Children of the Veil

By Colleen Halverson

Elizabeth Tanner has one goal: to find her mother in whatever dimension she’s imprisoned. But to do that, she has to face her estranged father, and to do that, she needs a shot of whiskey…or seven. But after an attempt on her life and the return of her lost love, she wakes up with one hell of a hangover and a whole barrage of questions.

Finn O’Connell doesn’t know why the Fianna want him to aid Elizabeth in her search, but he’ll take any excuse to be near her again. Together, they dive headlong into the shadows of her mother’s secrets and find themselves embroiled in a Fae rebellion that will test Finn’s loyalties and their love.

With the Faerie realm verging on chaos, Elizabeth and Finn will embark on a quest that will lead them from the streets of Chicago to London’s seedy Fae underground. But rescuing Elizabeth’s mother means journeying to a place Finn can’t follow, and Elizabeth is forced to make a choice between finding her at last or saving her own soul.

The Aisling Chronicles are best enjoyed in order.
Reading Order:
Book #1 Through The Veil
Book #2 Children of the Veil
Book #3 Echoes from the Veil

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Oct 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781633757738

Book preview

For my parents

Chapter One

The whiskey nestled in my belly like a hibernating animal. Despite the blizzard raging outside, a trickle of sweat beaded on my forehead. The press of warm bodies slammed me against the bar, and the smell of patchouli and hipster BO filled my nostrils, the blast of retro 80s music echoing across the black walls of the club. I raised my shot glass into the air, and the bartender nodded with a sly wink, his hand palming a bottle of Jameson. A few drops of whiskey landed on my palm as he sloshed it into my glass before moving on to another customer. I licked the spicy alcohol off my hand and gave the side-eye to his weak pour.

Erika smiled at me as I threw back the shot. Hitting it pretty hard tonight? she shouted over the din of the club.

I winced, rubbing at the sweet ache in my chest. I’m going to see my father tomorrow. Need to work up to it.

The synthesized ring of some one-hit wonder bled into my ear, the kaleidoscope lights flashing over the roving packs of revelers as they splashed beer on the chipped linoleum dance floor. A tangled mass of limbs moved in time with the pounding bass, and I blinked as the room dipped out of focus for a moment, the dancers turning into a writhing monster.

My heart skipped, my aisling powers flooding through my arms. I clenched my fists, letting the fizzy, electric-spark feeling subside. Maybe I should have stayed at home, but Erika had showed up at my doorstep, took one look at me, and dragged me out into civilization. Good thing, too, because tomorrow I planned to say good-bye to everything and hop on a bus to DC to find my dad. I could have used my powers to travel there, maybe save a few bucks in the process, but since returning from Tír na nÓg, I needed to get back to some sort of normal, even if normal meant doing shots with my best grad school pal, Erika.

I raised my hand in the air again, motioning to the bartender for another drink. Erika glanced at the tattoos lacing my wrists. She hadn’t asked questions when I showed up on her doorstep a month ago. Just took one look at me standing shivering in the snow, ushered me into her living room, and offered me a beer. This is why I loved Erika. She took all comers.

She nudged my shoulder. Are you sure you want to leave?

Buzzed, I blurted out, The bar?

She laughed. No. Grad school. The Celtic Studies Institute. It’s a shame about what happened with Dr. Forrester, with the accident and all, but…

The accident. Somehow the Fianna had made the brutal attack on my advisor look like a fiery car crash, hiding all traces of the way the monstrous creature had pumped his body full of venom and torn him apart. I still hadn’t visited his grave. I couldn’t bring myself to.

As for The Celtic Studies Institute, I had only returned once to clean out my study space, pick up a few personal belongings, and make sure Candace, the intern, was all right. Someone mentioned she had transferred to another school, and she hadn’t left a forwarding address. Erika was my last connection to St. Brendan’s University, and the blunt pain of closing that chapter of my life felt raw and final. I once had so many dreams for my future, but they now lay crumpled with the rest of my papers and notes at the bottom of the recycling bin in the reading room of the Institute.

