Reunion (55 page)

And in the end, if Destiny can't be fought,
Ren decided,
whatever I say, whatever I do, will be the right thing.

"You can go." He turned and raised his voice a little and addressed the others staring at him with blank, soulless eyes. "You can all go."

"We have to protect them," the woman said.

"I'm here now," he said. "I will take care of them. With their papa."

As he spoke, he felt the presence in his mind fading. It was as if they knew he was theirs now, and no longer needed to force their will on him.

The woman closed her eyes for a moment, as if she was listening to someone Ren couldn't hear, and then she opened her eyes and nodded. "You are family."

"Yes. I am family."

"We are so tired."

Ren wondered if he was talking to the woman or if she was voicing the words of the babies who had taken over her mind and the minds of everyone else in the hall.

"Go," Ren said. "They will be best protected if you leave this place."

"But who will watch over us?" The doctor spoke the words, but he realized he wasn't speaking to her. He was talking to
them
.

And they were exhausted. It must be taking a lot out of them to control this many people at once. No wonder, the moment they believed he was committed to them, they withdrew from his mind.

"I will."

It seemed to satisfy the woman, if not the babies. With no obvious signal that Ren could see, the crowd began to move toward the door, staring off into space, their minds still dulled by whatever enchantment the babies had managed to work on them. He stood back against the wall, the knife behind his back, and waited for the hotel staff to leave. There was still no sign of Marie-Claire. Nor of Darragh.

He waited for the last of the shuffling mob to leave, expecting the voices to return, but they stayed silent. A soft thud as something landed on the carpet at his feet caught his attention. Ren looked down, wondering what had caused the sound, and then he picked it up. It was the knife from the glass case downstairs, he realized, unsure of why it was here. The last time he recalled seeing the knife was when Marie-Claire told him it was the blade they used to test the psychic link between the twins they bred.

He studied it curiously, turning the
airgead sídhe
blade this way and that to examine the intricate carvings etched into its surface. With his thumb he felt the tip, wondering how sharp it was.

"Ow!" The blade pierced his flesh. It was just a tiny pinprick, really, but the
airgead sídhe
burned his flesh ...

And cleared the fog from his mind.

Ren looked around and realized he was standing in a dark, empty hall and, until a moment ago, had been prepared to devote his life to protecting two babies he'd never laid eyes on ... two babies he was destined to kill.

They'd taken him over as easily as the doctor and the rest of the people here. Probably as easily as Marie-Claire. And Darragh.

Mama tried to hurt us ... papa is here now ... he'll protect us ...

There was nothing in Ren's dream about fighting Darragh off.

Nothing else is going according to the dream. Why should that be any different?

Clutching the
airgead sídhe
blade once more, Ren pushed off the wall and began walking down the long corridor until he reached the nursery. The room was lit by a security light outside that filled the room with shadows. Rain lashed at the windows and in the center of the room sat the
mara-warra
cradle he'd seen so often in his dreams.

If my Destiny is so set,
Ren wondered,
why do I feel like I have a choice here? Why do I feel like I could just open my mind and let them make me their slave?

It came to Ren, then, what the Hag had meant when she said she wouldn't have to
make
him kill the babies.

And that's what really frightens you, Rónán of the Undivided ... Even in your vision, you are doing what is right of your own free will.

Ren closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the
kuji-in
. The skill he'd mastered, when he was searching for a way home. The skill he'd used more times than he cared to count to block his thoughts and his presence from the
Matrarchaí
and the powerful Empress and Emperor twins he'd killed trying to save as many
sídhe
as he could.

Rin for strength of mind and body. Hei to focus psychic power in order to mask one's presence. Toh to balance the solid and liquid states of the body. Sha to heal oneself or another. Kai for complete control over the body's functions. Jin to focus the mind's telepathic powers. Retsu to harness one's telekinetic powers. Zai to bring harmony by merging with the universe.

And Zen. Enlightenment and understanding.

