A Hollow in the Hills by Ruth Frances Long Read Free Book Online

Bolg. They target girls for preference, the younger the better. They feed on terror. You can see the result.’
    He’d often wondered about the banshee. Bean Sídhe in the old language. It meant ‘woman of the Sídhe’. Always women. Their voices could kill. Hell, everything about them could kill but it was the voices they were known for, their weapon of choice. One of them had killed Dylan’s sister – just to get at Izzy, or because Izzy wasn’t there – out of pure spite. Holly had always kept a few on as assassins, but mostly the rest of the Sídhe avoided them. He had always wondered, if they were the women, where were their men? He had only asked once, when he was very young, and Holly had ordered them all to beat him, all the banshee in her service. They’d done a thorough job. They’d enjoyed it. But he had never found out. Now perhaps he had an answer. Albeit a cryptic one.
    â€˜Jay sings in town,’ Amadán went on. ‘In the pubs, on street corners, for her own amusement as much as anything. A busker half the time, a travelling performer. Distinctive looks, colouring … the tourists think it’s face-paint and hair dye.They can’t get enough of her. Her voice would put angels to shame, I swear it. She’s much sought after. She was … We found her this morning, out by the docks. Right out of town as we know it. Further than she’d willingly go. She was beautiful, Jinx by Jasper. I am not amused.’
    Who would be? But again, Jinx’s mind supplied some answers. Holly for one. Why couldn’t he get his mind off his sadistic former mistress? She haunted him, lingering on the edges of his nightmare. Yes, Holly would have been highly amused. And maybe, if Jay hadn’t worked for him, Amadán would have been as well. What did he use this room for? There was a smell of blood to it that was ancient and deeply ingrained. Not just Jay’s blood. So much more than that, so much older.
    Jinx’s mind lurched away from that prospect and back to the question at hand.
    â€˜Firshee. I’ve never heard of them.’
    â€˜Haven’t you? Think back to your earliest childhood. When Brí’s people had you rather than Holly. Holly knew all this but she didn’t allow talk of it. No time for old lore. She wanted to think ahead, or so she said. Although I suspect she didn’t want anyone else knowing the things she knew. But that’s beside the point. Think back to the nursery rhymes and ghost stories your pack told. I know they do. Cú Sídhe love their bogeymen and their songs. They love howling away together.’
    Nursery rhymes. Every race had them, songs and ditties which carried warnings and made sure every child knew thereal dangers from the moment they could sing. Warnings of monsters in the dark, hiding in the shadows beneath the bed or behind the door, bogeymen … Fir bolg.
    â€˜Fir’ meant ‘men’, but it sounded like the English word ‘fear’ and given what they did, given that they could drive their victims insane with terror, it had stuck and become their name for good. The Sídhe loved to play with words, break them, abuse them, put them to other uses. They liked to do that with many things.
    â€˜Bolg’ meant ‘bag’ because of the lives they stole away, as if they packed them into bags and carried them off. ‘Bolg’ meant ‘belly’ because of their ferocious appetites. He wasn’t sure which meaning applied here. Maybe both. Something about the shadows in a nursery …
    The rhyme came to him, echoing through his head like a mocking echo.
    Whenever the fog is dense and thick
    When the whispers are all you hear
    They’ll feed on your terror, freeze all your hope
    Try to outrun —
    â€˜The Fear,’ Jinx whispered. He sucked in a breath and looked at the Old Man, no longer doubting. And yet still needing to ask questions.