‘Most of the coven will be here tonight. I know you told Ruby, but are you going to mention your adventures in Falias to them, or…?’
Am I going to tell the coven about Lyr and Falias? Or keep it a secret? Faye finished Gabriel’s question in her mind. So much of her life was secret. Was that a good thing? Sometimes she felt choked with secrets.
‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep it between us. For now, at least. It’s personal.’ She frowned, wondering if she should tell the rest of the coven. But she wasn’t a real member and, she rationalised, she didn’t owe them anything.
‘Of course.’ Gabriel nodded, and there was a not-uncomfortable silence between them until a moment later when Annie got out of a taxi with Susie, yelling at Faye from across the street. ‘Your friends, I assume?’ He tipped his hat to them as they crossed the street.
‘That’s them.’ Faye felt a rush of happiness as Annie, dressed in a skintight black PVC catsuit and black biker boots, danced over to them and planted a kiss on Faye’s cheek. Even though she had to keep her hair long and blonde for Coven of Love, she’d curled up the ends into a sixties style.
‘Howaya, sweetheart?’ Annie took a double take at Gabriel. ‘Who’s this, aye? I didnae tell ye I was goin’ to be Emma Peel tonight, but look, ye’ve found ma John Steed for me.’
‘Annie, this is Gabriel Black. Gabriel, this is my best friend Annie and her girlfriend, Susie.’
‘Delighted to find a fellow fan of vintage British espionage.’ Gabriel shook Annie’s hand, laughing. ‘And I assure you, it’s a happy accident. I’m afraid I usually look this way, though the bowler isn’t an everyday thing.’
‘Charmed. Hi, Faye.’ Susie kissed Faye on her other cheek; Faye suspected that she now had red lipstick on one side of her mouth and pink on the other. Annie’s girlfriend was dressed in trousers, a gold waistcoat under a nicely cut jacket and her hair was arranged in a sleek blonde bob.
‘She’s Emma Peel, I’m Pussy Galore,’ Susie explained. ‘Formidable women of British cinema.’
‘Right,’ Faye laughed. ‘Bewitching, both of you.’
It was good to be completely herself with the people she liked and trusted most. If Rav was here, would it be the same? she wondered, and suspected that it wouldn’t.
Twenty-Seven
Inside the club, it was busy. Annie and Susie immediately lost themselves on the dancefloor and Faye followed Gabriel to the bar. The floor was sticky and the music was excessively loud, but Faye felt at home immediately, though she wasn’t much of a club person. There was something to be said for being among her own kind.
Onstage, a rock band were playing; Faye had no idea who they were, but she danced a little on the spot, listening to them. Gabriel handed her a bottle of beer and she tapped the top of hers against his.
‘Cheers!’ he shouted. ‘You look beautiful this evening.’ Faye felt her cheeks flush, and looked away. ‘But you always do,’ he shouted again, smiling. Faye didn’t know what to say.
‘Thank you,’ she shouted back, awkwardly. She would never usually wear a dress this short, but when she’d looked at her wardrobe, it was the only thing that seemed appropriate. Ruby had invited her by text; when Faye texted back to ask what kind of event it was, Ruby had sent a smiley face and written drinks, dancing, costumes – anything goes.
She didn’t have a costume, and she would never have worn one; fancy dress was for the adventurous. But when she’d zipped up the short dress – one she’d bought on a whim when shopping in the West End – she’d felt sexy, so she’d worn it. It had a scoop neck and long sleeves, and she’d left her legs bare. Surprisingly, they were more tanned from the hot summer than she’d have expected, but she and Rav had spent a lot of time walking around London’s parks – eating ice-creams, talking, or reclining by the ponds and rivers that ran through the city’s green spaces, lazily reading the papers or just lying in each other’s arms.
‘Hey! This party is awesome!’ Annie and Susie reappeared and Gabriel handed them both a beer each. Annie grinned and took a long drink. ‘Faye. I love this guy.’
Faye smiled, and tipped her beer bottle into her mouth. Gabriel took her hand.
‘Dance?’ he asked, and she nodded, leaving her drink on a nearby table and following him to the dancefloor.
