Shadow Queene Read online

  Contents

  Shadow Queene

  Copyright © 2020 by Kate Ristau

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Strongly Worded Women: The Best of the Year of Publishing Women: An Anthology

  Shout: An Anthology of Resistance Poetry and Short Fiction

  The Gospel According to St. Rage

  Daughter of Magic

  Going Green

  Don’t Read This Book

  SuperGuy

  The Supernormal Legacy: Book 1 Dormant

  Djinn

  Survivors’ Club

  Shadow Girl

  The Staff of Fire and Bone

  Wrestling Demons

  Corporate High School

  The Digital Storm

  The Sum of Our Gods

  Shadow Queene

  by

  Kate Ristau

  Copyright © 2020 by Kate Ristau

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by

  Not a Pipe Publishing, Independence, Oregon.

  www.NotAPipePublishing.com

  eBook Edition

  ISBN-13: 978-1-948120-51-7

  Cover by Lee Moyer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To Tall Kate, Bow Tie Kate, and Jenny (Kate),

  My Fairy Godmothers

  Every Night and every Morn

  Some to Misery are Born.

  Every Morn and every Night

  Some are Born to sweet delight.

  Some are Born to sweet delight,

  Some are Born to Endless Night.

  -William Blake

  “Augeries of Innocence”

  One

  “Don’t let go!” Áine screamed. The wind crashed into her, knocking her down to her knees, but she held on tight. She wouldn’t let Hennessy go. Not now. Not when they had almost made it through the Crossing.

  It had been so easy. They had glided through the Crossing as if it were meant to be. But then, with a fierceness that chilled Áine, the wind had thrown Keva and Ciaran ahead, and pushed Hennessy and Áine back, leaving them alone in the darkening tunnel.

  Áine tightened her grip and turned back toward the light. “We’re almost there. Come on. I can see it, Hennessy! The Aetherlands! We’re—”

  The wind gusted—an explosion of sound and icy weight slicing into her—thrusting Áine back into the darkness. Her fingers wrenched and twisted around Hennessy’s, slipping and sliding through the dust and the dirt, but she held on tight.

  “I won’t—”

  The pulsing Eta obliterated her words. They sliced into her skin, screeching and screaming. The magic of the fey cut into her, pushing Áine back.

  The last time she crossed, the Eta were ice, freezing her skin. This time, they were fire, burning and angry. They didn’t want Hennessy—a Shadow—crossing into the Aetherlands. No humans. Not here. They screamed through her ears, but she pushed past them, charging into the wind, dragging Hennessy toward the light.

  They had to keep moving, had to get out of the Crossing, or—

  Hennessy jerked back. Áine held on tight, refusing to let go, and landed hard on her arm. Her heavysack shifted beneath her, and her fingers loosened. She reached out and grabbed Hennessy with her other hand.

  Hennessy collapsed, her black hair whipping around her face. “I can’t—”

  “We have to,” Áine said. She rose to her feet and pulled Hennessy up, her heavysack shifting to the side. She shoved it onto her back again. “We’re almost there.”

  “Just let me go,” Hennessy said, her voice a whisper in the roar.

  “No. You can do this.” Áine shouldered her way past a tree root crawling with Eta, Hennessy’s body tight to hers. They just needed to make it a few more steps, then they would be there—in the Aetherlands. They were so close.

  The wind slashed by her face, and she felt the fiery rush of the Crossing slicing through her veins. She couldn’t hold them back anymore. The Eta. They were in her. They were all around her. They were everywhere.

  Áine tried to push them back again. She stumbled forward, but they were strong. It was more than the Crossing—they were angry. They did not want to let Hennessy through.

  “Alaomana!” Áine shouted, but the Aethernoe fell flat, and fire crossed her tongue, the fey magic sizzling against her tongue.

  She shook her head, focused in, and tried to force the Eta down. But they coursed relentlessly through her. “Alaomana,” she pleaded, but the words dissolved into the light.

  “Alaomanoeste,” Áine begged.

  Nothing. Just more fire, burning and aching, pushing and scratching and cutting through her body. They weren’t going to get through. The Eta didn’t want them. Áine and Hennessy would be trapped—lost in between worlds, adrift in time. She cried out in anger and slammed her hand against her thigh.

  Water splashed down onto her face from the root of the tree. With each drop, her mind cleared. She could pierce the light; she was stronger than the Eta. She could see the end of the Crossing.

  The light flared, but she did not squint. As the water dripped down her cheek, she felt something stir deep within her. Dark and heavy, it churned through her stomach.

  “Shadows,” Áine whispered.

  Hennessy gasped, wrenching and twisting, spasms wracking her body as she collapsed. “They don’t want me,” she spat out.

  Áine fell to her knees beside her. She took Hennessy’s face in her hands. “The Eta are strong. But you are stronger.”

  Hennessy winced and faded, her head falling to the side, but Áine pulled her back.

  “Look at me,” Áine said, drawing her closer. “Remember when you called up the dark? Remember when you stood against Creed?” Hennessy nodded, her body shivering and shaking. “You’re stronger than them. You can’t let them win. You need to fight.”

