Chapter 2

“Your way failed. The lost soul was going to meet its end. I brought it to a faster conclusion.” The metal tips of his boots jingle as he brings his foot down and stands to meet me eye to eye. In his boots he has a few inches on me and can once again look down on me as he uncrosses his arms. “I told you that this is the faster way. Once it has died in the tír a few hundred times it will let go of its bonds to the human realm and be able to pass on.” His voice betrays no hint of emotion even as I struggle to find enough breath to argue back. To him this is a simple explanation, no different from my discussion of the butterfly with Hannah.

“You told me we could do it my way. You said we could help them pass on peacefully. That’s what I agreed to!”

“And you tried to kill yourself. The lost soul is already dead. If you sacrifice yourself for it, we don’t get a chance to come back and try again. I told you to just let it be burned. Just look away and let it come to pass. You needlessly put us at risk for nothing.”

“You—” I pull to the side just in time, letting the vomit out on the floor instead of Féileacán. I catch myself on the back of the seats and hold them tight as my body shakes with each short gasp of air I can get down. It’s agonizing. All that my mind can focus on is trying to force more air into my lungs while my body fights against me. The train seats fade away and all I see is Hannah’s face as she was burned by the dusk flames. Right before they consumed her, she had opened her mouth. A single syllable that would never be heard. What was her dying thought as she stared at the man who had shown her nothing but kindness, then suddenly ended her life without a sign of concern.

A gentle touch brings me back to the train car. A tender pat on the back which makes me twist my head to see my own eyes staring back at me. Searching those eyes I see my own face, contorted with pain and gasping for each breath as tears and more threaten to drown me. I feel my chest shaking and grab onto the leather of his cloak. Féileacán is solid, even as I grip onto his arm to not collapse. His gloved hand continues to pat my back as I force myself to take deeper breaths. As my breathing begins to calm, he stops patting my back, instead placing a hand on my shoulder which he pushes gently to lift me upright. My eyes squeeze shut, plunging me into darkness as I swallow hard once again. When I open them, I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly and taking in the pale light of the train we’re in.

The train looks simple enough. Modern, like the ones I take to and from work each morning, but far too clean and empty. The usual smells of stale piss and half-eaten food aren’t present, and outside the window there is nothing but darkness in every direction. The rhythmic beat of the wheels rolling along the tracks and occasional flickering of the lights going on and off are the only sensory information I get from this train. Right now, I can feel my heart drumming in my chest at a far faster beat than the wheels too. Féileacán gives me a nod as I focus on him, and I nod back, releasing his arm and stepping away. I wipe my face with the back of sleeve, cringing a little at the vomit now on my cardigan as well as the floor. I wonder if it will still be here the next time we return. This train which travels between worlds, The Tracks Between, isn’t something I understand on any level, so it will be interesting to find out. The thought distracted me for a moment, but now my thoughts return to Hannah and I glare back at Féileacán.

“My apologies.” The words, spoken in my own voice but without any emotion bring me to Féileacán once more. “I should have stopped you as soon as you began to transform. Next time I’ll—”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” I interrupt Féileacán with enough anger for both of us. “I only agreed to help you with the lost souls if we do it my way. Next time I’ll tell you who to swing that whip at, but you don’t get to use my body to kill the innocent. She was a child, Féileacán!” His arms cross back over his chest as he looks out at the darkness beyond the window. I wait, used to these silent pauses by now. It’s been two months since my body was possessed by this entity, and his silence was one of the few things I’d become used to.

“Was a child, Cú. It no longer lives in this plane.” I’m about to snap at him, but Féileacán raises a hand to silence me. I fume at the dismissal but let him continue. “We will do things your way, as we have the last few, but when you fail, I will do what I must to protect this vessel.”

“My body.”

“What?”

“Quit calling my body a vessel. Besides, if you’d fought the witch hunters instead of killing Hannah, we might not have failed to help her pass on.” Féileacán lets out a small puff of air, barely opening his lips. Sighs are the closest I’ve seen him come to showing emotion, and while this isn’t exactly a sigh, I can tell he’s frustrated. Once more, his eyes drift off to look out the window before he speaks.

“Don’t try to sacrifice yourself again, and I won’t have to take control forcefully. You showed them that you were something from beyond their realm of understanding. The only options for mortals when faced with a power beyond their comprehension is to slay or pray. Neither one would have led to Hannah moving on by choice.” I let out a little laugh which brings Féileacán’s eyes back to me.