Gabriel was a good dancer. Faye felt herself relax in the sea of bodies, all of whom were enjoying themselves, and none of them watching her. She felt the music take her over, and she moved to it, within it, enjoying the waves of music that took her from elation to energy and a sense of togetherness with the crowd. Gabriel took her hand and twirled her around. She laughed, and twirled him back. It was good to feel this carefree: she’d never usually allow herself to be so... she searched for the word. Liberated.
As they danced, she wondered momentarily if Gabriel had feelings for her, but she hoped that he didn’t: she valued him as a friend, and she had precious few friends, especially ones that understood about magic. There was a part of her that wanted to ask him. Then, if he’d confessed that, yes, he felt something more than friendship, she’d have the opportunity to explain how, to her, it was so much more important to have him as a steady light in her life.
But it wasn’t the moment, not now.
She felt free, dancing with Gabriel and with Annie and Susie there. Yet she’d been enchanted by dance before now: in Murias, in Finn Beatha’s kingdom, he’d danced with her in the faerie ball, and she’d lost herself in it. Had taken pleasure in losing herself to everything but him and the powerful desire that beat between them.
It was still in her: the unsatisfied craving for Finn. Even though she knew it was wrong; that she’d been enchanted and unable to see the truth of what lay under her feet as she danced. And though she knew the darkness at Finn’s core, she still wanted him.
Outside the club she’d observed the amazing variety of costumes of the attendees, but as she looked at Gabriel, Faye realised that some of the bodies she saw in the corner of her gaze, dancing, jostling and kissing, were different to the rest of the coven members there. It wasn’t that their costumes or dress was strange, but the bodies themselves were less… real. She frowned and focused her gaze on them. Surely it was a trick of the dim light?
Yet, there was a translucence to some of the figures that danced and jumped, tapped and twirled. And it was a look that she recognised.
She shouted in Gabriel’s ear.
‘There are faerie folk here. Elementals. They’re not human!’ she yelled, hoping to be heard over the band, but Gabriel winced, shook his head and pointed at his ear. ‘Elemental beings. They’re here, dancing in the crowd!’ she repeated, and watched as understanding filtered across his expression.
‘Are you sure?’ he mouthed at her, and she nodded impatiently.
They stopped dancing, suddenly still in the sea of movement around them. Faye pointed into the crowd.
‘Look. There! And there!’ She pointed at the vague, hazy figures that glittered at the edge of perception. Perhaps, because she was so accustomed to being in the faerie worlds now, she could see them more easily. Or perhaps it was her half-fae nature. But as soon as she pointed at them, they disappeared and Gabriel shook his head. He couldn’t see any of them.
Faye heard laughing behind her and spun around, but there was no-one behind her except dancers, headbanging intently and definitely not laughing.
‘Did you hear that?’ she shouted, but Gabriel shook his head again and looked at her doubtfully.
‘Faye, maybe we should get some air,’ he shouted, and took her elbow, aiming to steer her off the dancefloor, but she pulled away.
‘I saw them! I’m not going mad!’ she shouted back as the song slowed.
The opening bars of the next song started; a ballad that held the crowd in a sweet lull of expectation.
She felt a strong hand in the small of her back and looked around, confused. Who else but Gabriel was trying to get her attention?
But it was Finn Beatha
who leaned in and kissed her cheek, smiling that pouty-lipped smile that she could never resist.
Twenty-Eight
‘No!’ Faye screamed, and stepped away from the faerie king in shock. She’d seen him in her dreams, but she hadn’t expected to ever see Finn Beatha in person, in the ordinary world, ever again. Her heartbeat accelerated until it seemed to thrum in her chest with the frantic rhythm of a bird’s. She realised that she was sweating; her forehead, her chest, behind her knees.
His physical presence was overwhelming. He was tall and rangy, muscular without being bulky; he was fair, though his hair was a dirty blonde when he appeared in the ordinary world, she noticed, and more golden when he was in his own realm. Tonight, when of all nights he could have worn his faerie robes without attracting any more notice than a very attractive man might, he wore a black tuxedo with a sharp white shirt underneath, like Gabriel’s. Yet, while Gabriel managed to look like a reasonably attractive civil servant in his smart clothes, Finn Beatha had the effortless and otherworldly beauty of a film star. His longish dark-blonde hair was tied up, Faye noticed, in the kind of bun that hipster boys in London favoured, and he was clean shaven.
