Hidden Sidhe

By Christy G. Thomas

When Morgan and her twin sisters had secured the Northern Gateway to the Otherworld, they were certain that the breach had been contained. But now that young women are being found dead with their chests ripped open, the ruling Inner Ring requires Sidhe intervention to ensure that no creature from the Otherworld is on a rampage. Just when sixteen-year-old Ban Sidhe (banshee), Morgan, thought her life in Finias was going back to normal, the murders in southeastern Idaho pull her back into the bizarre human world. In order to fulfill her next step in the journey of becoming the next High Queen of the Ban Sidhe, Morgan must investigate the happenings in the small town of Lava Hot Springs. But as she struggles to attend high school and pretend to be human, can she forget her parents' absence and focus on finding a mass murderer before he finds her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christy G. Thomas
• Release date: Jun 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301713080

Christy G. Thomas

Christy Thomas lives in Meridian, Idaho with her husband, daughter, and one crazy labradoodle named Mr. Darcy. She writes fiction and teaches high school language arts. Christy loves camping in the various landscapes of Idaho which help serve as inspiration for her novels.In 2003 she earned her BA in English (Literature) from Boise State University.She has written several novels and has more in the works. She is the author of the young adult modern fantasy novel, Sidhe’s Call, the first in the Keening Trilogy.

Book preview

Chapter One

Through dusty farmland, the golden-haired girl crawled on hands and knees, chest thudding so loudly she could no longer hear the sound of crisp footsteps following close behind. She cried out one name only – an indiscernible, nonsensical name – the word making it to no ears except to the one who crept silently behind, witnessing the fruition of his plan.

With one last burst of energy she hoarsely wailed, Help me! But the distant farmhouse was only dimly lit by the evening’s dying fireplace.

More helpless clawing at the dry earth as her body collapsed to the ground, her torn blouse sending a waft of dust into the air. Turning over in the late spring air, she took one last glimpse of the night sky. Its full moon shone down on her before the fog fell, obscuring her vision, blurring her thoughts even more than they were when he first arrived in her life.

No use. No soul awake to hear her pleas. Once the choking mists settled in, there would be no hope for someone coming to her aid.

She didn’t have to see him to know he was there; she had known his familiar voice, his meaningful gestures, and the touch of his hot breath on her shoulder. Even from yards away she knew his presence. Another sense had always awakened in her whenever he came near, but now this was accompanied by a new pain. A deep suffering that took over her entire body.

Nooooo, she wailed in a low moan which rose to match the searing pain in her chest.

Indecipherable whispers of his voice filled her ears as she stared blankly into the mist, her body unable to move any further, no struggle left in her. Then through the grey she saw the outline of his shape, and her mind was conflicted. She couldn’t remember if she feared or loved him.

Let go, he whispered, his full lips barely moving as he hovered over her shuddering frame.

She shook her head, sweat gleaming on her pale brow, blonde curls stuck to the outline of her delicate face. Faster, her heart beat, the pain rushing as her blood surged in and out.

Let go, he whispered again, his face donning a welcoming smile.

Staring up into his dark eyes she cried out, and the drumming of her chest rose to full crescendo. Her torso heaved between the rows of sprouting rye. Suddenly, her body crashed one last time to the ground, and an explosion of pain ripped through her chest until she moved no more.

Minutes later, he did not leave a shadow as he casually walked away from the still body, hands in pockets, and wooden pipe in mouth, leaving a thin trail of smoke in his wake. Mist retreated and the farmland fell silent, except for a low snicker echoing through the valley.

Chapter Two

Dimmed orbs were brought up to full light as I walked past the massive oak doors and into the Chapel at the center of Finias’ rolling hills. While the outside looked like any other mound in our small Sidhe village, the inside revealed another form altogether. The walls made of live trees reached to the doming ceiling of branches, letting fresh air and bits of natural light into the round room.

A silver Ellylon, the miniature Sidhe who maintained the Chapel, cheerily guided me through the chatting crowd of black and burgundy. My green cloak stood out among the adult Sidhe, and several stopped mid-conversation to look at me. Most faces were smiling and most nods were approving, but a few wrinkled faces blankly stared down at me. I continued to follow the lithe, flying Ellylon to my seat. My cushion was moved from its normal position and placed in the center of the circling cushions that filled the round Chapel. A total of four large pillows were placed in one straight line in the center of the circles—one solid green, another black with red splotches, a third one white, and the last one my unmistakable gold with embroidered and darkly iridescent crows.