I waggled my fingers in the air, trying to make eye contact with the bartender. He had a lumberjack beard and a tattoo of a bicycle on his neck. Hot hippie heaven. He caught my stare and smiled, lifting his large hand in a gesture of patience. Those hands would feel good around my waist or palming my breasts. I bet he preferred the lights on, the amber beads around his neck tracing a seductive line down my abdomen as he settled his scruffy face between my legs. He was a giver. You could tell. The next day he would make me vegan pancakes with a side of kale and tofu scramble. My stomach rumbled, and I realized I hadn’t eaten that day. Kale. Tofu. Didn’t matter. Nothing tasted good anymore. Since the day I left Finn in that tower, all I wanted was the burn of whiskey on my tongue and a random warm body to replace the ache he left behind. I gripped the edge of the bar, a plan forming in my head about the most tactful way to ask the bartender when he would get off work.

I turned to Erika. I’m done with Celtic Studies. No jobs there anyway. I cupped my hand on the top of my shot glass, creating suction before letting it clatter back to the bar. I want to find out more about my mom.

Like figuring out which hidden dimension she’s holed up in.

Night after night for the past month, I threw my energy out into the world, searching desperately through the astral plane for her spirit. I knew she still lived, but she certainly didn’t exist in this reality.

She traced a snowflake design into the condensation on her pint glass. Do you think you’ll go to Ireland?

Flashes of my last trip to Ireland flooded my brain. Carolan’s death. Amergin’s prisoner. My marriage to Bres. My throat tightened and a shudder of anxiety rushed through me. My hands gripped tight around the shot glass, and I thumped it on the bar, beating a sharp tattoo in rhythm with a Psychedelic Furs song. I had to get ahold of myself.

I spied the bartender on the other end of the bar now lost in conversation with a manic-pixie dream girl, her gossamer maxi dress billowing around her barstool in light green waves. Who the hell wears a maxi dress in a goddamn blizzard? She threw back her head and laughed at a joke the bartender made. They snickered, their heads almost knocking together.

I raised my hand to grab his attention. Excuse me!

The hipster looked up with a slight eye roll before returning with the bottle. You sure you don’t want to switch to something lighter, sweetheart?

You sure you don’t want to mind your own business? I slapped a five-dollar bill on the bar. "Sweetheart?" He poured the liquor and moved on, crumpling the money in his hand. I laughed to myself, saluting the back of my would-be boy toy for the evening.

Erika eyed me nervously.

I gave her a bright, placating smile. Sure, maybe Ireland. We’ll see.

Erika’s fiancé John came back from the bathroom, and he brushed her arm and whispered something in her ear with a kiss. Then turning to me, he grinned, flashing a pair of dimples in his all-star quarterback face. Cheers to you, Elizabeth. For having the good sense to get out of graduate school while you still can.

I laughed and we clinked our glasses. Throwing back the shot, I let out a spluttering gasp as the liquor stole my breath. Swallowing hard, I closed my eyes, letting the warmth bloom in my belly. When I opened my eyes again, it took a moment for the room to stop spinning. Blinking rapidly, I peered into the speckled mirror behind the bar. Through the pulsing shadows and shifting lights, a pair of steely eyes bore right through me. My heartbeat raced, a spark of longing taking flame deep in my core. I slammed my glass and whirled around.

"Finn?"

I scanned the faces in the boiling mess of dancing forms, distorted and ghoulish in the black lights. I leaned against the bar, rubbing my forehead. Maybe it was a trick of the light. My subconscious piecing together his face because it was the only face I wanted to see in the reflection. I stared through the crowd, emptiness eating away my insides like napalm. The phantom ache seeped into my veins and down my arms, my hands clenching with the desire to touch Finn’s smooth skin, run my hands through his silky hair. Instinctively, my hand slipped inside my coat pocket where I stowed the small volume of Yeats poetry he had given me. My fingers traced the leather binding, its presence near my heart reassuring. Shaking my head, I turned back to the bar.

You guys need another drink? I said absently.

I turned, expecting to see Erika and John, but they had left for the dance floor. Instead, perched on a stool sat a heavily pierced and tattooed punk rock dude with spiky blue hair. His eyes swept over me and he cracked a devilish smile.

"No, but I can buy you a drink, he said in an Irish accent, raising his hand for the bartender. What are you having?"

Um, Jameson, I mumbled, my brain fuzzy as I spied Erika and John whirling around, a peal of laughter escaping Erika’s lips as John dipped her. I turned back to the blue-haired guy, memories of Finn still occupying my mind. With a deep breath, I shoved them back and focused on the punk rock hottie next to me.

You’re Irish? I said.

I am. He winked and pushed a shot into my hands. And you’re beautiful.

