjusts it to his liking with the corn muffin sticking out of his
mouth. His hair is getting to be a bit long; it’s almost to his
shoulders now and I don’t know how I didn’t notice. I’ll have to
cut it for him soon, I guess. One more thing my parents always took
care of that I didn’t think about before they left.

The cold air bites at my exposed face and neck and I
start jogging in place to get my blood circulating. “You ready
there? You know, you really shouldn’t eat while we’re running. One
of these days it’s all going to come back up on you.”

He shoots me a huge grin, pushes the muffin the rest
of the way into his mouth, shakes his head and with his mouth full
to bursting says, “That sounds like a challenge to me.” Bits of
half-chewed muffin fly out of his mouth and I back up to remain
clear of the splash zone.

Laughing, I shake my head at him and set off. “Come
on, then. Let’s see how far we get before you’re begging me to slow
down.”

Eir is walking while I jog before we even reach the
path in Central Park where I run every day. I don’t mind going slow
if it means I can have his company for the morning. It soothes the
endless loneliness I’ve felt since my parents left, and I treasure
each moment. So I go at half speed and enjoy this momentary peace
between us while taking in the winter scenery. The city really is a
beautiful place to live when you stop and look around once in a
while. The air is crisp and clean, the sun is just starting to rise
overhead and everything looks brand new and ageless
simultaneously.

We carry on in companionable silence for some time
and I realize this might be the happiest I’ve been in months. We’re
rounding the first bend in the path by a gnarled old oak tree I
admire every morning, when I see a russet colored something on one
of the thick branches. I slow to a walk and approach the tree
calmly.

“What are you up to, Fi?” Eir asks, sounding
puzzled.

“Don’t you see that? What is it?” I ask him. I watch
amber colored eyes open and close slowly as they watch my every
move; eyes that seem to hold an unusual intelligence for an animal.
The hairs on the back of my neck are suddenly standing at
attention.

Eir is by my side, looking up into the tree with me,
and then he leans down and whispers, “It’s a fox. It’s not going to
hurt us. Can we keep going, please? I’m starting to not be able to
feel my toes.”

I let him drag me away from the tree, only looking
back once as we continue down the path. He keeps his arm slung over
my shoulders, holding me to his pace, and I let him get away with
it for the time being as I find myself still distracted by the fox
in the tree behind us. I remember Sean almost stepping on what
Uncle Seamus called a fox in our backyard what feels like forever
ago. I can’t put my finger on what it is about it that has my
interest piqued. I can’t help but feel the answer should be
obvious, but it’s eluding me.

We haven’t gone very far when I hear a rustling sound
and glance back to see the fox from the tree behind us on the path.
It stops in its tracks; eyes locked with mine when it sees me
looking. This is most definitely not normal fox behavior in my
opinion, and I stop walking and turn around. “Shoo!” I yell at the
fox, getting annoyed with its pursuit. But instead of fleeing, it
sits down on the path. The fox continues to sit on the path, looks
up at me calmly with its too keen eyes and I take a step
forward.

Eirnin takes hold of my elbow and drags me back
toward him. “Fi, what is your deal with the fox?”

“Something isn’t right about this animal, Eir — don’t
tell me you can’t tell...” I trail off. I pick up a rock from the
ground and fling it towards the offending creature, but Eir tries
pulling me forward at the same time I release and it veers off
course. I hear what sounds like the fox equivalent of laughter and
sputter, “Is it
laughing
at me now?” I look up at my brother
to see him barely containing a smirk. The fox is still sitting on
the path studying me. Thoroughly unsettled and feeling slightly
insane, I let my brother pull me forward and pick up my pace again;
doing my best to put the fox and its odd eyes out of my mind.

Pulling ahead of Eirnin, I hear him sigh and mutter,
“Damn it, why am I being punished if you’re angry with the fox?”
But he starts to run, keeping pace with me.

When we get back home the sun is completely up and
the temperature has risen a few degrees, but we both head straight
for the coffee as soon as we’re indoors. I head to the pine table
with my coffee and help myself to one of the remaining muffins;
motioning for Eir to join me. He sets his mug on the table across
from me and then collapses into the chair. “I still don’t
understand why you put yourself through this every day voluntarily.
My legs feel like rubber,” he whines theatrically at me.

“The rubber feeling would go away if you did it more
often, Eir. Give it a week and I swear you’ll love it,” I tell him,
only half kidding. I know my brother well enough to know there is
nothing on this planet that could make him abandon his bed every
morning to run around the park with me.