All good things must come to an end.

  Just remember; what is an ending is also a new beginning.

  Suzu had promised to bring Tristan back to the townhouse, so I headed back to do a bit of cleaning up and try to figure out what to do with my day. I’d pocketed my keys and come round the side of the townhouse towards the garden door when I realized that someone was standing in my garden. A rather feminine someone, even though she was wearing blue jeans and a blouse. It was Rebecca Kelly, and she had a box in her hand.

  “Miss Kelly… to what do I owe this honor?” I was, in part, wary, for this young woman’s presence could only mean that her brother was nearby… and truly, the last thing I wanted in this world was to give John Kelly more of a reason to dislike me.

  “JJ said he’d leaned on you a bit, and I wanted to apologize. He can get pretty intense, and if he was ugly or overbearing in any way, I wanted to find out. I also wanted to thank you for rescuing me and not ratting me out to my brother.” The latter statement had her smiling wryly at me. She and I both knew that she’d been the reason she’d escaped so easily. Nothing I’d done had been overwhelmingly helpful. Hell, I hadn’t even had a knife.

  I shook my head, waving off her concerns, though they were valid. “No, no. It was a pleasure to assist one of Charleston’s Finest on a case. I help out when I can, and I was glad to have found you.” I couldn’t imagine what would have happened if Kelly had found her. It might not have ended quite so well.

  “Still, you went out of your way, and way off your jurisdiction,” she replied, and I could only surmise that Kelly had told her that I was with Interpol. She waved a hand at the townhouse, a clear effort at making small talk. “So… you live here? The garden is really… great. Oh my God, that sounded so pathetic.” She flushed a soft pink in her cheeks, and then awkwardly thrust the hunter green wrapped box at me. “Here. I should… go. Thanks. Again. I’ll see you around.”

  Reflex made me reach out and take the box from her, and she walked away at her last words, clearly feeling as awkward as she’d sounded. I watched her, bemused, and heard a car door open, then close. A few moments later, an engine started, and a car pulled away in the afternoon.

  I looked at the box. It was nondescript, plain wrap with white ribbon taped around it. A gold sticker sat in place of a bow, and that sticker had my name handwritten on it.

  I carried the box inside and set it on the coffee table while I dropped my keys in the drawer and went into the kitchen to rummage around for a bottle of water. I took the opportunity to restock the door and then sat in the living room and looked at the box. After a moment, I decided to open it.

  It wasn’t heavy, but there was a solid weight to it in the middle. I shook it; nothing. Finally, I stuck my fingernail up under the edge and popped the wrapping paper open. I wasn’t the type to tear the paper and ball it up, but I also wasn’t as bad as my brother, either. Xelander opened wrapped parcels with surgical precision, unwilling to open boxes until the wrapping paper was refolded and put to the side. I just let the paper fall back into form on the table.

  It looked like a jewelry box. Hinged on the back and clamshell style opening, I carefully lifted the lid and found a black folding knife, about three inches long. The note in the lid was that same determined handwriting: Thanks, Boy Scout. I was still laughing an hour later when Tristan came home.

  In retrospect, it was probably a good thing that I was laughing, because Tristan looked serious, and my laughter faded to a concern for my son that I didn’t find particularly familiar. I’d long known that Tristan could take care of himself, and that he was a far more jovial soul than I, but this new sense about him was more akin to my own. “Tristan, what’s wrong? Are you well?” I was half out of my chair when he motioned for me to sit.

  “Da, I need to talk to you. I didn’t just come stateside for no reason, but I’ve not had the courage to say it yet. And I’m sorry. All those years, I guess the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree after all, but I want to do better. I want to do right.” I felt a distinct uneasiness growing in the pit of my stomach and wondered for a moment how his felt.

  He paced for a moment, agitated, trying to form the words, and I recognized that action. I’d done it more times than I cared to count. No, that apple hadn’t fallen far at all. I rose, moving to my son and resting my hand on his shoulder. “What is it, Tristan? Whatever it is, tell me. We’ll work through it.” Hell, high water, high treason, even murder. Been there, done that, burned the t-shirt. I was his father, and I’d get him through it. Funny that, the back of my brain pointed out. It took me long enough.

