Resistance (8 page)

She shakes her head and walks past me, back towards
the city, and glances back when I don’t immediately follow. “Well
come on, Flint.”

I edge forward slightly to make sure she’s serious
before I fall into step beside her. The crunch of gravel is the
only sound between us and I am almost grateful. She isn’t exactly
what I expected — she’s far stealthier than I would have bet, and
makes my paranoia look practically non-existent — but I suppose
she’s close enough. This will be great fun, I can already tell.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she adds suddenly as we get
closer to our destination. The familiar headache picks up again at
the overwhelming amount of iron and I hide a wince. “My name is
Fianna, but most people call me Fi. I would appreciate if you’d
stick to that as well.”

I chuckle and shake my head. She turns to look at me;
quirking a brow and daring me to say anything other than agreement.
I’m tempted. “I’ll do my best,” I say instead, and smirk at her.
She rolls her eyes and continues forward, itching to punch me in
the jaw, and I follow.

Great fun, indeed.

Chapter 5—Fi

April 2102

Glancing at the man walking next to me, I find myself
studying his face and form. Part of me feels like I’ve seen him
before and I am racking my brain as to how that could be possible;
fingers tapping against my bottom lip as I think, instincts in
overdrive. My eyes take in the not quite short, slightly messy,
rusty-blondish hair, move over the sharp planes of his face, down
to his full lips, and then his startling golden brown eyes meet
mine. When he catches me studying him, he smirks.

“Goodness,” Flint says in a teasing tone, his
Scottish accent making his voice far too appealing for comfort.
“You could at least offer me a drink before you start undressing me
with your eyes, love.”

That’s when it hits me and I feel the insane urge to
go shout at my brother that I was right. “Oh, get over yourself!
You’re the fox from that tree! I knew there was something off with
that animal!” I sputter and he smirks again, making me consider the
merits of punching him in the mouth for a moment.

“I was hoping you’d figure that out,” he says,
looking way too satisfied with himself for my liking.

I silently count to ten like my Gran taught me when I
was a girl and I found myself wanting to hurt someone, and fight to
keep my face blank. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“For starters, it tells me you have good instincts.”
He looks at me intently and seems to be waiting for something to
happen. “It makes me believe in you a bit more, even if you do have
horrible
aim. And honestly it’s a weird topic to work into a
conversation, and I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”

My irritation reaches new heights for the day and I
hear the blood pounding in my ears as I stop walking altogether and
turn towards him with my hands balled into fists. “I
do not
have horrible aim! My brother messed up my shot!” I force myself to
breathe deeply and shake myself a little. I will not let this pain
in the ass faery get under my skin.

He takes a small step back, lifts a brow and tries
not to let me see his grin. “Hey, it’s nothing to be embarrassed
about. Don’t get so rattled.”

Seething silently, I turn and start walking towards
home again without looking to see if he’s following. My hands itch
for my dagger so I can show him how ‘horrible’ my aim is. I hear
him chuckle behind me as we round the final corner before my house
and I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I couldn’t very
well leave a faery in the park for someone else to find. Our
community vegetable gardens are there, and people will be on the
premises working within the hour. I did what I had to… right? I
wonder what my mother would have to say about this turn of events
and then wish I hadn’t. I cannot afford to show any kind of
weakness right now or ever; one of the many things she taught me. I
keep calm. He’s promised me he means us no harm, and I know he
cannot break a promise. Unfortunately I know I won’t be comfortable
with my decision until I talk to someone about this, which means
it’s time to see Uncle Seamus.

My father’s brother is an excellent judge of
character, and while he doesn’t want to be in charge, he is more
than happy to offer an ear whenever I need it. He’ll tell me if I’m
making a mistake by allowing this faery to join our ranks. I thank
my stars daily that I have him. If it weren’t for his unwavering
support, I don’t know what I would have done over the last few
months. Still, as open-minded and level-headed as he is, even my
uncle might take issue with me bringing a faery directly into his
house. I catch myself before I can sigh and glance at Flint. Maybe
I could knock him out for a little while? At least that would shut
him up. However it also might get me set on fire, so I file that
plan in the ‘not a good idea’ pile and move on.

The backyard we enter is situated so it connects my
uncle’s and my outdoor area, and there is always a guard posted
there as much as I wish it wasn’t necessary. Today it might be a
very good thing, depending on who’s on duty. I rack my brain and
try to remember what day it is and what time it is and who should
be stationed in my backyard enjoying a boring spring morning. Some
of these men have lived their entire lives inside these walls and
have never seen an actual faery. Most of them would like to keep
things that way. They were raised—hell, most of us were raised—to
believe all faeries were the enemy of humanity.

I see Matt Nelson leaning on the picnic table in our
backyard and curse my rotten luck. He is a burly father of three
who was good friends with my father. He is also one of the refugees
we’ve taken in from faery camps over the years. He still bears the
mark of the Summer Court on his forearm and isn’t exactly the
forgiving sort, not that I can blame him. It will take him mere
seconds to figure out Flint is a faery if they are left in close
proximity. I refrain from stomping my feet in irritation. Not one
single thing has gone right since I left my bed this morning.

I look Flint in the eyes and hiss at him, “Do not
speak, or I swear I will cut your tongue out.” He makes a show of
locking his mouth with an imaginary key and tossing it over his
shoulder, and I roll my eyes.