I snorted and slammed the whiskey, shuddering before setting the glass back on the bar. A wave of cheers swept through the club as the DJ put on How Soon is Now? Bodies flooded the dance floor, arms flying through the air as the familiar beat echoed against the low ceiling. Closing my eyes, the rhythm wrapped around my limbs, and I swayed in a fever, letting Morrissey’s crooning voice wash over me.

A strong hand spread across my back, holding me upright. Watch yourself!

What’s your name? I slurred in his ear as he pressed me against his chest.

Kent. A wide smile cracked across his impish face. And what do they call you, lovely? His hand slipped over my hip, tracing an invisible oval up against my spine and down across my ass. I was far from caring about Mr. Grabby Hands at that point. If he could keep me from thinking about Finn for five minutes, he was a viable candidate for at least one evening.

Moving to the music, I traced the studs marking the lapels of his jacket, mumbling lyrics under my breath in reply.

What?

A giggle escaped my lips, and I doubled over with laughter, my power tingling in my hands, the desire to travel, to move objects, to smash wards bubbling up inside me. The guitar riff blurred in and out, and a surge of energy rushed through my body. I needed release, the pain of holding it in overflowing through me.

Kent leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. He smelled like clove cigarettes, whiskey, and man. You wanna dance?

Any Fae can dance.

I flung my arm around Kent’s broad shoulders. Yes! But it sounded more like Yesssh, which only made me laugh harder.

Pulling me out onto the dance floor, he placed his hands on my hips and I closed my eyes, moving with the beat. One of his hands swept across my shoulders, and I shivered, the press of his fingers guiding me where to go, bringing me in close to him until I could almost taste the alcohol on his breath. His hips brushed close to mine, and a hot spring of desire uncoiled in my abdomen, the music moving our bodies in perfect rhythm.

The song ended and Nine Inch Nails blasted in my ear. Kent’s hands practically held me up, strong and capable. I could lose myself in those hands. Forget everything.

Erika danced over to me and whispered in my ear over the music, He’s cute.

He’ll do, I whispered back.

Kent disappeared for a minute and came back with a round of bright green shots for all of us. I slammed back the licorice-tasting alcohol and coughed, a wave of nausea rising in my throat.

You okay? Kent put a hand on my shoulder.

His words came from the end of a long dark tunnel, his face blurring in the strobe light.

I…I think I need to sit down, I said in a garbled string of consonants, my lips numb. I took a step toward the bar, but my feet tangled together. I stumbled, banging my knee on a table. Kent’s arms propped me up, leading me across the dance floor. The world tilted out of focus, and before I knew it, the cold January night hit my face, a door clicking shut behind me. A stream of snowflakes spit through the glow of a single streetlight.

What…where… My mouth was full of cotton balls, and my back slammed against cold brick.

Shhh…

Warm lips pressed against mine, someone kissing me, a hand inching up beneath my shirt. Finn’s face swam to the surface of my mind’s eye, his eyes staring at me through the mirror. This felt wrong. Wrong hands, wrong mouth. Revulsion bubbled up in my stomach, and I broke off the kiss, trying to push Kent away, but my arms felt like concrete. My consciousness crumbled away, my knees buckling.

It’s too bad I have to kill you, aisling, Kent whispered huskily in my ear. I would have liked to have played with you a little.

Aisling? Oh, right. That’s me.

I tried to form the word no, but darkness folded over my mind, leaving me paralyzed. Beneath the haze of too many shots, a burst of panic bolted through me. But my body felt buried under layers of a thick fog, pressing me deeper into a warm oblivion. Something cold and sharp trailed along my cheek, and my eyes fluttered open.

A knife. That’s a knife.

The pain triggered me back to consciousness, the freezing wind filling my lungs.

No! I threw Kent back against the alley with a blast of energy.

He slammed into the wall with a cry of pain. My body spent, I crumpled to the ground, in the snow, trying feebly to crawl away, the stench of garbage making me gag. Kent’s hands tangled in my hair, savagely pulling my head up to meet his gaze.

Don’t… But the word came out in the barest whisper.

A ring of steel and a scream echoed through the alley. Kent broke his hold, and I collapsed facedown in the snow, my nose burning from the icy sting. Blinking and shaking snowflakes from my eyelashes, I looked up to find Finn towering over us, his sword raised and dripping with blood.