Apparently I’m not the only one receiving orders today, I thought as I sat down and crossed my legs. I spread my cloak around me, ensuring that I looked as professional as possible in front of the other High Sidhe. I did not need to embarrass anyone today, especially myself.

I searched the room for any other green cloaks. Surely they would also stand out among the others. Green was the mark of the Incanted—a transition stage for Ban Sidhe between age sixteen and twenty-two. During that time, if one was selected by the Inner Ring to join their ranks, the green cloak would be traded for burgundy. If not, the Sidhe denied the sacred status would wear black and be privy to only select amounts of information from the Inner Ring. My joining of the Inner Ring was pretty much a given—as long as I didn’t screw up anything with my Incantation stage. No one really wanted to deny the next High Queen access to the coveted burgundy robe—that would be a shame put upon our kind to have a High Queen of ordinary status.

Still, as I looked about the Chapel, I couldn’t find a green cloak in sight. I thought back to my days of learning at the training grounds of Finias, mentally placing who was the same age as me. The list wasn’t long in my small world—six others, to be exact. Four girls: Sarah, Muriel, Bevan, and Rosaleen. Two boys: Ronan and Owen.

Which of the three will be joining me? I wondered, looking over at the three empty spots. I had been gone from Finias so much that I did not keep up on which students my age had attained their talents.

Five minutes and still no sign of the other Incanted in green.

I stared off at the walls which were hung with the colors of the various specialties of the Ban Sidhe. The weatherworkers' blue-swirling flag cut on the bias by a golden thunderbolt. Or the Transfigurines' gold brocade cloth shining in the lights, so simple yet powerful in its meaning. The round hall was strung with a rainbow of flags and symbols; all coincided with the personalized seats covering the floor like a bull's-eye. A gleaming silver sword and shield hung directly opposite the entrance, but the stone floor was bare save the seats placed in concentric circles. Being surrounded by so much tradition reminded me of Father and how he spent hours at the Chapel, away from the family. Mother was always so proud of his work, and she always made sure we were properly taken care of when he was absent for long stretches of time.

He’s been missing for over two years now, I thought. She had been gone even longer.

Shortly after Father left Finias to scout for possible Sidhe settlements, it was as if he had just disappeared off the earth. He had said goodbye to me one morning, leaving his prized silver coin in my possession, promising he would be back soon after he completed his search for the ideal town in which to begin his experiment of having Sidhe live hidden among humans. But he had never come back. Father wouldn’t have willingly left us, especially after Mother went missing. I still clung to the hope that his absence was not his choice.

If he met with foul play, it could only mean one thing—someone who didn’t like his ideas went after him. There was only one subversive group who was rumored to still exist among the Sidhe who was capable of such a thing—the Chain of Constance. The Chain was an ancient order who supposedly went out of existence when my ancestors first crossed the mighty seas to the new world. The Chain was outnumbered when the High Sidhe voted to spread from the old world, to follow the progeny of the five families we swore to protect and keen to the Otherworld.

Keening was such an important task. When one of the members of the five families approached their appointed time of death, one of the Ban Sidhe would be assigned to call forth the death, hoping to bring comfort to the one passing on and his or her family. Unfortunately, most humans do not view death the same way as Sidhe. Humans see it as the end—unless, of course, they believe in an afterlife—but even if they believe in heaven, most of them still fear death. Sidhe, on the other hand, welcome the transition from one form to another. Life does not end. One just moves from one stage to the next.

In our ritual keening, we first scream our warning to only the ears of the one who will die, also known as a ward. That is followed by a second call which is heard by the ward's family. Finally, the last call is made right before the person's death—this one is heard by the surrounding community. Our calls tend to frighten many humans, and it still surprises me why it would not be a comfort for them to know when their time is coming.

If the Chain had its way, we would have remained in the old world and only watched over and keened those who lived close to the homeland. But in the view of others, there would have been many souls in the world left to die without our promise kept.

Yet, the Chain was traditional—more so than even the Inner Ring—and if it had still existed it would have been in direct opposition of my father’s plans. It was even rumored that the Chain was behind the springtime breach at the Northern Gateway. They would surely want to show how humans and Sidhe would not coexist by creating a catastrophe.

Surely the Chain's members could hide among us. That was how the Chain of Constance worked—an elaborate network of secret messages and membership that baffled even the wisest of seers. Of course, it would not have surprised me if Muirna—the mistress and leader of the Inner Ring who always sneered at me when given a chance—was a member herself.

Yes, only the Chain would stop Father. Of that I was certain.