“Okay, you’re right. That one is my bad. We ran out of time, and I panicked. I’ll make sure I figure out a way to have her move on from what’s keeping her attached to her past life next time. I’m not gonna stop trying to save them that way, though. I don’t care that the tír isn’t my own plane or realm or dimension or —whatever! It feels real to me. They feel real. So, when you use my body to kill them, that feels like I’m killing someone rather than just helping them pass on. I am a mortal, Felly. I can’t put myself above them and extinguish life the way you do.” Taking another deep breath, I feel the rage leave me. I’m not even angry at Féileacán I realize. He made it clear from the beginning what this covenant entailed. It’s me that let Hannah down. Her final breath enters my mind again, but this time I remind myself that it wasn’t our only chance. When we return to Hannah in her afterlife she won’t remember any of what happened last time. I can make it right. That thought is enough to settle my mind for now.

“That’s why you chose me as your partner, right, to be the human part of this equation? You’re already calling her Hannah instead of ‘the lost soul.’ That’s progress.” The grin I aim at Féileacán makes him narrow his eyes, but he only lets out a slightly longer puff of air this time.

“You are only…” he pauses, catching himself before calling me a vessel once more. “Very well.” His eyes wander outside the window again and I follow them to the darkness beyond.

“What was that castle to you?” Féileacán’s eyes whip back to mine with such intensity I can almost feel the sting of the binding barbs themselves. I turn, expecting to see his eyes narrowed, but instead of anger I find the same passive expression as always. He holds my gaze, daring me to make one of my usual jokes to defuse the tension. Something holds me back. A sense of danger that I can feel from Féileacán on some level that I don’t need to read on his face, the intensity of which makes me stumble backwards, not daring to break eye contact with my doppelganger. As my weight shifts, the lights flicker for the briefest of seconds and the breath catches in my throat as the darkness lingers.

Féileacán is gone when my sight returns, and instead of the train I am staring at the sobbing ghost of Hannah once more. I let out a gasp, pulling away even further and hearing the metal of Féileacán’s boots thud on the hardwood floor of her bedroom. I spin around, expecting to find him behind me and crash slightly into the girl’s bookshelf having to steady it as some of the books fall. Black leather on my hands brings me back to my senses, reminding me that when we entered Hannah’s tír I had been in Felly’s form. I take a deep breath, then almost jump out of my skin as the door to the bedroom opens.

Mr. Anderson, Hannah’s father, peers into the room, looking from corner to corner. His eyes pass over me without any acknowledgement, coming to rest on the desk that Hannah is still hunched over, crying at. Tiptoeing in, he strokes his hand over the laptop on the table, delicately, as if worried it might break from the slightest weight. There, his fingers linger for a moment before they flip the laptop open bathing the room in soft blue light. In the light, Hannah’s form has become clearer. I can see her body, but it is as though she is made of shadow, all the features there, but without any colour. As she turns to face her father, I can see him through what should be the back of her head. Her hands reach up to try and cup his face, but the fingers pass through without any resistance, and she pulls her arms back in defeat, simply pleading with him to notice her without making a single sound. His lip trembles, and he brings his hand to his mouth to stifle a breath of his own. Hushed as it was, the whimper is loud enough that another voice calls out.

“Hon’, did you find what it was?” There’s a hint of hope in the voice that overcomes the hoarseness she fights through to be heard down the hall. Mr. Anderson slams the laptop closed, looking directly at me for a moment and then all around the floor. He takes a small breath of air, his anguish smoothing into a gentle frown.

“Just some books falling off the shelf. I’ll fix it in the morning.” Hannah is wailing at me now. Even in the dark I can see how desperate she is for me to say something, do anything to acknowledge her existence.

Don’t.

You don’t have to tell me. Knowing that she’s there won’t do anything to help him. That much, even a mortal can understand.

Mr. Anderson leaves the room, shutting the door once more with just me and Hannah’s ghost. She shakes her head in disbelief, eyes squinting as though fighting back the tears that aren’t there. I don’t have to hear what she tries to call me before collapsing back on the desk with her head in her hands. I feel it all, more than any word could have hurt me. My hand goes to the whip resting at my hip, fingers curling around the handle as I circle around the room, eyes unable to move on from Hannah’s ghost.

You’re sure that they’re not conscious of the things that happen in the tír? He’s told me as such several times already, but I need to hear it once more. If I don’t, I might not be able to take another step.

They’re not conscious of anything anymore. They simply exist trapped inside the moment that they died. The only thing they feel is the pain of whatever unfinished business prevents them from moving on. You can’t do anything for it here.

