Stay in the light, p.18
Stay in the Light, page 18
Before his lectures he would scrutinise those in attendance. Heaven knows what tell he was searching for; what feature or mannerism could betray the presence of those imposters he’d feared were following him. His students saw only the façade, and never the paranoia concealed behind it. His son alone was privy to that. If the fairies had, as he’d hypothesised, coexisted in furtive disharmony with the human race for these past centuries, then any hopes of isolating them for research purposes was a fool’s errand at best. They were far too proficient in their gifts to ever be identified and altogether too secretive to leave any such intrusions unchecked. To study them properly, in order to understand how they did it – how they changed – then his father believed that he needed to trace them back to their source. Wherever that madness may have led him, he’d never found his way home.
‘Go on so, tell me,’ Sean said, sitting by Ian’s side on a plastic crate even though he couldn’t keep his feet still, ‘what has the old man been right about this time?’
He’d never seen Ash like this, tingling from some knowledge that she could barely keep from exploding out her mouth. Whatever secrets she’d uncovered, Sean knew from her energy alone that it was about to change everything.
‘It’s more than just a message from the Milesians,’ she began, ‘it’s a record of what happened and, I suppose, why it happened. This is it! This is the indisputable proof that you’ve been looking for, Sean.’
Ian chuckled to himself. ‘Is this about the ending to your story last night?’
Ash pointed at him. ‘Exactly!’ she replied eagerly. ‘This is what really happened.’
Sean had dreamt of this moment since he was a child – when his father would conclude the Tuatha Dé Danann’s legacy with vague ideas that never sat right with one so young. Questions weren’t endings. Answers were.
‘You were right about them coexisting in harmony,’ Ash said. ‘There was no war, and the Tuatha Dé Danann didn’t disappear underground before the Milesians arrived because of some grim premonition. They lived together, just like you said, each race learning from the other. An era of peace, Sean, all record of which has been lost until now.’
‘The Ogham you translated said that?’ he asked, sitting forward, his whole body atremble.
Ash nodded. ‘Yeah, pretty much. The proof is there in writing!’
‘So what happened to this harmony of yours?’ Ian put in excitedly. ‘Sorry, this is actually interesting. And I thought you guys were just digging up some old rocks.’
‘I guess you could say that the old gods got a little too curious for their own good,’ she replied mischievously. ‘Not all of them, mind you. It wouldn’t be fair to tar them all with the same brush. Most of them were perfectly content to let the humans exist amongst them, keeping their distance, of course. Both races lived within their respective clans and any intermingling was very much carried out in a learned capacity. You know, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. But some of the Tuatha Dé Danann weren’t so well behaved and intervened in ways that they shouldn’t have.’
‘Like what?’ the techie asked, much to Sean’s chagrin.
Just let the woman fucking talk.
‘They didn’t understand what it was to be mortal – the cycle of life and death and how humanity endured it. Their actions weren’t malicious. They were more akin to innocence, or perhaps ignorance is a better word for it. Anyway, sorry, I’m rambling. There were cases when they took on the identity of someone who’d passed away. They were probably hoping to soothe the family’s sorrow – by replacing the one they were grieving for – but as you can imagine, that didn’t land so well. The writings are vague in places, but I don’t think the humans realised what the Tuatha Dé Danann were capable of until that happened, and that changed everything for the worse down the line. The fact of them being able to impersonate anyone must have come as quite a shock. But they sorted out their differences, for a while at least.’
‘Why?’ Ian asked. ‘What happened then?’
‘A child,’ Ash replied glossing her tone with a respectful solemnity. ‘A changeling replaced a child. Did away with it too, if the writings are to be believed. One of them wanted to experience a mortal life, short as it was – to be brought up in a loving home, to live as part of a family, and feign the ageing process that was to them such an absurdity.’
‘So the stories are grounded in reality,’ Sean said.
‘Exactly,’ Ash said, her smile once again at full beam. ‘And after that incident, distrust was justifiably rampant. What followed next could be compared to a witch hunt. Anyone who acted out of character or whose appearance altered for whatever reason – be it from illness or injury – was suspected of being a changeling. And I’m pretty sure, Sean, that you can guess how they went about proving who was human and who wasn’t.’
‘Fire,’ he replied, his mouth lolling open.
‘Just like the superstitions say,’ she confirmed. ‘And you know what this means, don’t you?’
Sean stared at her, too awestricken to collect his thoughts.
‘The Kilmartin theory is right,’ Ash said, playfully clapping her hands. ‘They were all changelings. Every single one of them.’
‘Okay, that’s all very interesting,’ Ian put in, raising his hand like an eager schoolboy to get her attention, ‘but what about the witch hunt?’
‘Society was tearing itself apart and the Tuatha Dé Danann held themselves responsible, which was fair. And like you said last night, Sean, the humans were like pets to them. War and conflict were pains of the past. Bonds had been made. There were friendships, trade, a quality of life that wasn’t hampered by the human race, but rather was seen to be enhanced by it. So they opted for what you might call a hard reset.’
‘What do you mean?’ Sean asked.
Ash was pacing on the spot now, choosing her words before she spoke.