  My son turned to look at me, his eyes meeting mine, and he shook his head. “It’s nothing to work through, Da. It’s… It’s home. I mean, it’s not. It’s me. The way they look at me, in pity. Like I can’t do it. Shite, Da, I don’t know what I mean.” Neither did I, but you couldn’t have paid me enough in the world to confess it at that moment. All I could do was stand there and watch the emotions flash through his face. He took a breath and tried again. “I loved her. And she’s gone. Killed on the M5 outside of Bristol.”

  And then I understood. This wasn’t just my son. This was my son in pain, grieving, lost in emotions that he could share with others if he didn’t learn to control them. Little wonder he’d fled seeking someone who had the ability to help him. “Oh, Tristan, that is a pain I know too well. I am so sorry. Stay here for a while, get your feet under you again. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like.”

  He pulled away from me, twisting, and I let him go. “I can’t, Da. I’d be no better than you. I left my son back in Chiarraíleigh.” The shocked silence that followed filled the air with a heavy feeling of anticipation. I felt as if lightning had struck me, torn between pained acknowledgement at the thought that I had run from him, and stunned disbelief that he now understood only because he was in the same place I’d been. And his body language told me that he was reacting the same way.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  I moved, reaching out and turning Tristan around by his shoulder and looking him in the eyes so very much like mine it nearly killed me to do it. “Then we go get him, Tristan. You and I, we go get him and we bring him home.” It all made sense now, the attitude when he’d arrived, his comments outside the diner. The ghosted shadows he’d hidden from me in the guise of understanding. It had all crystallized into a moment of emotion that finally revealed the truth, and this time I was man enough to break the chain.

  Tristan stood there in my grasp for a moment, eyes locked with mine, and then he looked away, down to the floor and to the side. “I’ll go. I know Chiarraíleigh isn’t your top tourist destination.” And if he was as much my son as he’d said he was, I had serious doubts that he’d come back. Or possibly even go back to Chiarraíleigh to begin with.

  “No, we’re going together. You’re my son, that’s my grandson, and it’s about damned time I did something right for a change. We’re going.” And that was final. I squeezed his shoulder and offered him a smile that I hoped was reassuring. He echoed it briefly, and then sighed. “Chin up, Tristan. You’re not alone. We’ll figure this out.” I’d go back to Chiarraíleigh and face whatever music was waiting for me there, but not for myself. I’d do it for Tristan and the grandson that I hoped to know.

  We didn’t leave immediately. That wouldn’t have been the right thing to do, all things considered. Instead, I called Suzu. Of course, the infernal creature had known; she confessed it had been nearly the sole topic of discussion after I’d left. When I told her that Tristan and I were going to Ireland, she asked me if that was wise. I told her that it was the right thing to do, and she accepted that answer. Moments of silence passed, and then I cleared my throat. “Thanks, Suzu.”

  “Hush, sweetheart. I didn’t do anything. Now you go to Ireland and do what needs to be done. I’ve said my piece on that a long time ago. You be safe and let me know what you choose to do.” She thought I was going to stay in Ireland and not come back. To be honest, it hadn’t even occurred to me.

  Instead of protesting, however, I smiled into the phone. “Yeah. I’ll let you know as soon as I do. Take care of things here; see if you can’t keep my brother from flying out to Ireland and making things more difficult than they will be, if you can. I’ll stay in touch.” And I rang off the line before I said too much. It really did feel as if we were saying goodbye.

  My next task was to send an email to the office. I notified Caroline that I was going to be out on a family matter and that I could be reached through email, as I was going to be off the cellular networks for a bit for telephone calls. I promised to check in from time to time, and knew she’d take care of things for me. The last task was a bit trickier.

  “Xelander, look, I’m… well, Tristan and I are going home for a bit. Yes, home. I’m going to set foot in Chiarraíleigh and hope that I don’t burst into flames. Not that it would hurt, mind, but…” I could tell he understood what I was saying. “So, give me a few days, maybe a week. I’ve told Suzu, and I’ve promised to keep in touch with her. But this is something that needs to be done.” And part of it was long overdue.

  “Are you certain, Teimhean? I can come with you if you’d like, help buffer Maggie’s anger.” My brother, the hero. Granted, I’d not call him that to his face, for he’d only deny it. He wasn’t the type to want accolades for what he did. Neither, for that matter, was I. The rare few times I managed to do some good, I preferred it to be left unacknowledged.