I nod, finding the doorknob without turning around. Still facing Hannah’s ghost, I make my way out of the room. “I’ll be back. I promise.” The words are as useless to her as they are to the parents in the next room. Passing by them as I leave the apartment, I find the pair holding each other on the couch and staring blankly at a television they haven’t changed the channel on for days. Neither one notices me take my leave until I slam the door shut on the way out. By the time they open it and look around, I can’t be perceived by mortal senses once more. I hear them talking about calling the police again as I head down the stairs. At least letting them hear the door slam was safer than leaving it unlocked, I tell myself. Still doesn’t take away the feeling that I’m harassing grieving parents.

The living are not a part of our duty, Cú. Don’t trouble yourself with mortal issues.

I happen to be a mortal, remember? What about your Outer God? Does he hear our mortal payers? The same black flame engulfs me once more, leaving me to shiver as I step out into the autumn night in more comfortable soft clothing. Pulling the cardigan tight across my chest, I accept that I won’t be getting an answer. Yeah, I thought not. Does he at least listen to yours?

I don’t pray to The Outer God. I do my duty. That is all that is required.

Could you send him a quick prayer to hold this bus? I manage to flag down the bus before it leaves and collapse in the back, realizing I might get home in time to have three hours of sleep before I need to be at work. Praise be, Toggy! If you did pray, what would you wish for? Banana cream pies? I tease Felly, remembering the only time I’ve felt sincere emotion from the entity. I can get you more if you pray to me, you know. No duty required~ Just heartfelt appreciation.

The only thing I pray for is that you’ll learn to appreciate silence. I smile, leaning against the window and hoping tomorrow will be a calmer day.

 

*

 

The shrieking of a banshee. 

I fall off my desk, and onto the cold linoleum floor. The wail still echoing around the room has me back on my feet, head pivoting left and right until I find where its coming from. The child can’t be any more than 10 years old, and it’s only when she covers her mouth and the room falls silent that I can believe such a loud noise came from such a scrawny thing. The beating of my heart swells in my ears filling the void left from the child’s scream, as an adult I recognize takes the girl’s hand for comfort. It takes me a moment of searching around for any more danger to realize I’m in my classroom and then another moment to remember laying my head on the desk to rest my eyes before the school day begins. With that information I’m able to take a long deep breath, unclench every muscle in my body and step back to my desk at the front of the class, looking less like a squatter caught in the act, and more the teacher I’m supposed to be.

The early morning sun pierces through my classroom at Harmony Park Academy Primary, making it painful to force my eyes open enough to wear my usual disarming smile. The best I can offer is a tired grimace as Will guides a student in through the door. Long tangles of red hair coil around her face, flickering like fire in the morning sun as she plants her feet, refusing to move any further. Will gives the girl’s hand a squeeze for comfort, turning to face the child with a playful smile. “Come now, Cú might be awful to look at in the mornings, but he ain’t scary. He’s gonna be your new teacher.” Her green eyes pounce around the classroom before landing once more on me. Pinned under that intense gaze, I don’t dare look away even as Will continues in their most serious voice. “You didn’t see the notice on the dashboard?” I shake my head, earning a groan from Will that I know is only a groan because they can’t use the words they want to in front of a student. “This is Saoirse Doherty, your new student. She’ll be joining 6-B today.”

Saoirse backs away as I step forward, cowering behind Will as though I am the scariest thing she’s ever seen. I stop short, feeling every part the monster that she seems to see me as, but only for a moment before I kneel to the ground, meeting the child at her eye level with a smile. She pushes away from Will, taking one more step back as she raises her fists up to her chest. She looks less afraid now, flight giving way to fight, her dark green eyes as feral as a feline’s as they challenge me to take another step forward. My own opal eyes soften in turn. The mask of caring teacher slips on, similar gentleness swelling in my voice as I speak through a practiced smile.

“Nice to meet you, Saoirse. My name is Cú. Sorry if I scared you.” Saoirse punches Will in the hip, causing them to yelp in response.

“That’s my teacher?” The girl’s voice is high pitched and cuts through the space between us. The tinge of an Irish accent that reminds me of family does nothing to soften the sting of her obvious distaste. Will looks between the girl and me. Unsure of what to say, they just nod, a finger coming to their lips as they search for a response. Saoirse marches backwards out of the class standing against the wall without ever breaking the glare. “Thank you. I’ll wait for class to start here.”

“Good luck.” A single giggle escapes Will as they shoot me a smile, green eyes twinkling with mischief. “Check your dashboard, you silly. The principal said it’s been there a week.” I nod to Will as they leave the classroom, sitting back at my desk and offering Saoirse one more pleading smile. Her head darts to the side as she squeezes her fists tight at her side, but her glare stays sharply focused on me.

So much for the day job being any easier.