‘There could never be peace so long as the humans suspected that the changelings were secretly living amongst them,’ she said eventually. ‘And that instance with the child wasn’t an isolated case, apparently. So a deal was made, only a temporary one, mind you, but a deal nonetheless.’
‘I knew it,’ Sean said, rising to his feet. ‘The Tuatha Dé Danann went underground by their own volition. There was no way they could have been defeated.’
‘Would you ever sit down.’ Ian laughed, patting the crate beside him. ‘Jesus, you’re like two kids.’
‘What was the deal?’ Sean asked, ignoring him as he crossed his arms into a knot, unable to stand still.
Ash took her time, watching him with a smile that made the moment feel all the more timeless. ‘The two races agreed to split completely. Changelings on one side. Humans on the other. Gods and mortals divided, just as nature intended.’
‘And why did you call it a hard reset?’ the techie asked, jumping on the terminology.
‘To make sure that there was no more mixing between the two races,’ she explained, ‘insidious or otherwise, the Tuatha Dé Danann agreed to go under the earth, not forever, just for a while. The writings don’t say for how long, but that hardly matters now. The idea was that when they returned to the light, their kind would abide by the new rules set in place, forbidding them from interfering with human lives and society. No more suspicions. No more witch hunts. The peace that they’d come to appreciate could return.’
‘But it didn’t, did it?’ Ian asked. ‘The peace, I mean.’
Ash shook her head. ‘The Tuatha Dé Danann had mastered the human face. They could alter any aspect of it on a whim, but they obviously hadn’t learned to see through it – to the truth that you conceal behind smiles and laughter.’
‘They were betrayed,’ Sean whispered, finally sitting back down.
‘The day came – the one that the Tuatha Dé Danann had agreed upon; some reluctantly, others more eager to make amends,’ Ash said. ‘Your ancestors gathered around their makeshift tombs, all of them waving goodbye to the gods so foolish as to trust them. And when they’d all descended into the darkness, the humans sealed them in, trapping the changelings in the very prisons that they’d built for themselves.’
Sean couldn’t believe it. His father had been right. He imagined the old man’s face – so often laden with a frown as he laboured over the cryptic resources at his disposal – now dressed in a smile as euphoric as his own.
‘And when was this exactly?’ Ian asked.
For a man who’d ridiculed their research the night before, he now seemed to be hanging on Ash’s every word.
‘Long enough ago for them to change,’ she replied.
‘What do you mean?’ the techie pressed, his whole face scrunched up in confusion.
‘Think about it,’ Ash said. ‘The Tuatha Dé Danann had the ability to change any aspect of their appearance. They chose to resemble humankind, but that doesn’t mean that was their original form. And in the dark, underground, tunnelling through the earth for centuries, of course they changed. Bodies would have grown skinnier and taller, relying on long limbs and claws to burrow out their nests. Eyes would have probably turned nocturnal over time. So, too, would their skin; denied sunlight for so long, they may have developed an aversion to it. The flawless beauty that Sean told you about was gone. These gods became monsters. No, sorry, that’s wrong. They didn’t become monsters. Humankind made them that way.’
‘But how were they trapped underground?’ Ian asked. ‘Wouldn’t it be just as easy for them to dig their way up instead of down?’
‘I don’t know,’ Ash replied, pouting at her lack of an answer. ‘The writings in the chamber allude to some secret that they’d learned from the Tuatha Dé Danann themselves. Call it magic, if you want. For all we know it was some lost technology or a fucking ritual. Sure look at the shaft and that stairwell in the main chamber – the way they’ve been cut so perfectly. The Milesians definitely learned a few tricks from the old gods before they turned on them. Anyway, regardless of how they trapped them underground, it worked. Once they went down, they weren’t coming back up anytime soon.’
Sean stood up again to catch Ash’s eye. ‘But they didn’t all go along with the agreement, did they? There were still those who knew better than to trust the human race.’
Ash grinned at him, like a teacher proud of her smartest pupil. ‘You really are a Kilmartin, aren’t you?’
‘And what happened to them?’ Ian asked jumping up to his feet to stay a part of the discourse.
‘They’ve been living amongst us the entire time,’ Sean said, looking to Ash, ‘just like my father used to tell me. Their bodies wouldn’t have suffered the same changes as the others, would they? They wouldn’t have had those same nocturnal limitations forced upon them.’
‘Right again.’ She smiled. ‘They could walk around like you or me; actually quite literally as you or me. But they were the minority after their kind had been betrayed. They would have grouped together, moved together, survived together, and the humans around them would have been none the wiser.’
‘You mean, they’re real?’ Ian asked nervously, the revelations having finally registered.
Ash smiled at him, but before she could speak another word, the walkie-talkie on the desk crackled aloud.
‘Aisling, come in,’ said a voice that Sean didn’t recognise. ‘Are you there?’
‘Go ahead,’ she replied, shaking her head at the timing.
‘We’re nearly in.’
‘What do you mean?’ Ash asked. ‘You’re nearly in what?’
