“When he looked at me, I started to cry because I could tell he knew. He put his arm around my shoulders, and kept walking. He said he’d only be disappointed in me if I felt shame for what I was, who I was. I blurted it out, like a big announcement. ‘I’m gay!’”
She laughed a little, stroked Marco’s cheek. “What did he say?”
“He said he hoped one day, when I was grown and ready, I’d find a man worthy of me, and not to settle for less. ‘Be true to yourself, Marco,’ he said, ‘and anyone who tries to make your truth a lie or shameful isn’t worth a single one of your thoughts.’”
Now, in turn, Breen pressed her face to Marco’s shoulder as her eyes filled.
“It sounds like him. For so long I nearly forgot what he sounded like, what he was like.”
Breathing out, she drew back. “Coming here, coming back, it’s helped me remember.”
“It meant everything to me, that walk home with him.” Sitting, Marco brushed his hands over the flowers. “It meant everything to me, Eian.”
Breen sat with him. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I couldn’t really thank him because I got all choked up. I wanted to thank him, talk to him again when he got back. But…”
“He died. We didn’t know he died, didn’t know about Talamh. But he never came back.”
“I didn’t want to tell you, baby, because you were so sad. You waited and waited, got sadder and sadder. So I get to tell you now, and thank him now. It’s beautiful here, and he’s home, right? It’s beautiful even with that place hulking over there.”
“He’s home, and it is beautiful. When it was first built,” Breen continued, as she shifted to study the ruins, “when they first lived and worked and worshipped there, it was a holy place. A place for good works, for art and prayer and healings. It was some who lived and worked and worshipped there that changed it. Corrupted it, turned it into a place to be feared. A place of intolerance and persecution and torture.”
“There’s always somebody who just has to screw up the good stuff, and find other somebodies to help them do it.”
“I can hear them,” she whispered.
“Who?” His eyes widened as he stared at the ruin. “In there?”
“They’re stirring. I can’t hear clearly, but … Wait here.”
“No way, no way. You’re not going in that place.”
“I’m not going in.” But she got to her feet. “They’d like me to. They think I’m not ready to stand against them. They’re probably right, so I’m not going in.”
“Let’s just stay away from it.” He jumped up, took her arm.
“I can’t hear clearly, not from here, and I need to. I swear I won’t go a step farther than I know is safe. Stay here. Bollocks, stay with Marco. Stay here.”
She broke away, hurried through the graveyard, dodging the stones, moving closer to the ruins. And to sounds, the thrumming coming from it.
She stopped when she felt the air change—from light and fresh to heavy and dark. And she saw movement through the slits of windows, through the wide opening that had—she knew—once held thick wooden doors carved with holy symbols.
Like thin shadows shifting and sliding.
And like an echo—dim but not distant—she heard voices, the chants, the screams, the calls to dark and damned gods.
On the fresh autumn air, she smelled warm blood and the burning of human flesh.
Bells tolled. Drums beat.
Very slowly, she lifted her hand, pressed the air. And felt the pressure of what pushed back.
She started to reach for her wand, unsure if it would be enough, if she would. Then turned at the sound of a horse coming fast. She watched Tarryn ride straight to her, eyes fierce, hair flying.
“Get back from there. Foolish child, get back!”
“They can’t reach me. They can’t get out. Yet. Can you hear it? Can you see?”
Tarryn leaped off the horse, gripped Breen’s arm. “Not another step. Aye, I can hear them, I can see them. It’s too soon, and too much. This is Yseult’s doing, by the gods, her and her twisted coven. Do you have anything with you?”
“A few things, just some stones and charms in my saddlebag. My wand, my athame.”
“Get what you have and make it quick. I would wish for five more, or Marg at least to make us three, but we’ll make do.”
She turned to her horse, opened her saddlebag. “Go now! Be quick about it. Minga, you stay there with Marco.”