  My eyes settled on the pocketknife in the box and even though I was heading to certain turmoil, I felt my lips curl in a faint smile. “Yeah, I’m certain. There’s a lot going on suddenly, and I need to take care of a few things. Maggie will either forgive me or not… no matter what I do. If I need you, I’ll call you. Sound good?” I wasn’t truly giving him a choice in the matter, but I also knew he was perfectly capable of buying an airplane ticket and flying over. I just hoped he gave me some time before he did.

  “I’ll give you a week, Teimhean. And then, if I haven’t heard, I’ll be on the first flight to Belfast.” I knew he would, too. “Be careful and send my love to Auld Peg and Maggie. Oh, and if Maggie doesn’t believe you, tell her that the next time she breaks her hand punching someone’s nose, I won’t be there to set it.” That gave me ammunition against Maggie, not that I’d use it in a million years, and he knew it. It was probably why he’d said it. Then again, it could also have been a warning that she’d like to break my nose.

  I shook my head and pocketed the pocketknife as I spoke. “I’ll do that, and I’m duly warned. Then again, if she breaks my nose, I have the luxury of my magic to put it to rights again. That would serve her well, but I’ll do my best to duck.” He made an amused sound, and we rang off the phone.

  Tristan stood in the living room, looking to me with an anxious movement. “Are we going now? I mean, it’s late. Over there. If he’s managed to sleep, I don’t want to wake him.” That sounded like an excuse, and I shook my head at him. He knew what I was saying and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. We should go. And soon, before I change my mind again. Christ, Da… this is hard.”

  How well I knew that. “Yeah. It is. But we’ll do it, Tristan. You and me against the world. Or, two irritated women, one of which raised us both. Now, let’s get ourselves moving before we turn tail. I need to pack a few things, what about you?” I’d grab the bare minimum of clothing and take it with me, just in case I couldn’t get away to Coleraine immediately. I was planning to stay offsite in a hotel, though if Auld Peg insisted, I’d spend one night in Chiarraíleigh.

  Tristan followed me up the stairs, and at first, I didn’t hear his words. Then my brain filled me in on what I’d missed, and I caught up with his one-sided conversation about the local pub opening a bed and breakfast for visitors. “…so I’m fair certain there’s somewhere for you to stay if you’re wanting. The tourists speak highly of it.”

  I vaguely recalled signing off on property development, and wondering what tourists would think of a rustic bed and breakfast that had gas for lamps and no actual running water in the communal bathrooms, but a pump based sink and tub. It was to be showcased as a ‘full immersion experience of early Ireland’ but I hadn’t kept up on it to see if it had done well. Now, I supposed it had. “Well, we’ll see if there’s a room.”

  He watched me pack, and I realized that he must have left a good deal behind him when he’d come to see me with his single duffel and coat. My clothing in a bag and my technology in my pocket, I turned to look to Tristan and motioned to the door. “Shall we, then?” I’d take us on the Ninja over to the warehouse on Charlotte, send out a Gate request and wait for the connection. The smaller motorcycle could either go with us or stay in the shadowy interior of the warehouse.

  Tristan looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “How do you think we’re getting there, Da? I don’t think we can simply head out to the airport and catch a flight, unless you’ve got a charter company waiting at beck and call. You’ve forgotten one important thing: I’m half elf.” And that meant he could open a Gate of his own and simply will us across to Chiarraíleigh. He lifted his hand, made a strange little motion, and a silver shimmer formed in the air. “I’ll put us outside the castle, so you’re not dropped into the middle of the village.”

  I nodded, looking at the Gate, feeling the resonation of his Air magic with my own. It would make travel a bit easier on my senses than it had with the Earth Gate. I moved towards it, and like any stereotypical cliché, my phone rang. I fished it out, looked at it, and winced. Ravenswing. I had to take the call. “Shestin, go.”

  “If you killed Rathbourne, as you claimed, how is it that my daughter has been taken?” The world fell out from under me at his words, and I staggered backwards to my bed, sitting hard on the corner. “She must be found at all costs, Teimhean. I want all your resources on this, and you’re on leave until she is found.”

  I heard him ring off and I lifted my eyes to my son. As much as it hurt my heart to say the words, I couldn’t go with him. “Tristan, I’m on assignment. Vanessa’s been kidnapped.”