Brothers: Legacy of the Twice-Dead God (112 page)

Unlike the smooth and relaxed ease that
marked their dismount, the elves took their steeds with amazing
quickness and rigidity. Seneca and Avenour were more amicable when
mounting their horses, probably because I was still with them. The
elves slowly turned their horses and queued up to leave, waiting
for the only two to have spoken to lead them away. Shame rode their
auras. I had no delusions that the shame was not for the actions,
but for getting caught. Even the horses hung their heads down as
they walked slowly into even lines of Winter and Summer. Once
Seneca and Avenour took the head of the lines, Peter herded their
spies to the end by upending their cells and dropping them en
mass.

“Cahill, you may want to open the gate from
here. They will be moving with a quickness,” I said loudly,
intending my words for Marty. The moat became very turbulent,
thrashing roughly against unseen banks as the gatekeeper several
miles away rushed to open the cast iron gate with his recently
returned second.

“Yes, they will,” echoed Felix’s voice
through the Castle’s front and driveway as twin jets of power, as
thick as their horses were long, rose from the moat high into the
air, forming into fists. Orange and red, like the moat itself,
these were angry fists held by huge and muscular forearms. “Seth
said leave,” Felix’s voice all but shouted and the fists came down
hard into the ground on either side of the drive, emphasizing the
last word with thunder and making the earth tremble. The elves were
a blur of movement on the road as the spooked horses moved from
standing sullenly to scared for their lives. The spies disappeared
more slowly, sprinting at top speed after their lords.

We all watched as the elves raced through the
gate, disappearing through the veil between worlds a mere foot past
it. When I turned around to the Castle, everyone was looking at
Felix, shocked that he had made such a display, especially given
his condition. It may have sounded like Felix, but the one
responsible for the dramatic display of the Castle’s power was the
fourteen-year-old on one knee with his fists on the ground in the
doorway. Martin was hidden from view by most of those still inside
the moat.

Those of us on the outside had a better
angle. We could see the little man just inside the front doors.
Gordon just exploded with pride and we all applauded.

“Very impressive, Martin,” I called, as I
thanked the weapons and sent them to their home again. I wasn’t
alone in my praise; it was an impressive display. Marty stood,
blushing and slowly dissipating the energy in the fists back into
the moat. The aura of power that surrounded him, adding to his own
natural aura, was immense and kept anyone from rushing up to him.
Still, Ian eagerly moved up the steps with Felix maintaining a hold
on him to keep a safe distance. Enid was suddenly at the bottom of
the stairs, tear stains streaked her face. Fear, love, relief,
pride, and hatred all tore through her at once as she watched her
baby son do things she never wanted him to know how to do.

I didn’t either, Lady Cahill, trust me. And I
didn’t want to do this next bit, but if wants were wishes…

“Excuse me, gentlemen, but I’d like to have a
word with my brothers,” I said and sent Ferrin, Gordon, and Dad
across the moat to the steps. Then I setup some seriously powerful
opaque and soundproof shielding around us, sealing the four of us
into a twenty-foot square space.

I wheeled around on Kieran and let my anger
at him out, shouting, “You cannot keep doing this! You could have
been killed and Ethan with you because you felt you had to prove
something. I don’t need that Kieran. You were happy when I accepted
familial ties and when it doesn’t suit you, you want to throw them
away. Well family doesn’t work that way. You don’t get to decide
when your family gives a damn about you and when it doesn’t.” I
shoved an arm out, pointing at Peter. “Family helps each other in
trouble.” Then I pointed out at the glowing walls that kept us
blocked from the outside to where the Cahills still waited for
Martin to finish powering the Castle down.

I felt Dad push against my wall. He’d crossed
the moat when I wasn’t looking and wanted in. Frankly, he picked a
good time. I pushed the walls back to include him. “Family
supports, argues, fights, yells, jokes, pokes, picks, and screams,
but it does not run away and it does not shut out! You shut me and
Peter out and that cannot happen again.”

Kieran stared at me for a long moment as my
chest heaved, releasing the pent-up anger. His eyes darted back to
Dad for a moment as he, too, relaxed his own tension.

“You’re right, Seth,” he said, his voice
meek. “I’m sorry.”