  “I am,” Hennessy said. “It’s not enough.”

  The light smashed into them again, and Áine held onto Hennessy. Her body blazed in Áine’s hands, and the shadows wrenched inside Áine in response.

  The Aethernoe wasn’t working. The Eta weren’t listening.

  Áine stared down at Hennessy’s twisted face. She knew what she needed to do. She didn’t need to speak to the Eta—she needed to destroy them.

  “Screw the Eta,” Áine said, wiping the water from her face. “You’re coming with me.”

  Áine rose to her feet, pulling Hennessy up with her, and felt for the nightmare inside. She didn’t understand it, but she could use it. She had to.

  She took a deep breath, called up the darkness, and screamed into the wind.

  Shadows blasted out of her mouth, flying through the Eta. They shook the earth and shattered the air, blasting
the wind back through the tunnel. The Eta blazed, brighter than the midsummer sun, and then rushed back toward her.

  Áine screamed again, shadows crashing through her throat and out of her mouth. The Eta flickered, flared, and then exploded in a stream of flames.

  The tree contracted and shrieked. In a blinding flash, Eta shot out of the roots of the pine. The screech stabbed deep into Áine’s ears. Waves of pain cut through her, but Áine held firm as the Eta shook the walls and roots of the Crossing. Hennessy buckled beside her.

  Áine planted her feet in the soil of the Crossing, her eyes level. “No,” she said, the word hard in her mouth. She spat it at them. As the shadows slipped back into the darkness, she stared into the light of the Eta. “Try it,” she said.

  They flared and then flickered in the heavy air. She clenched her fists. The Eta cried out. Their agony cut into her ears, but she kept her place, and with one final whimper, they darkened and faded, then finally disappeared into the light at the end of the tunnel.

  Just as quickly as it had started, it was over. The air was clear, warm. The sound was gone. The Eta had faded. The light was ahead, the darkness behind, and they were just behind the veil.

  The mantle shimmered and shone, reflecting back the light of the Aetherlands, the home of the fey.

  Áine knelt down and squeezed Hennessy’s hand. Slowing her own breath, she pulled her heavysack tight and looked down into Hennessy’s face. Her eyes shone in the glimmering light of the veil. Her chest was rising and falling, and her mouth was hanging open. She was barely hanging on, but she was alive. Alive. Hennessy was a Shadow, and she had made it through the Crossing.

  They had both made it.

  “We stopped them,” Áine whispered. “We did it.”

  Hennessy groaned, and as Áine watched, she slowly focused on Áine’s face.

  “This is it,” Áine said. She squeezed Hennessy’s hand again, willing the warmth back into her cold fingers. “This is what you’ve been waiting for.”

  “You have no idea,” Hennessy said. Trembling, she dropped Áine’s hand and rubbed her arms. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Áine nodded and pulled Hennessy to her feet. They stumbled toward the light and the shimmer of green just on the other side of the veil. Áine raised her arm, ready to break the veil, ready to go home.

  She stole one last look at Hennessy. No matter what came next, they would face it together. “Let’s go,” she said.

  Áine reached up and slashed through the silvery sheath, breaking the barrier between the worlds, and a rush of sweet air washed over her. She took a deep breath, and the air felt clean and cool in her throat.

  The Aetherlands. It was exactly where she wanted to be. It filled her up and made her whole again.

  It was okay. It was finally okay. Ciaran and Keva had passed into the Aetherlands before them—they had cut their own veil and made it through. They were safe. Everyone was safe.

  She glanced back at Hennessy, ready to lead her through—just as a black, trailing shadow slithered out of the darkness. It grabbed Hennessy’s leg and wrenched her back.

  Hennessy cried out and lunged for Áine’s hand. She missed it, grabbing onto Áine’s heavysack instead. The heavysack ripped from Áine’s shoulder, and Áine dove down, her fingers reaching, grasping for Hennessy—and colliding with the dirt.

  Kicking and jerking, Hennessy tried to pull away, but they clung to her legs and arms. Hennessy whipped the heavysack toward them, but they pulled her in further, clinging to her, covering her up until all Áine could see was a heavy black shadow and the light of the Aetherlands reflecting in Hennessy’s eyes.

  Then the shadows whipped her body around and dragged her into the tunnel.

  Áine sprang after them, but the Eta howled and screamed, bashing into her and throwing her back, ripping her off her feet and out of the tunnel, out of the darkness, away from Hennessy, and straight into the light.

  The warm air crashed into her as she crossed the threshold and fell to the ground, landing hard on her shoulder and knocking the air out of her chest. She gasped, trying to catch her breath, and rolled onto her back. Her arm lay twisted and limp at her side. No pain. No thoughts. Her eyes whirled around, searching. Branches hung down above her. The pine tree. The Crossing. She had made it to the other side.

  Áine groaned and pulled herself up.

  “Hennessy,” she whispered, eyes scanning the hillside. She saw Keva. Ciaran. But no Hennessy.

  Inside. She was still inside the tree. The Crossing. She hadn’t made it out. She had been pulled into the darkness and the shadows.

  Áine crawled to her knees, pounding her fists against the ground. Ciaran ran up the hill toward her.