I pulled the leather necklace out from under my cloak and studied both sides of the silver coin. One side revealed the profile of a man wearing a crown with a scepter before his face, while the other depicted a cross with four stars and bore words I could not read. I ran my thumb over its surface, as though it would give answers to my father’s whereabouts.

I used to wake up each morning, hoping to hear his booming voice in our quaint mound in Finias, but each time, I had been disappointed. My sisters, Bridget and Branna, had tried to help me adjust to his absence, but ever since we were christened the triad of the Thousand-Year Sidhe, they had been busy with their assigned duties. And besides that, I had stopped listening for Father’s voice since the Siege at the Northern Gateway a few short months ago. If I had not seen him there, was it even possible that he would suddenly appear one day?

More Sidhe were filtering into the Chapel, their voices filling the room with rippling noise. I tucked the coin back under my cloak, keeping it safe and close.

Besides missing Father, I was still trying to figure out if I even wanted to become the High Queen of the Sidhe. After helping reseal the Northern Gateway to the Otherworld and watching someone I cared about perish in a needless battle, I couldn’t imagine what to do next with my life. The Inner Ring had given me time to make my decision on whether to be a normal Ban Sidhe and live on earth for another few hundred years or accept my place with my two sisters, shepherding human souls to the Otherworld. If I chose to become Queen, I would have to live on earth for one-thousand years. I would also be responsible for making sure humans did not take notice of my kind or start any type of human-Sidhe wars.

Just your typical saving-the-world type of business. No big deal. Watching everyone move on and leave me behind would be loads of fun, I thought. Who was I kidding? I didn't have many friends in Finias anyway.

The crowd began to quiet as Sidhe shuffled to their appointed seats. Muirna appeared from behind me, emerging from one of the many doors which lined the back wall of the Chapel. Based on my limited experiences in the Chapel, one of the rooms contained a stone table used for training Transfigurine, but I didn’t know what secrets were held behind the other doors. Even the one from which Muirna came.

Her burgundy cloak billowed as she swiftly walked toward the center of the room where I sat. Her boney hands protruded from the ends of her sleeves like claws. I always forgot she was Onora's sister—they were nothing alike. In fact, I had not realized the connection until after the Siege at the Northern Gateway when Onora mentioned her sister in passing. I had been shocked. Muirna was so cold and thin, while Onora was plump and kind. Muirna was a stickler for the rules, while Onora was always the one to look for a loophole. But perhaps it was like that for me and my sisters—how much alike were we, really?

Good afternoon, Muirna addressed the crowd, her tiny mouth barely moving. Not once had she looked at me since entering the Chapel.

I searched the settled congregation for a familiar face. Anything that would keep me from thinking too long about the empty cushions to my right. I found my foster-father—and my father's best friend—Burke three rows back, his wide and dimpled smile showing his support. He nodded when we made eye contact.

Muirna stood in front of me and to my right, her thin body obstructing my view of the Chapel’s entrance. Our business requires prompt attention this afternoon. However, before we begin our Assigning of the Incanted and bring the youths into our midst, it is imperative that we address Morgan’s very, she paused to search for the word, unique situation. She finally looked back at me, but her cold expression sent shivers.

Definitely could be one of the Chain, I thought, suspicion growing in my mind.

I half-smiled, hoping I didn’t look too surprised to the crowd of my superiors. Although I had fulfilled the prophecy a few months ago and emerged as the next High Queen of the Sidhe, my position was not official. While I did not feel ready for the job, it was moments like this that I wished I already held my position of authority over the High Sidhe who constantly mocked me with their scornful gazes.

All in time, I told myself as I held my steady watch over the assembly, but Muirna’s look still floated in the back of my mind.

As you all know, Morgan is slated to join her sisters in their illustrious roles, but chose, for now, to enter her period of Assignment just like any of the other Incanted. A few in the crowd lightly clapped, but Muirna was quick to silence them. However, her placement is a bit troubling, for, as many of you are well-aware, Morgan has more experience now than many of you have had in your entire existence. ‘How does one challenge the future High Queen?’ you may ask. She looked about the room as though searching for an answer, her thin eyebrows arched. Simple, she answered. Her slithering voice echoed through the room as she paused for effect. She shall select her own task.

The room erupted in waves of astonished whispers. My eyes went wide as I tried to keep from reacting to the news. Normally, the Incanted were given missions to prove themselves to the rest of the clan—I knew that much—but never had an Incanted selected her own test.

Once again, our young queen has a choice to make, Muirna said to the crowd and then turned to me. Rise, Morgan.

