Page 139 of A Courage of the Chosen

Callahan

I’ve seen and done many gruesome things. I’ve been shin-deep in the innards of soldiers as I’ve fought off hordes of Brollachan and Dorche. I’ve witnessed children screaming for their parents as they’re ripped away and forced to watch as they become shells of who they used to be. Even torn a spine out of someone mid-fight, tasting their blood on my tongue as their organs spilled from the gaping wound.

Seeing the magic I’ve dedicated my life to fighting seep into my sister and take her tops all of them.

Nothing was more horrifying to me than knowing it was over, and my twin was no longer the person I knew.

I deal in blood and death and certainty.

The sun rises and sets.

All Dorche are evil.

My sister is gone.

They’re the facts. Even the healer told us Rachel is as good as lost. Yet as I knock on the door to my mother’s room at Uncle’s home outside the city, Brodie’s words in the forest and Elsie’s determination stay with me, and I ask . . . what if?

What if there’s something we don’t know yet that could save her?

What if now Raghnall is dead, the power will eventually fade from her?

What if it was Elsie instead of Rachel? It was so close to that.

What if, what if, what if.

It’s well past one in the morning by now, and Uncle’s face grows hard as I shoulder my way through the door to find him poring over maps. “Where’s Mother?”

“She’s asleep,” he says. So I silently go upstairs to fetch her.

She’s draping a shawl around her aged shoulders as she answers, hair unbound and curling down to her waist. “Callahan?”

I’m one hundred and fifty-one years old, my name still spoken fearfully in many corners of this realm, but as my eyes meet the soft brown of my mother’s, I nearly crumble.

“Mum.” I draw her in, wrapping my arms around her as the tears threaten.

I haven’t properly cried since I was a boy. I may have shed one or two tears, the last at Màiri’s funeral, but very few things have brought me close to sobbing. Being enveloped in the floral scent that uniquely belongs to my mum, knowing I have to utter these words, is enough to undo the stoicism attached to my nature.

Our relationship has been strained since I found out she was keeping secrets from me, but it doesn’t matter anymore. She’s the only person who can understand the ache and fear twisting inside me.

She pulls her head away, cupping my cheek in her hand. “What is it, Callahan?”

My uncle hovers behind us, waiting for my answer, as a look passes between me and my mother. She knows. Before I even speak, she recognizes the hurt and agony that only comes with being a twin and losing them.

Her eyes glass over and tears cascade down her beautiful face. “Rachel?”

◆◆◆

Brodie is still sat on the edge of Rachel’s bed, her hand in his, when I arrive with my mother’s arm tucked into the crook of my elbow. Lorna is bustling around my sister’s body, with potions and devices that look more like weapons than healers’ tools, and Elsie is hovering by the window of the bedroom.

When she sees us, she pushes off from the wall and places a hand on Brodie’s shoulder. “Come on, let Reyne make you something to eat.” She doesn’t allow Brodie to give her no for an answer, and all but drags him into the living area where Reyne and Eòghann wait.

Meanwhile, Mother locks in on Rachel.

Someone has cleaned her face in the short while I’ve been gone, and she’s now tucked beneath the sheets, wearing a loose cotton T-shirt. My uncle waits by the door, his mask in place, but here for his family in whatever way we need.

My mother hesitates before she occupies Brodie’s spot, and fusses with the sheets tucked around her daughter.

“My darling girl.” Mother’s voice is strained but steady, and she places a hand on Rachel’s forehead. “What happened, Callahan? How did she . . .”