Finn was always overwhelming to Faye because of his sheer beauty, but also because of the bond they had. It began, as always, when her eyes met his dark blue gaze: she felt the energy of their connection overcome her immediately, as if they were the only two people in the room. Finn’s gaze never left hers, and everything else – the club, the dancers, the band – melted away. In fact, as she fought to break their eye contact, she looked around her and noticed that they stood still in the club, but apart from it. They stood as if beyond a hazy sepia screen. Everything moved around them, but slowly, as if on pause, and only she and Finn were real and in colour. Everything else was the colour of a vintage photograph; momentarily unreal, already a memory, already a dream.
‘What have you done?’ she demanded, although she knew; Finn could move between Murias and the ordinary world as he chose to, and he could manipulate time in the human world. She remembered that it was Samhain, the night when the veil between the worlds was thinnest. Tonight it was easier than ever for him to cross over. And, she supposed, it was the same for the other fae creatures she’d glimpsed.
‘I wanted to dance with my sidhe-leth. Surely that is no crime.’ He smiled and kissed her cheek again. Despite herself, she felt the heat in his lips and yearned for more; she fought the rising tide of desire he always prompted in her. ‘For old times’ sake,’ he added, a twinkle in his eye.
‘You told me I would never see you again,’ she challenged him.
‘I was angry.’ He batted his eyelids at Faye, playful now. ‘But I cannot stay angry for long. It’s boring,’ he sighed and placed both his long-fingered hands on her waist, one on each side. ‘This dress is very appealing, I must say, Faye. You look as wicked as I remember you in Murias.’ He brushed aside her hair and stroked her neck softly, and Faye felt herself melt under his touch. No, no! she tried to tell herself not to give in to the pleasure that blanketed them both in its soft spell.
‘So… you just thought you could… reclaim me? Just like that?’ Faye mustered her self-control and removed his hands from her waist.
‘Haven’t I?’ he murmured against her ear, taking her hand and placing it on his heart. ‘You feel it, Faye, as I do. I love you. I miss you. In my heart. Not just my bed.’
She felt the tears well in her eyes as he said it, and wiped them away furiously.
‘You don’t love me,’ she shot back. ‘You don’t love anyone or anything. Your heart is as cold as the ocean, Finn Beatha. And I won’t be your lover.’
‘I know you love me, Faye. And I know you will come to me again before too long,’ he said, drawing her to him. He kissed her, then, deeply, and she lost all ability to rail against him. It was a kind of return to her deepest self when she was in his kiss; as if he was a river she had forgotten she belonged to, a part of the tide that rushed against the stone bank. Desire for him erupted in her, and she felt herself grow wet with desire for him and everything she knew he could give her.
‘See, you would have me now,’ he whispered, and Faye knew that she’d be lost unless she acted fast. Reaching into the cross-body bag she was wearing, her fingers found the obsidian crystal Lyr had given her: she’d kept it with her ever since. As she grasped it, she felt the crystal’s dual earth-and-fire energy fight the power of Finn’s element of water, and she found that she could break away from him.
‘I would not,’ she replied, and held the crystal up to him. He frowned at it and stepped away from her.
‘I see that you have met your father,’ he said, dryly. ‘Do not think just because he has given you a trinket that you can forget the bond that exists between us, sidhe-leth. You are mine, and you will come back to me. I have foreseen it,’ he said, taking a step backward, and then another. ‘Tell your father that I look forward to seeing him and his ill-begotten son Luathas on the battlefield.’ He smiled and now Faye could see the sulk on his lips, like a child that has been refused its favourite treat.
‘Tell him yourself,’ she retorted, and held the crystal up in the room. Black, green and gold light emanated from it like a lamp, dispelling the sepia light in the club, banishing it like mist.
‘So be it.’ Finn held up his hand in a sign of surrender. ‘But I tell you, I have foreseen it. We will be lovers again, Faye. Don’t deny your own desire.’