More static fizzled in the tent. ‘That entranceway we found,’ came the reply. ‘It’s a tunnel, and it goes way deeper than we thought.’
16
MINA
The daylight had been Mina’s only measure of time, and she’d lain on her side since Flanagan left, watching it darken to night, listening out for the occasional canter of hard-heeled shoes in the corridor outside. After the coop, the bulb above her bed felt no brighter than a flame on a wick, casting out the darkness without casting very much light. The yellow one – so easily enthused by the lamest distraction – had already succumbed to the tedium. He was now sound asleep, wings folded, his little head bowed in dream. Lucky for some. He’d been spared the hostile theories that kept Mina’s eyes from closing. She imagined the island of Ireland as one fat nest – a labyrinth of tunnels reaching from coast to coast and all places in between. What if over the centuries the watchers had been creeping up from the earth, silently stealing lives and positioning themselves like spies to await some terrible signal? And what if that day was finally due?
The doctor’s words still lingered in the air long after they’d been spoken. The watchers were getting bolder, risking exposure, leaving a trail that the authorities were brushing over with their own wilful ignorance. Mina had been right though – others did know about them – but never had a victory felt so bittersweet. What difference did it make when a rational lens deemed all those who knew the truth irrational, turning victims into supposed lunatics?
It’s only a matter of time before it gets out into the open.
‘And what then?’ she whispered to herself, wishing she had asked Flanagan that same question when she’d had the chance.
At least there’d be no more disputing her warnings, or her sanity for that matter. Lynch might even apologise for doubting everything Mina had told her bar her name.
Kilmartin’s kid was still out there, digging deeper by the day, awakening all those black eyes in the darkness. But there were camera crews, news reporters, and so many other witnesses on site; someone must survive to warn the world. Too many had already lost their lives because Mina had failed to act, like a child hiding under her bed, waiting for monstrous feet to gather around her.
‘I’m glad one of us is getting some sleep,’ she mumbled to the yellow one before silently screaming though another yawn.
A sudden blindness caused Mina to flinch up from her pillow. The lonely bulb had been extinguished – so too had the tall lights of the car park outside her window – leaving the cell in perfect darkness. She lay there, eyes wide but seeing only the room as she’d memorised it, pinned to a mattress that creaked with each nervous breath stolen from her lips. And then there was a sound amidst the silence, low but getting louder – getting closer. Footsteps were crunching across the car park. Mina unfolded her limbs and crawled clumsily up to her feet, disturbing the yellow one who began to whip his wings about his cage.
‘Keep it down, will you,’ she whispered to him. ‘Somebody’s out there.’
Mina reached her nose up to the window ledge. But where those steps had fallen, there was now only a cold and steady stillness. That didn’t change the fact that she’d heard them. It might have been one of the Guards plodding innocently over to inspect a dodgy fuse box or something. And yet this explanation – plausible as it was – didn’t make the dark any less ominous. The bird was still upsetting himself, chirping out every dissonant melody in his repertoire. Mina fell to her knees beside him on the bed and slipped her fingers into his cage.
‘It’s okay, I’m here,’ she said, like a mother consoling her upset child. ‘It’s just a power cut. There’s no need to cry.’
And yet she knew as these words were uttered that there was every fucking reason to cry. The watchers must have witnessed her arrest. Such was their determination to drive her off the road that they wouldn’t have renounced their pursuit so easily. They’d have bided their time and waited for the Guards to bundle her into the back seat, and then they would have followed, keeping to the lightless wilds that flanked the road on either side. How could she have been so stupid to hope that she was safe here of all places. She’d been caught and gift-wrapped for them to come and tear her open. Is that why the yellow one had acted out? Had he detected a presence outside their window where she’d only heard footsteps?
‘What’s out there?’ she whispered to him, her nose pressed to his cage.
The click of shoes was now approaching from the corridor. Mina discerned the rattle of keys as their holder fumbled to find the right one. There was a slide and a sharp click and the cell door opened, revealing a silhouette framed by the moody red glow of the station’s emergency lights. Judging by the shape – or lack thereof – it was the same Guard she’d spoken to earlier; the one who liked to chomp down on his fingernails between meals.
‘The power’s out, Mina,’ he said, spinning his ring of keys. ‘First time this has happened, but sure it’s not the end of the world. We’ll struggle on.’
‘What caused it?’ she asked.
‘No idea,’ he replied, not the least bit fazed by the night’s odd turn. ‘It’s just you and me in the station, so one of us will have to take the blame for it.’
‘What do you mean just you and me? Where are the others?’
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘they’re out on a call somewhere.’
‘Were you outside a moment ago, in the car park?’
Mina saw his bulbous head shake in the darkness. ‘No, I’ve been up in reception. Someone has to keep an eye on things here, you know.’
‘But I thought I heard someone,’ she said. ‘Actually, no, I definitely did. They walked right past my window.’
‘Well.’ The Guard chuckled. ‘Hopefully it’s an electrician because we could be in the dark for a while, I’d say. My advice would be to get yourself some sleep and…’ His silhouette turned to face the reception, revealing the full extent of his pot belly. ‘Hello,’ he called out, ‘is someone up there?’