“And you!” turning on Dad now, just as
angrily. Yelling at my Dad? I’d have to check my underwear for
brass later. “You’ve got some explaining to do! You shut me out
worse than he did. You shut out the world from me, tucked me away
in a tiny corner of a swamp in Georgia. What was next, Dad? Were
you gonna bring in prostitutes to keep my teenage hormones in
check?” My anger wasn’t releasing—it was building. I was not
handling this right.

“I’ve… quite obviously… made mistakes, Seth,”
Dad said, his eyes falling to his feet. “With both of you,” he
added, looking up to Kieran. It didn’t remove my anger, but it did
give me a pressure valve so that I could release it slowly.

“That’s a start,” I told him, calmly, smiling
tiredly. “The two of you, go, talk, use my house if you want. I’ll
call when Mom wakes up. I’ve still got some politicking to do
tonight. Just remember we all still have a lot to talk about and a
lot to do.”

Dismissing the shields, I turned to the
Castle and walked toward the doors just as Marty was dismissing the
moat. Peter and Ethan walked with me, leaving Dad and Kieran on
their own.

“What have you been teaching that boy?” I
heard Dad whisper.

“Surprisingly little,” Kieran whispered back.
“He is a natural talent.”

I wanted to yell that I wasn’t the topic they
should be discussing, but I realized that nothing here would be
fixed in a few minutes, or even a few hours. It had taken years to
build their relationship, years to break it. It would take years to
mend. This was a start. Not everybody got this much.

Enid rushed across the foyer, sweeping the
exhausted Martin up in her arms and smothering him in kisses before
even Felix or Gordon could get to him. And they were closer. Cries
of “Ma, you’re embarrassing me,” were ignored. Gordon rested a hand
on Felix’s shoulder as he waited for Enid to calm some, more for
comfort than support. Watching the four of them was enough to make
me stay back and let them have their time together. They definitely
deserved it.

In the meantime, we were still the chum in
the shark tank. Marchand decided he would take the point and
brought himself directly in front of me. At least he had the sense
to not block my direct line of sight to the Cahills. I glanced
around to find Ferrin sitting on a bench with Ian next to him,
still excited but sleep-dazed. The poor little guy was gonna fall
asleep on his feet soon. Asking Marchand to wait a moment, I
stepped over to the Ferrins.

“So what’d’ya think of all that?” I asked
Ian, sitting down beside him and smiling.

“It was really scary,” he answered, wide-eyed
for a moment. “Till Mr. Cahill punched those huge fists down and
they took off like rabbits!”

“’Cept that wasn’t Mr. Cahill, Ian,” Ferrin
said, tiredly. “That was Martin.”

“Really?” Ian asked, excited again, looking
for Martin on the steps. Ferrin chuckled softly.

“Ian,” I said, “Why don’t you take Mike
upstairs and put him to bed. The two of you are exhausted and
nothing too exciting is going to happen tonight.”

“Are you sure?” he asked me suspiciously.

“Yeah,” I answered, yawning myself. “Probably
be some shouting but nothing fun at all. Trust me. Take care of
your brother. He’s important to us.” It was funny how a few words
can be so important to someone. For as much as Ian idolized Martin,
the hero worship he had for his brother took a giant step forward
when he heard that. He bounced off the bench, grabbing Ferrin’s
hand and said, commandingly, “C’mon, Mike, off to bed, now!”

“See y’all in the morning,” I called to them
as they headed up the steps. Looking over at Marchand, I called,
“Can we reconvene in the dining room? I’m still hungry.”

“So am I, come to think,” squeaked Marty,
puberty finally hitting his vocal cords. I didn’t doubt it.
Channeling that much power took power in its own right. Gordon and
Felix laughed heartily and Enid ushered Marty in ahead of everyone
and Gordon pushed Felix in behind her. The herd followed a moment
later.

Felix put Marty at the head of the table and
shoveled food to that end. It was sweet. Maybe a little too sugary,
but I could use that. Been a rough day. I couldn’t tell exactly
what on the table smelled so good, so a little bit of everything
ended up on my plate. I stopped when I ran out of room, looking
over at Peter’s plate then Ethan’s, and didn’t feel so bad. They
were either covering for me or just as hungry. I’d have preferred
tea to the water, but I didn’t ask, ‘specially considering how late
it was.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Marchand?” I
asked and starting in on some sort of roasted poultry, chicken
maybe.