Faye held the crystal higher and kicked off her high heels, standing firmly on the sticky floor of the club in her bare feet. She summoned up tendrils of flickering emerald, black and gold earth energy from the ground and breathed it up into her body.
‘Be gone! I banish you, back to your kingdom!’ she shouted. Colour and animation started to bleed back into the hazy sepia effect around her; life began to return to the ball.
Finn melted away, out of the crowd, along with the flickering figures of the other visiting fae.
I know you. I know you will come to me. His voice was in her mind, and she shook her head, as if she could get rid of his influence like shaking water from her ear after swimming.
‘No.’ She said it out loud, firmly. She could resist Finn; she wasn’t the bewildered girl he could bewitch whenever he wanted, any more.
‘What just happened?’ Gabriel was standing next to her, blinking, and she replaced the crystal in her bag.
‘Maybe we do need to get some air,’ she said, and grabbed for his arm before her legs gave out from under her.
Twenty-Nine
Faye had already drunk half her coffee by the time Mallory walked into the coffee shop, shaking the rain from a plain black umbrella. She wore a long black and grey houndstooth check coat that reminded Faye of a cape, and tall black boots underneath. She was as slight as Faye remembered, yet she made her way imperiously through the café.
‘Hi.’ Faye smiled openly, feeling that her own outfit of blue jeans and a cream knitted jumper was somehow less cool, less elegant, less London than Mallory’s seemingly effortless style. Today Faye had plaited her long, auburn hair, which hung over one shoulder; she wished she’d perhaps curled it and left it long, and worn something less homely. Mallory’s hair was as luxuriously long and blonde as she remembered, and when she took off the long coat, she was wearing a plain, fitted black t-shirt and tight black jeans that showed off her petite figure.
‘Ugh, terrible weather out there.’ Mallory threw her coat onto the leather booth seat facing Faye; she didn’t apologise for being late and called her coffee order across at a waitress. ‘Flat white. Extra shot.’
‘I don’t mind it. Reminds me of home, a little,’ Faye smiled, aware that she was being artificially jolly. It was a lie; London didn’t remind of her of Abercolme at all, but she was making conversation, smoothing out the jagged peaks of Mallory. Annie, with her actressy dislike of social faux pas and bad manners, would have said something like ‘Get it up ye, bessie, at least say hullo’. Faye wished Annie wa
s with her; she also knew that Mallory most likely wouldn’t know that bessie was an insult. She tried again. ‘Thanks for your card. And the flowers. That was kind.’
‘S’ok. I work next to a florist, so it’s no hassle. They give me a massive discount, I’m in there so much.’
‘Ah.’ The waitress brought Mallory’s drink and asked Faye if she wanted another; she shook her head hurriedly. If this was how it was going to go, she didn’t want to be stuck here with Mallory.
‘So. Tell me about the coven.’ Mallory leaned back against the blue leather booth and sipped her coffee, watching Faye intently. ‘When I saw you at Rav’s, that’s where you’d been, right?’
‘The coven?’ Faye hadn’t expected Mallory to ask her about that; when they’d met, at the bar, she’d been distinctly uninterested in talking about tarot. Except, Faye remembered, that Mallory had said she was familiar with it; it was just her tone and manner that implied she wasn’t interested in talking about it with Faye. She’d forgotten that.
‘Rav said it’s a London-based group. I’m quite keen to find one, so I wanted to know what you thought.’
‘What I thought?’ Faye knew she was repeating Mallory’s words like a simpleton, but she was having trouble getting to grips with the surprising turn the conversation had taken.
‘Yeah. You know. What are they like? What did you do? I mean, I don’t want to join just any group.’
Faye took a drink of her coffee to disguise the laugh that had jumped to her throat, and coughed instead. Mallory obviously thought that joining a coven was like choosing a bikini waxer.
‘Well, they do run open rituals at the seasonal festivals, but you have to be a friend of someone to go. You can’t just say you want to join and they’ll have you.’ Faye remembered Sylvia going out of her way to make it clear that she was welcome at Mabon, as long as she knew her place. If they’ve got any sense, they wouldn’t take you in a blue moon, anyway Faye thought to herself. ‘Why do you want to join a coven?’
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