Chapter Two

Kent stared wide-eyed at the bloody stump of his wrist, his mouth opening and closing in a silent scream. His severed hand lay in the snow, the split nerves making the fingers twitch. Bright blood created rivulets in the pristine surface before the hand shriveled, turned to ash, and blew away in a gust of frost. Through alcohol and whatever Kent had slipped into my drink, my pickled brain cells put together the puzzle pieces. Kent wasn’t human.

Who are you? Finn snarled, grabbing his collar. Who sent you?

Kent glowered up at Finn. "Fir Bolgs go Brách!"

Finn’s eyes narrowed to dark slits. He released the creature and, with a flash of steel, his sword sliced through Kent’s neck, blood spattering against the dumpster. His blue-haired head tumbled to the ground and settled against a pile of blackened slush. His dead eyes faced me, and I blinked as they turned black, his face becoming more angular, ears growing and turning pointy. Before my mind could fully understand what happened, Kent’s head burst into a cloud of ash and sailed into the wind.

Finn hovered over me. Are you all right?

I meant to say, Yes, I’m fine, but it came out in a gurgle of noises.

Finn sighed and lifted me up out of the snow bank, brushing flakes from my hair.

My legs buckled and he snatched me into his arms, my head lolling against his chest. I breathed in the smell of leather, fresh folded laundry, and that pure, manly scent of Finn-ness. God, I had missed him.

Who…? I managed to say, the words feeling like caked mud in my mouth.

He didn’t answer but slipped me into his car, and I sank onto the leather seat, darkness eating the edge of my sight. The purring engine lulled me into a daze, and I must have passed out, because the next thing I knew we were stumbling up the stairs to my apartment.

I live here, I slurred.

I know, Finn mumbled, his muscled arm propping me up. Where are your keys?

Snowflakes collected on the crown of his head, his eyebrows knitting together. The curve of his mouth filled my vision, and my fingers slipped over the soft skin, tracing the delicate cupid bow on his top lip. His face softened, multiple Finns swimming through the muted streetlight.

Mmmmm… I murmured, running my hand against the side of his face, trying to keep from seeing double. Stay still.

He gently placed his hand over mine. Elizabeth, your keys. It’s freezing out here.

I brought his palm next to my face, brushing my lips against his callused fingers. Need burned through my body, and I fell against his broad chest, covering his mouth with mine with a moan. For a moment, he kissed me back, his hands pressing firm against my shoulders. The falling snow tickled my neck, sending icy trails down my spine, and I pressed into him, seeking his warmth. He made a low sound in his throat.

You’re drunk, he said.

I don’t care, I whispered into his ear.

Finn disentangled himself from my arms, and I slipped on a patch of ice, falling on my ass with a giggle. He leaned over me, patting my jeans in search for my keys. His hands strayed to my waist, tickling my side, and I laughed again, grabbing his hands.

He hovered over me, his hair grazing the firm line of his jaw. Elizabeth, stop. I mean it. Where are your keys?

He rifled through my coat pockets, and something landed on the balcony with a thud. The book of Yeats poetry lay in the snow, white powder quickly accumulating on its worn cover. Finn made to grab it, but I snatched it away, wiping it off and sticking it safely back inside my coat. He stared down at me and swallowed hard, the tinkling crystal of falling snow the only sound on the silent street.

Elizabeth… His hand brushed away a wet lock of hair plastered to my cheek.

I shrugged away, rifling through my jeans pocket for my keys, then threw them at him. A wave of dizziness washed over me and I curled up on the balcony, willing the snow to blanket me, for the winter to bury me so I could sleep for four months and reemerge whole again. Stinging numbness gripped my fingers and toes, and I shivered, burying my head against my arm.

Let’s get you inside. Finn’s arm slid beneath my shoulders and under my knees, and he picked me up like I weighed nothing. He backed into the door and then gently laid me on the bed. With a tug, he pulled off my boots and dropped them to the ground. After peeling off my jacket, he wrapped the blankets around me and sat on the edge of the bed, the side of his face lined with silver light from the window.

Do you have courage equal to desire? I said. Not my best pickup line, but I could have done worse in that moment, with about a gallon of whiskey in my belly and whatever date-rape drug my would-be assassin had slipped in my drink. I stared at Finn’s profile, willing him to look at me. To touch me. To do anything but sit there with that quiet, stony stare.

Finn’s chest rose and he let out a deep exhale. Go to sleep, Elizabeth.