“For starters, you could tell us what
happened over there,” Marchand said, smiling his most
diplomatically. He was trying still; I had to give him that
much.

I looked at him for a moment chewing, trying
not to look too disdainful, but I was tired and there’s no telling
how much emotion would play across my face that I couldn’t control,
then. “Why don’t you tell me at what point you lost it so I won’t
be slogging through this again. I mean, you were there, right?”

“Yes, I was there,” Marchand said evenly.
“Pardon me if I seem suspicious but all around, your story is
surprisingly lacking in details.”

I snickered. “What details do you wish to
know?” I asked, knowing he wasn’t going to get all of his wishes
granted. I wasn’t the proverbial genie in a bottle.

“Why was your father in MacNamara’s kingdom,
for instance? How does one man, a boy at that, see to the needs of,
by your count, a million Fae and why would you do that? Weren’t
they just trying to kill everyone you hold dear?” he asked, his
tone falling more into condescension. He leaned into the table
suddenly, dramatically even, trying to draw me out. “How did they
escape the ‘abomination’? And if you have the elf lord’s power,
where is it? You certainly look no different than you did
before.”

I nodded, swallowing. “Certainly some good
questions there, Mr. Marchand. I’ll try to answer some. First off,
my father wasn’t there; I brought him there. I don’t know exactly
how but it probably has something to do with the Heart of Faery,
the Fountain, and my power. One man sees to the needs of a million
Fae by restoring their balance that allows them to use and take
sustenance from the land on which they live. The Rat Bastard
destroyed their bonds and the Queens destroyed their land. I gave
them back both because they were helpless without it. You may be
able to commit genocide, but that’s not in me. These Fae are a
threat only to invading rodents and insects. And you can’t see my
power. Why would you think you could see something added to it?”
Not that there was any power added. The only difference I felt was
the connection to the Pacthome was stronger. A lot stronger.

“And where is the Fountain now? Will you be
bringing it here?” he asked coyly. He either knew what the answer
was or expected it.

“The Fountain no longer exists,” I said,
offering nothing further. The answer seemed to shock him.

“What did you do to it?” he asked carefully.
“With it?” correcting himself.

“None of your business,” I answered.

“So you are a king without a kingdom?”

“No.” Glancing to Harris and Bishop, I
wondered why they were allowing him to range so freely over this
conversation, controlling it over them, without saying anything.
Both of them were watching both of us intently, but there was
definitely a strong sense of distrust from both men aimed at
Marchand.

“So where is this kingdom of Seth McClure’s,
then?” he asked, his tone finally hitting condescending.

“Locked away from prying eyes, safe and
sound,” I said, pushing my nearly empty plate forward. I should
have timed that, might have been an eating record of some kind.

“When do we get to see it?”

“If you get to see my home, Mr. Marchand,” I
said, stressing the first two words, “it will be at my leisure. The
Cahills are certainly welcome at anytime, though I would prefer
some time to setup a house first. I wouldn’t want Mrs. Cahill
sleeping under a tree.”

“I’ve slept under less, dear,” Enid Cahill
said from the end of the table. I smiled at her unexpected comment.
There was something romantic about it.

Marchand was staring at me, drumming his
fingers on the table, looking both disturbed and impatient. At
least, on the surface. He was manipulating his aura, too. That, I
found interesting. It wasn’t a huge change; he lacked that kind of
control over himself as far as I could see. Maybe that was what
Bishop and Harris were watching, that manipulation.

“Perhaps you should just come out and say
what you’re thinking and save us all some time. I could use a
shower before bed,” I said, sniffing myself. “Definitely, with lots
of soap.”

“Huh, and I thought Peter farted,” Ethan
mumbled, snickering.

He sighed heavily, milking the drama. “We are
wondering where that puts you in the scheme of things, where your
loyalties now lie, and what this means for us? A human liege of
Faery? Does this mean you will take men and women and bind them as
elves are bound, as slaves to your will under powerful geas? Or
will you somehow gain your own elves to contort to your wishes?
There are a number of questions that we want answered.