He'd finally worked that last one out. Ren opened his eyes and stepped into the room, armored now against anything they could throw at him.

Destiny had chosen well, he realized, because there was probably no other living soul in this realm, or any other, so uniquely equipped to do what must be done.

It shouldn't be so easy to take a life.

Rónán approached the cradle that rocked gently in the center of the room. Darragh watched him from the shadows, overcome by a sense of having been here before.

But this was altered. In the dream he remembered seeing everything by moonlight, not the lightning of an angry storm. In the dream, he'd been mildly concerned about what his brother intended to do.

The reality was quite different. The walls were glistening with blood. The air reeked. Marie-Claire stood over the cradle cooing to the babies, so enchanted by them she hadn't noticed him, or his brother, enter the room.

Darragh wanted to help his twin. He knew he should, but he was powerless to fight off the need to protect the monsters he'd spawned.

They needed him. They needed someone to protect them.

You'll protect us, won't you, papa?

Of course I will.

Rónán reached the cradle and stopped to study it for a moment. It was the cradle they both knew so well from their dream - oak, carved with elaborate Celtic knotwork, inlaid with softly glowing mother-of-pearl.

Only now it was smeared with something that smelled like fresh blood.

Marie-Claire looked up, as if she'd only just realized Rónán was there.

"Aren't they beautiful?"

Rónán held the
airgead sídhe
blade behind his back. Darragh wondered if it would be enough.

Enough for what?

Don't you worry about Uncle Rónán, my darlings. He won't hurt you.

The
airgead sídhe
blade caught the light in odd places, illuminating the engraving on the blade.

"They're lovely," Rónán replied. "They look so innocent. Almost human."

Marie-Claire smiled. "You don't seriously mean to hurt them, do you?"

He glanced over his shoulder. Darragh wondered if Rónán knew he was standing in the shadows by the door.

Rónán turned back to Marie-Claire. "It has to be done, Marie-Claire. You know that."

"They are everything we hoped for. More even. They can force Partition. They are the start of our brave new world."

"They're not human."

"They are the next step in human evolution."

"They are a testament to your hypocrisy," Rónán told her. "You want to destroy the Faerie, but you needed to create Faerie monsters to do it. You've deliberately bred the
sídhe
into every set of Undivided that you could for the past two millennia, just so you can be rid of them."

Marie-Claire's smile faded. "You seem remarkably well informed about us, Rónán."

"I make it my business to be well informed about the people who seemed to be bent on destroying my life and everyone in it."

"You are being a touch dramatic, I fear. Still ... perhaps there is a place for you in the new realm. Your brother will be joining us, after all."

"No, he won't."

"I think you'll find he has no choice in the matter. He's a father now. He has responsibilities. Isn't that right, Darragh?"

He should have known better than to believe Marie-Claire was unaware of his presence. Realizing there was no point in hiding any longer, Darragh stepped out from the shadows.

What's going on, papa? Why is our uncle angry with Mother? Doesn't she love us?

Rónán turned to look at him for a moment. He didn't seem in the least surprised to find him here, either.

"So," Marie-Claire said, "the vision comes to pass."

She must have the Sight, too,
Darragh thought, taking a small step sideways. Nobody seemed to notice, neither Rónán, Marie-Claire, or the twins.
I wonder if the future she sees has a different ending to the one Rónán and I have shared all these years. And if it is different, whose version is going to win in the end?

It will end how we decide, papa.

Rónán shook his head. He still had his arm and the knife behind his back. Darragh looked away and continued to sidle alongside the cradle toward Marie-Claire. He tried to fill his mind with thoughts of love and affection for his daughters. He forced no hint of his despair or horror to show through, afraid they would see through him if he dwelt on it for too long.

"This is not my dream, Marie-Claire," Rónán was saying. He was keeping her engaged and her attention away from his brother, although whether it was deliberate or by coincidence, Darragh wasn't really sure. "You were never in any vision I ever had."