The ceiling spun around like a pinwheel. I closed my eyes and turned over, thankful for the darkness.

…

My head pounded like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. I squeezed my eyes tight as a wave of nausea bubbled up through my stomach. Swallowing down a load of bile, I sat up, the room rushing around me like a tilt-a-whirl. Below the bed, Finn lay stretched out on the hardwood floor, fast asleep.

In a rush of images, the events of last night came flooding back to me—the whiskey, Kent, the knife, his bright blue head buried in the snow, kissing Finn.

Kissing Finn.

Oh, God, did I kiss Finn?

I sank back into the mattress, pulling the blankets over my head. Peeking over the covers, I stared at his face, the rise and fall of his broad chest. His long eyelashes fluttered, and his eyes shot open. With a yelp, I burrowed my head back beneath the blankets, cursing beneath my breath.

How’s the head? he asked, collecting himself up off the floor.

What are you doing here?

He ignored my question, walked over to the small kitchenette on the other side of my studio apartment, and poured a glass of water. Returning to the bed, he set the water into my hands, his fingers sending a wave of electricity through my limbs. Every nerve in my body awakened to his touch, and I curled my legs beneath me, pulling the blanket closer to my chest.

You need to rehydrate, he said.

I took a swig of water, the cool liquid easing the ache in my head for a moment.

I gave Finn a sheepish glance. Who was that guy? The one you…you know.

He crossed his arms around his chest. ‘That guy’ was an assassin sent to kill you, which you might have noticed if you weren’t so busy getting drunk and grinding on him.

I wasn’t drunk!

Finn gave me a pointed stare.

Ok, I was. I glanced down at my glass. But the dude must have slipped me a roofie or something. And it did something weird to my…my powers. I shouldn’t have been that out of it. I took another sip of water and shrugged. As for the grinding part…

My face flushed remembering Kent’s hands on my hips, the way I pressed my breasts against him as he held me close. I guess Finn had seen that.

Jesus.

What can I say? I’m a lovey drunk. I pressed my palm to my forehead, massaging my throbbing temples.

Finn’s face darkened. I watched you. How many shots of whiskey did you have? Eight? Ten? Are you trying to kill yourself?

I slammed the glass of water onto the nightstand. Don’t lecture me. You’re not my fucking father.

The shrillness of my voice sent the little drill in my brain probing deeper, and I pressed my arm across my face, resting my elbow on my knee.

There’s a hit on your life, Elizabeth! Finn paced the tiny room, his head grazing the ceiling. You could have died last night. If I had not been there…

There’s a hit on my life? I brushed away my ratted hair.

Well, obviously! Finn threw up his hands. Why else would you explain that Fir Bolg trying to kill you?

Fir Bolg…? I said.

Yes, Fir Bolg, ‘the First Men of Ireland’? What one of them wanted with you, I have no idea. I’m just glad I was there in time.

"What were you doing there? I sat up straighter in bed. Are you following me?"

No! he cried. Then he started pacing again. Well, maybe…

I don’t want you stalking me, Finn. It’s over, all right!

Finn stopped, and his eyes flickered to my coat draped across the overstuffed armchair in the corner. My cheeks burned and I swallowed hard, the inscription in the book, beneath No Second Troy, branded into my brain.

Love always, Finn.

I know it’s over, Elizabeth, he said quietly. You made that very clear in Tír na nÓg.

"Yes, after you lied to me."

I never lied to you.

Lying by omission is still lying, Finn.

He sighed and looked like he was going to say something, but then he shook his head and tried again. Yes, I followed you to the club last night, but I needed to speak to you. I am here on business, actually. And… He crossed his arms and held up his chin. I don’t regret saving your life.

His eyes softened, and for a moment my steely resolve against letting Finn back into my life melted. But then I recalled the last time I saw him, how cavalier he’d been about holing me up in his tower and keeping me as his mistress. I was no kept woman, and besides…I had bigger plans. Plans that involved searching for my mother and making sure Amergin didn’t find her first.

Well, thanks. I pointed to the door. Now I wish you would leave.

A shadow crossed over his eyes, but he recovered with a shake of his head. I will leave as soon as this business is settled.

What business?

He tilted his head. The business of Dr. Forrester’s will, or have you not been receiving my emails?

I hadn’t checked my email since… Well, I couldn’t actually remember. Somehow after realizing I was half-Fae with super powers made modern technology seem just a little bit pedestrian.