I slowly stood next to the withered seer, the shock of Muirna’s announcement still running through my brain. I worried I would make the wrong choice and select something at which I would surely fail, or perhaps I would pick something too easy and be laughed at.

My mind raced back to the days when Branna and Bridget had undergone their own Assignments prior to becoming High Sidhe. Father and Mother were both still around, home was still a peaceful place, and my sisters were coming into their own. I did not know the particulars of their assignments—I suppose I was just too young to completely understand—but I did know that my sisters were always bustling around with excitement. My parents could not be more proud. It was at that same time that my father started seriously taking his ideas to the Inner Ring for possible approval of Ban Sidhe settling in human areas. Everyone had been so full of happiness, and none of us had any idea that only a few years later that would come to an end.

Muirna's cold voice brought me back to the ceremony and the group of Sidhe watching me. One, you may work here with Tallulah—with whom you are familiar—and construct a new stone Transfiguring table for our European clans. It requires much focus and honing of not only your transfiguring skills, but also your artistic talents. You would also need to travel with Tallulah to deliver the new Transfigurine table.

I took it all in, carefully picking apart my first choice. Working with Tallulah would be a definite learning experience, and before I could become the full queen, I would need more knowledge about shifting. But working with the deformed Sidhe in the golden scarf? Frankly, she had bothered me ever since our first meeting, and to top it off, she was one of Muirna's cronies.

Two, the Rectory of Runes is in need of organization. Harold could use an extra set of hands in sorting the scrolls. From what he’s told me, such extensive cleaning and organizing has not taken place in one hundred years. He will also teach you more of the old speech and runes so you will know how to read and place the scrolls.

High Sidhe Harold had a reputation as bizarre as Tallulah's. But where Tallulah was harsh and cruel, Harold was quite the opposite. He was flighty, abstract, and accident-prone. I wasn’t sure if we would be the best combination working with the priceless Sidhe records because there would likely be an accident.

And three, Muirna’s voice lowered, and her eyes glimmered in the orb-lit room. Unnatural events are occurring south of Finias—events which beg for our attention. At first I believed the incidents to be the acts of humans, which they very well could be. However, the Inner Ring has decided that the deaths are worthy of our close inspection.

Deaths? I thought; the word brought a sour taste to my mouth. I’d had my fill of death in the past few months.

Apparently I was not the only one to whom this was news. The Sidhe in black cloaks raised their voices, some nudging the nearest burgundy-cloaked High Sidhe, seeking answers.

Muirna raised her voice, drowning out the crowd. Something is on the loose! she shouted. It may be an Otherworld being which slipped past our defenses this past Beltane and was not detected by the young queen’s sisters. But the Inner Ring has determined that it is our duty to ensure that none from our realm are responsible for the grisly murders of these young women.

Murder? I whispered to myself.

The three tasks flew about me as the crowd came to the same realization: it was my choice. Face an unknown creature in an equally alien place? Or stay in Finias, improving my skills and discovering new abilities?

Silence hung in the air.

All eyes were trained on me, and at that moment I knew why I was sitting in the middle of the massive hall, alone. This was classified business. Secrets which the other Incanted could not know.

Muirna turned to me and asked, Your answer? Well, what will it be?

I didn’t have to think about it long to know the answer. The first two choices were safe. Maybe Muirna was setting me up for a challenge, but I knew I would not disappoint. Three, I replied, and my nervous voice rang through the quiet hall. I choose the murders.

The crowd slowly clapped. No longer did they smile or shout their approval. I panicked. Did I make the wrong choice? I glanced to where Burke sat, and he looked at me with tears in his eyes.

Bridget and Branna, I pled, searching the room for my sisters. They would let me know if I made the right choice. I saw them at the back of the room, standing together against the wall with three other Sidhe. Bridget was busy whispering with Onora, and I could not see either of their faces. But Branna stood with arms crossed, staring at me, and the hint of a smile at the corner of her lips.

Things are going to be different, I thought.

Very well! Muirna shouted, ushering me back to my seat. The look on the old Sidhe's face told me that she approved of my decision and the crowd's reaction. It is decided. Morgan shall help investigate the murders and hopefully entrap the creature or human which is causing such problems. Onora! she shouted to the back. Onora turned; her face was blank. You shall instruct Morgan in all that we know about the incidents in the deserts to the southeast.

Onora bowed her head slightly and went back to talking in hushed tones with Bridget.

Now it is time for the rest of our appointments! Muirna announced, clapping her hands.

With the last clap, another door in the back of the Chapel swung