  “What happened?” he asked, helping her to her feet.

  “The shadows,” Áine said. He put his hands on her shoulders, but she shrugged him off. Hennessy. She took a deep breath, then charged through the pine needles, back to the tree trunk, to the Crossing, to Hennessy.

  Blood rushed to her face as she rounded the tree trunk three times. She tried to raise her right hand, but her shoulder burned and her fingers dangled, useless, broken. “Cra.” She grabbed her hand and loosened her fingers, then used her left hand to lead her right through the sign of the Crossing. The branches shook, and the trunk trembled.

  “What—” Ciaran began, but the sound disappeared. Feet in the soft earth, Áine braced herself against the surge, waiting for the Crossing to open.

  The tall pine rumbled, roots bursting upward, and then it pulsed with a thousand blazing lights. Áine shut her eyes against the flare, but then forced them open and stepped toward the blinding light. The Eta burned even brighter, and she took another step toward the blaze. The tree burst into flames. She shielded her head—she knew what she had to do.

  She surged forward into the light, but before she touched the flames, the tree exploded.

  For a moment, the world was filled with sound, rushing and crashing into her ears.

  Then the Eta slammed into her, throwing her backward, away from the Crossing. “Hennessy!” she yelled, and then her body cracked against the ground and the world turned to fire.

  Two

  Áine’s breath came in slow gasps, acrid sips of smoky air. Hennessy. She coughed, pushing out the smoke, feeling the air flowing in. She wanted to spit it back out. Hennessy. She wanted to cough, wanted to scream, to yell, to do whatever she could to bring her back. Hennessy. She raked the ground with her left hand, fingers crunching into dead pine needles. She pulled them up into her hand and threw them away, stretching out into the darkness, into the smoke, reaching for Hennessy’s fingers.

  But her hand wasn’t there. The hill was empty, barren and black. The explosion still rang in her ears like the trumpet of the Dullahan. A death knell. Hennessy. Smoke rose from the Crossing, a dark streak staining the silver sky, but nothing else remained. The tree was gone. Everything was gone.

  Hennessy is gone.

  The Eta swirled around her, slipping into her mouth and ears, dancing across her fingers and over her twisted arm. The ringing quieted, and they warmed her up—sliding across the cuts on her face, kissing her cheeks, healing every bruise and every pain.

  If she could have, she would have crushed them in her hands.

  They healed her, when moments before they would have destroyed her.

  But they had gotten what they wanted. Hennessy didn’t cross. The shadows dragged her into the darkness. The shadows that came from inside Áine.

  A hand touched her shoulder, pulled her in. Ciaran. Whispering, holding, bringing her back. She clenched her fists, and then she fell into him, shaking and trembling in anger as the Eta swam under her skin. She squeezed his arm as they cracked the bones back into place.

  The sound broke the stillness. It must have startled him—he pulled her closer and held her tighter, hand rubbing her back. Slow circles. Tender, gentle, even though she could hear his heart pounding against her cheek. She felt his mouth
open, but she couldn’t understand the words that came out, couldn’t hear past the roar in her mind.

  Hennessy. Hennessy had been right there, just on the other side of the Crossing. Her fingers were still warm from Hennessy’s touch. They had almost crossed. She had pulled Hennessy forward, pulled her into the light—broken the sheath and reached across the threshold.

  And they had dragged Hennessy back—the Oberon-forsaken shadows. The ones she screamed into the Crossing. The ones she brought to life.

  And the Eta had worked with them. They forced her to the other side. “Cra,” Áine whispered.

  The smoke billowed up, and the Eta swam and swirled through the air, taking in the smoke, spinning it out, spinning it away. Already, they were weaving grass over the spot where the tree had stood. The pine needles were dissolving into the ground.

  “Cra!” she yelled. Ciaran’s hand stilled on her back, and she grabbed a fistful of charred pine needles.

  The Eta had forced her out of the Crossing. They had lit into her and thrust her into the Aetherlands. And now they were taking the last of the Crossing away—her only way back to Hennessy. Soon, there would be nothing left.

  “Stop it!” she yelled at them, throwing the pine needles at them, pushing them away with her hands and with her fists. They twirled around her fingers. “You can’t. She’s in there. Hennessy. She’s—”

  Her words caught in her throat. Where was she? Where had they taken her?

  “She’s not there anymore,” Ciaran said.

  Áine ripped his arms off her and shoved him away. He rose to his knees, looking down at her with that look. The one she hated. Pity, sadness, all wrapped up in need and want.

  She couldn’t handle him looking at her like that. Not right now. He didn’t understand. She had to get back to Hennessy.

  She struggled up, pushed past the lingering pain in her arms and legs, and staggered back to the Crossing. “She’s here,” Áine said, slapping away the Eta. They danced around her hands. “I just had her. We were almost through. We cut the veil, Ciaran. We saw the light.” She turned around, trying to find a glimmer of the Crossing. “But the shadows. From me. It was my fault. They pulled her back. And the Eta—” She raked at her skin, trying to get them off her. “They didn’t want her. They pushed me through, and they left her behind.”