We have a meeting with the lawyer this afternoon, he said.

I’m in Dr. Forrester’s will? My former professors, Moiré and Kevin Forrester, had been like family to me before they died. My heart tightened in my chest thinking of their warmth and generosity. They had given me everything when they lived, and it seemed strange to think they actually had more to provide now that they were gone.

The lawyer is meeting us at the main house in a couple of hours. Can you be there?

I…I guess. I hadn’t bought my bus ticket to DC yet, so I figured it could wait another day. I can’t imagine what they would leave to me.

Finn shrugged and looked around at my empty apartment. Pretty Spartan quarters you have here, Elizabeth.

I got rid of everything I owned, not that it was much. I played with a loose thread on my blanket. I’m leaving town tomorrow.

Where are you going?

I laughed a little underneath my breath. I have no idea. After throwing the sheets away and rising from my bed, I grabbed some underwear, a bra, a T-shirt, and jeans from the duffel bag containing the last of my worldly possessions. Do you mind turning around for a second?

Finn’s eyes danced with barely suppressed mischief. I know what you look like naked.

I thumbed the lacy edging of my bra, suppressing the shiver of desire running through me. One smoldering stare, and I was ready to hand him my panties in a gift basket.

Jesus, Finn, I whispered.

He crossed his arms and raised his chin, as if daring me to defy him.

Come on. Cut it out. I sighed.

Very well. He raised his hands in mock surrender and turned around.

I stripped completely, never letting my gaze leave his back. The sound of my clothes hitting the floor felt unbearably loud, and the tension in the air tightened between us. The cold draft in the apartment hit my naked skin like a wall of ice, and my necklace with the tree of life stamped on a small silver medallion dangled between my breasts.

Have you been drinking like that a lot? Finn’s voice startled me.

No, I lied, pulling my jeans up over my hips. Erika and John wanted to give me a good send off. They’re grad school friends.

Have you thought about talking to someone? Finn turned his head slightly toward me, forgetting himself. Spying me pulling on my bra, he flushed and stared back at the wall. About, you know, what happened?

I choked out a laugh, pulling my sweater over my head. Like a therapist? Are you kidding?

He shrugged. I don’t know.

And what would I say? My Fae grandparents made me marry a Dark Lord who used my superpowers to try to destroy the world? Yeah…okay. Whatever.

I just worry about you.

The silence stretched out between us, and I stood behind him, my hands twitching to reach out and touch the back of his neck, the wide expanse of his shoulders. I could have done it. One touch and we could have fallen into bed, escaped inside each other. But then what? It would have felt good for a few moments, and then more pain. More loneliness. Buckets of it. Oceans of it.

Well, don’t. Stepping into the bathroom to brush my teeth, I cringed at the sight of myself in the mirror. Dark circles hung beneath my eyes, and my long curly hair stood up from my head in defiance of all the laws of physics. After splashing some cold water on my face, I pulled the wild strands back into a ponytail. Stepping into the main living area and grabbing my coat, scarf, and hat, I turned to Finn. I need coffee.

He shrugged into his coat. I could go get some for you if you like.

The walls of the tiny studio closed in on me, and I wound my scarf tighter around my neck. No, I could use some air to clear my head. I glanced at the empty space. You can wait here, or—

He shook his head, opening the front door for me and gesturing outside into the frigid February air. I have some things to talk to you about.

I locked the door behind us, my cheeks burning despite the biting wind outside. Not this again. Look, I told you…

Not that, he snapped, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It’s…Jaysus it’s freezing. Let’s take my car."

Grabbing onto the railing, I half slid down the icy steps. Nah, the coffee shop is just a few blocks from here. Wouldn’t be worth it to find a parking space.

A fresh blanket of snow covered the sidewalks. Salty slush stained Finn’s gleaming dress shoes as we crossed the road, and I felt a pang of regret for not taking him up for his offer for a ride. My toes were toasty in my combat boots, but I bet his feet were freezing. We trudged through the Forrester’s neighborhood and onto a busy street lined with coffee shops, a bagel place, and an antique bookstore. Cars crunched and skidded on the snow-packed streets, and I led Finn to a rundown diner on the corner.

I know it’s a dive, I said, skipping over a sheet of black ice. But the food’s good. And cheap.