I wait until I know Matt can hear me and call out,
“Good morning! Could you ask Seamus to come out and join us?
There’s no danger or anything, I’d just like to talk with him.” I
keep as sincere a smile as I can muster on my face and he nods, and
with a distrustful glance in Flint’s direction he goes and knocks
on my uncle’s back door. Turning towards the irritating faery
beside me I tell him, “Do me a favor and don’t set anything on fire
until after I’ve convinced my uncle you’re here to help us, ’kay?”
as quietly as possible. He smirks at me and doesn’t respond, but at
this point I’ll take it.

I watch my uncle cross the backyard towards us and
wonder what Flint must think of him. Flint is about a half foot
taller than me and I’m just barely five feet-two inches; Seamus
stands at about six feet-four inches and he’s intimidating when you
first meet him. Or so I’ve heard. He keeps his inky black hair cut
close to his scalp, and his bright blue eyes wink out of a ruddy
complexion. He is a powerfully built man, not someone I would want
to cross if I didn’t know what a teddy bear he really is most of
the time. He gives me a small smile when he sees me move in between
Matt and Flint.

“Who do we have here, Fianna?” my uncle asks as he
reaches us by the picnic table.

Before responding, I turn to Matt and smile. “Could
you do me a huge favor please? I need someone to spread the word
that we’re going to have a meeting tonight at seven at the school.
Could you get some helpers and get that going? We’ll be okay here
until you return.” He nods and leaves to do as I asked. I release a
pent up breath and turn back to my uncle.

“This is Flint,” I tell my uncle, and then turn back
to Flint. “This is Seamus Dolan. You could call him my
advisor.”

Surprise doesn’t cover what I feel when my uncle
sticks out his large hand for Flint to shake. “I’ll refrain from
saying it’s nice to meet you until you two fill me in on why you’re
here.”

Flint doesn’t look intimidated at all as he shakes
Seamus’ hand, and I hold back a scowl. He does look a bit shocked
that Seamus is being personable, though. “Understandable,” he says
and looks at me. “Would you like center stage on this one?”

I glance between the two of them as they shake hands.
There doesn't seem to be any
manly-squeezing-the-bones-of-the-other-man's-hands going on, and
some of my self-doubt eases. "No, I think I'd like it better if you
explain," I tell Flint.

He stares at me for a second and then nods and looks
back at Seamus. “In short, I’ve been here for months and no one has
had any clue. I think you could benefit from my being here.”

Seamus' eyebrows rise when he hears that Flint has
been in the city for months and no one knew. "Can I ask what
exactly your motivation is for wanting to be here?"

Flint’s eyes harden a little. “Long story,” he sighs.
“In short, I hate my kind just as much, if not more than you all
do. And I think the way humans are treated like cattle is
disgusting.”

I look at Seamus as we listen to Flint, looking for
any sign of distrust on my uncle’s face, and I know I was right to
bring him here. "I think we can all agree that things need to
change," I say.

“Soon
,” Flint adds. “If we want to avoid
further unwelcome company.”

I try to keep the fear from my voice. “So you said
earlier. Do you have any input on how to keep that from happening
that you’d like to share right now?”

He chuckles a bit and then seems to collect himself.
“I have a few ideas.” He glances around and shakes his head. “To
begin with, I’d start rotating the guards on the perimeter. I’ve
caught them napping a few too many times. And your blocks in the
trees are a joke.”

I look at my uncle and notice his eyes drooping with
sleep. “Oh, Uncle Seamus, you were on guard duty last night! I’m
sorry! Go! Sleep! Please? I’ll see you at the meeting with Aunt
Ruth and the boys later.”

“I’m fine, lass. Don’t trouble your mind about me,”
he tells me around a huge yawn, and then scratches his head and
gives me a sheepish grin. “Then again, I suppose a little nap
wouldn’t hurt.” He turns to Flint and nods. “It was nice to meet
you after all, Flint. I’m sure we‘ll talk again sometime soon.”

“Likewise, sir.” Flint gives my uncle a seemingly
genuine smile and waits until he’s gone to look back at me. “I
don’t believe I’ve ever caught him sleeping. It’s the younger boys
you have trouble with.”

I sigh and nod, not doubting it for a second. “I
think we have some things to discuss. How would you like to come in
and join me for some coffee?”

Walking with Flint to the meeting to announce his
arrival is a quiet affair. I don’t know him well enough to know
what he might be interested in talking about, nor do I feel the
need to fill every spare moment with useless chatter. So instead of
worrying about it I take deep, cleansing breaths of the cool spring
air and the tension of the day fades a bit from my body. There is
something about spring that calls to me; the rebirth and awakening
of nature motivating me like nothing else does. Despite everything,
I feel content for the moment just basking in the quiet sounds of
life here.

Upon reaching the school where I teach the children
of our community four days a week, I feel a sappy grin plaster
itself on my face. I love this building inside and out. I love what
it stands for and what we accomplish here every day. It fills me
with a sense of purpose and joy like nothing else in my life. I
feel like skipping but hold in the urge, so as to avoid the
ridicule I’m sure would follow from my new faery friend. Instead, I
lead him around the back of the school to the cafeteria entrance
and pull the doors open; motioning him in ahead of me.