"You've always been in mine, Rónán. Right up until you die."

"You can't kill me," Rónán reminded her. "If the babies want their father around so they can enjoy your brave new world, I get to live. If I die, he dies, remember."

Marie-Claire didn't seem to have an answer for that so she turned to Darragh. He froze. "Talk to your brother, Darragh. Explain this to him."

"They are innocent," Darragh said to Rónán, just as he was meant to. There was no emotion in his voice. They were just words. Words he always said in his dream.

Do I utter the same words in Marie-Claire's dream? In Rónán's?

Would it be enough to allay their suspicions?

"How can you say that?" Rónán asked, staring at his brother in disgust. "You saw what they did to Brydie."

"They didn't know. Didn't understand ... She was trying to smother them."

"And you haven't thought to ask
why
?"

Don't let him hurt us, papa. Is he going to hurt us? We can't tell. We can't tell what he's thinking.

"They are death, Darragh. They've killed once already. They'll kill you and I as soon as they don't need us any more. And if
she
has her way," he added, pointing at Marie-Claire, "they'll be the death of billions upon billions more."

Why is he saying those things about us, papa? Doesn't he love us?

Why can't we tell what he's thinking?

Not now. Let me take care of this.
Darragh shook his head. "They won't ..." He didn't finish the sentence.
Why
can't
they tell what Rónán's thinking?

"Partition is not the end," Marie-Claire said. "It is a new beginning."

"There's a few million Faerie out there who might disagree with that," Rónán said.

Marie-Claire reached out a hand to him. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Rónán. Your brother won't let you.
They
won't let you do it. You're not a tool of the Hag. Neither of you are. You don't have to do her bidding."

"Even if she's right?"

"What is right?" Marie-Claire asked. "You've seen this moment a thousand times in your dreams, I suspect, and how much of it is what you saw? Right is what
is
. Embrace what Destiny has offered you."

"I am embracing it," Rónán told her. "I will end this."

"I won't let you."

"How will you stop me?" he asked as he raised the blade.

Darragh looked down into the cradle. One of girls was stirring - they were too alike to tell which was which. She opened her eyes to stare up at him, her face framed by soft dark curls, her expression disturbingly alert and aware for one so young. Her eyes were strange ... blue with no pupil and no whites at all. Just a pool of blue terror that had already killed once and would kill again and again until they'd achieved their goal.

"I won't stop you," Marie-Claire said, "they will."

The other baby's eyes flew open. Darragh realized what she was doing. She was ordering them to kill Rónán.

No! Wait! If you kill Rónán, you'll kill me too!
He barely completed the thought when Marie-Claire's hands flew to her ears and she cried out in agony. Her nose was dripping blood, her tears ducts were leaking blood. She dropped to her knees, screaming something incomprehensible. Darragh watched in horror as they pulverized Marie-Claire from the inside out. He hadn't meant to order the babies to kill Marie-Claire. He'd told them not to kill Rónán.

Apparently, you were either with them or against them, and against was a death sentence.

It took Marie-Claire a few long and agonizing minutes to die. Neither Darragh not Rónán moved to aid her. There was nothing they could have done, in any case.

When she finally stopped moving, a bloody, broken heap on the floor at the head of the cradle, Darragh turned to Rónán.

He met his brother's eye and knew, at that moment, what they must do. Funny how all this time, he'd believed that one of them would try to kill the babies and the other would try to prevent it. He realized now it was nothing of the kind. The dream had just been a rehearsal, a chance to perfect their script as he distracted these evil-spawned monsters so his brother - who for some reason could block them from his mind - moved in for the kill.

"I'll kill you if I have to, Rónán, to stop this." He said the words, just as he always did in his dream.

Rónán nodded in understanding and replied exactly the way he was meant to, dismissing the empty threat. "Even if you could get across this room before the deed was done, Darragh, you can't kill me without killing yourself, which would achieve precisely what I am here to prevent."