He held the door open for me and a bell chimed, announcing our arrival. The smell of maple syrup and bacon greeted us as we settled into a red leather booth.

A middle-aged waitress waddled up to our table. What can I get you?

I’ll have a coffee, and whatever she wants. Finn cocked his head toward me.

You’re buying me breakfast?

Finn drummed his fingers on the table and gave me a hooded stare. A lady never pays.

Especially when that lady is flat-ass broke, I countered. Smiling, I turned to the waitress. I’ll have a Western omelet with cheddar cheese and hash browns. Oh, and add bacon. Could I also get a small side of blueberry pancakes and a fruit cup? And some coffee, please. A deep, gnawing hunger for anything deep fried and covered in grease had replaced my nausea, and since Finn was buying, I settled for nothing less than the best hangover helper.

The waitress brought our coffee and sauntered to the kitchen to place our order.

Finn pinched three sugar packets between his fingers and shook them before tearing them all open and unloading them into his cup.

I chuckled. You like a little coffee with your sugar?

His spoon clattered on the edge of his cup. Sorry?

Nothing. I took a sip and stole a glance at him over the rim of my mug. So the rough and tough alpha Irish warrior had a sweet tooth. Never would have guessed it. It occurred to me how little I actually knew about Finn. About his daily life, how he moves through the world. Stupid shit like his favorite color, his favorite movies. Do Fianna warriors even go to the movies?

God, who cares?

I needed to change the subject. Fast. So Amergin let you out of your cage, huh?

He does not keep me locked in a cage, but yes, I was granted permission to travel here to meet with Kevin’s lawyer. His eyes shifted to the table. But…there is something else.

Yeah? I gulped down another sip of coffee, the caffeine doing little to abate the pounding in my ears. My stomach rumbled audibly, and heat bloomed in my face.

Finn shook his head. You should eat first.

No. Tell me.

The muscle in his jaw flickered. You need breakfast.

I leaned back with a heavy sigh. Oh my God, just tell me.

You haven’t been eating. Finn’s eyes softened, his fingers lingering on the stem of his

Reviews for Children of the Veil

[lydia_perversius · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Holy wow, you guys, I'm seriously blown away with what I just read! Yikes, I need to sort through that enormous mess of thoughts and emotions in my head!!!So, anyway, Elizabeth has broken things up with Finn and decided she will look for her mother, while making sure she doesn't ever become a sacrificial bride again, or let the Fae politics drag her down. However, things rarely go as planned, and she soon finds herself by Finn's side again, both working together in order to locate Niamh, stop a war, survive the bloodthirst of the Fir Bolgs, and making sure to keep as much out of the Fianna's clutches as possible... Can they get a second chance in their love - and live to tell the tale about it?Honestly, I figured Lizzie went through enough suffering during the first book. I mean, getting married to Bres and tolerating all that abuse, well, what more could be done to break her? But I was wrong, and despite the fact the events in the second book nearly left me mentally crippled, I was delighted to be so!Colleen Halverson did a majestic job of bringing more trouble on her heroine's way, but it wasn't only that. The physical suffering Lizzie had to experience was bad enough, but the emotional scars? Pretty badass on the auhor's part, and totally ruining us as readers, if you ask me. Lizzie had to live through continuous betrayal, from every side possible, and by the first half of the book, I swear I was like "Ok, no, this guy can't be trusted. That one either - DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT THE OTHER ONE!". I developed trust issues. Against fictional beings. Job VERY well done, Mrs. Halverson!!!The romance, despite its rough start, escalated rather hotly and in our favor once Finn stopped all that holding back. I wanted him killed in the previous book, but I admit I warmed up to him after seeing how far he was willing to go for Elizabeth. And, OK, his resourcefulness in intimate... situations didn't hurt... *whistles*The story was full of twists, and, if you haven't figured it out yet, there was no certainty for the true colors of any character. So it was really exciting to see what would happen next! Plus, there was this whole butterfly effect - when someone did something conerning magic and the Fae folk, there would be consequences, and no one, not even the main heroes, escaped that kind of law. I liked it!Now, if someone can get me a design of that swan tattoo, I'm really interested in having it on me. Oh, and I can't wait for the next book. I'm sure Lizzie, so much more matured now with all her new experiences, and after all that character growth she's gone through, will be even more amazing to read about!***I was given an ARC from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. The opinion stated in this review is solely mine, and no compensation was given or taken to alter it.***