The stage was dark.
Fiachra was gone.
She finished, and Eóghan grabbed her plate without a word. Liah tried to thank him but he seemed agitated.
Jarring notes from a music box flowed in eerily from another room. Captivated, she stood up. The music lured her like the snake from a basket when the pipe is played.
Eóghan let out an exasperated sigh. He threw his rag into the sink before he stepped in behind her.
The notes pinged ominously loud in the candlelit room. Old, worn green wallpaper that looked as if it was hand-painted by a steady, artistic hand covered the walls. Small, colorful flowers were equally spaced throughout each panel; creamy vines of leaves anchored old frame portraits of persons dearly departed with their cold lingering stares of layered paint.
The music quieted when Liah shuffled into the center of the room, which was empty except for a parlor table, chairs, a heavily leaded window, and an ethereal woman dressed in gray who sat in a fancy antique chair, staring out of a small section of stained glass. She held a small rectangular wooden box, idly running her first two fingers over the side where it was well-worn from the touch. Liah imagined the woman sitting for countless hours, staring out the window and using the wood like a worry stone.
A scene painted on top of the box showed a clearing surrounded with woods, and a small lake that was inlaid with mother of pearl ornamentation. Small flower decals that matched the wallpaper perfectly bordered the lid.
Liah gasped and twisted in shock as the door slammed shut behind her. Eóghan stood firmly in front of the door with his arms crossed over his chest. She made a move to leave, but Eóghan redirected her attention back to the lady in gray.
"Come closer." The old woman raised a hand and curled her bony fingers in a come-hither motion. The music crept ominously through the room again. Though Liah wanted to flee, she moved slowly, obligingly.
“Sit,” the woman commanded.
A chair moved of its own accord and hit Liah just behind her knees so that she fell right into it. It then hovered toward the old woman until it stopped just across from her.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she cackled.
Her tongue clucked as milky eyes stared at Liah, and all amusement washed away from the old woman’s penetrating gaze. Liah swore she could see pictures of people and events flickering in her eyes like an old Fantascope, but she couldn’t make out anything clearly. The old woman held out her hand and Liah begrudgingly placed hers in it. The woman's other hand darted over top. Her fingers looked fragile enough to break as they danced over Liah’s palm.
"I knew it was you the first time I saw you. Spitting mad at the world, you were! Screeching up a storm to let the Heavens know your displeasure at being brought here again.” She chuckled, eyes closed.
“You’ve met me before?” Liah eyed the door again, but the woman clutched her hand tighter.
“Aye. I am Líadan. I was there when your mother brought you into the light.”
“You mean when I was born?”
The old woman frowned. “There has been a lot hidden from you, it seems. Where is your mother, child?” The old woman’s eyes opened wide as her mouth pinched shut in distaste, as if she already knew the answer. Her hand moved back over the tips of Liah’s fingers as if she were reading more answers there.
Liah shrugged, solemn. “I haven’t seen my mother in years.”
“Oh, Castaliah.” Líadan frowned in sympathy; her light eyes brimmed with tears before she moved her fingers to Liah’s wrists, as if measuring her heartbeat.
Hearing her birth name was like a jolt of lightning hitting Liah right in the stomach and knocking her out of her chair, as if Zeus had done it himself. But she remained sitting like nothing had happened.
“You know where my mother is?” Liah wrung her hands, worried about the answer. She wanted to ask about both her mother and her father since she was equally curious about both.
Líadan nodded and started to rub the wooden box as if she was trying to soothe herself, but she said nothing more about Astra. “Perhaps we should hurry so you don’t meet the same fate as your precious mum.”
“Lurking in the doorway, Eóghan?” Líadan smiled softly, even though her eyes stayed fixed on Liah’s. “I see you’ve met.”
Liah’s attention darted to Eóghan. She’d forgotten he was there.
His hands were balled in fists under his crossed arms. Liah watched him flex as he scowled at Líadan before he turned his attention to Liah. “My grandmother is a seer—among other things … She also has a vivid imagination and enjoys imposing her will on others.”
“There is nothing imaginary.” Líadan laughed. “One must choose to believe in magic and one’s own gifts before they are given away …”
Eóghan smirked, rocking on his heels. “Touché.”
“The crow seeks shiny objects, does it not?” Líadan grinned at him, making her wrinkled face look more like the bark of a tree, indented with deep lines.
“What?” Liah was suddenly confused.
“Know that he’s obsessed and has already given chase.”
“Fiachra?” Eóghan bit out and Líadan nodded once before her eyes darted to the bandages on Liah’s head. Liah’s free hand instantly went to the wound, to feel the tender spot.
“You know who hit me?”
“I know who saved you. Me,” Eóghan countered.
Before Liah could react, Líadan clutched her wrist. She traced burning symbols into Liah’s hand. Liah tried to move away, but she was impossibly strong.
“You went through the Faeryn gate!” Líadan’s eyes widened. “The fated strings have been spun, the swan’s song has been sung, all has begun!”
Líadan dropped Liah’s hand and sat back in her chair, whispering, “The fated strings have been spun, the swan’s song has been sung, all has begun …”
~~ * * * ~~
It was late when Eóghan showed Liah back to her room. “You will be safe here—as long as you stay in here,” Eóghan said hastily before wishing her goodnight. He shut and locked the door, tossing the extra key underneath the door to Liah. It was a small gesture, but it eased his nerves. He sat next to the door, knowing it would be a long night. She was worth it.
Liah didn’t seem to be enchanted, like Líadan had said, but he had to trust his grandmother. All he knew was that Liah had enchanted him.
It had pleased him when he caught her watching him, though it infuriated him when she watched Fiachra just the same.
If she only knew.
“So, creepy stalker, what happened?” Brenna asked as she moved next to Eóghan, nudging him. “What crazy things did Granny say?”
“What if she didn’t tell me anything?”
“You make it your job to know everything at all times about everyone,” she droned, rolling her eyes.
“You let Fiachra inside again,” he accused her angrily.
“Nope.” Brenna perked up with a devilish grin. “Grandma just swung the door to stop Liah’s running around like a rat in a maze.”
That rocked him. He turned to Brenna questioningly.
“She said Liah will have to choose, and so far, you haven’t made the best impressions!” Brenna mimicked Eóghan’s stiff stance and glaring brogue with humor.
“It’s hard to explain.” Eóghan let out an exasperated sigh. Closing his eyes, he let his head hit the wall.
“Tell me,” Brenna whined.
“Shall I tell you how Líadan told me?”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.” He nodded.
“Go for it.” She grinned.
Eóghan took a deep breath before reciting:
“Flight of the fairy on the bray,
Pray tell the future of thy day,
Seen a man, is he friend or nay?
Naïve of passion or peril, the dancers sway,
With a flick of a coin and yearning prey,
Thrown o’er wood, a dowry lay,
As cries
of the swan song foray,
Spirits circle, come what may,
Oh, the Fates have come to play.”
“Well. She never does things easily,” Brenna scoffed.
“I have the coin.” Eóghan sighed.
“What coin?”
“Flick of the coin—I was the crow that day. I was following Fiachra as I always do. He was … chasing prey—” He pointed toward the door. “He knows she’s special.”
“Shapeshifted?” Brenna asked and Eóghan nodded.
“A crow. I found her, and I swooped in to help. He left without much of a hunt, luckily.”
Brenna closed her eyes tightly. “And the box?”
“I don’t know.” Eóghan folded his arms in front of him. “I’d like to think it’s the dowry, but I know better. It played creepy music.”
“Líadan’s a wicked witch,” Brenna agreed with a laugh. “A beautiful, magical, wickedly amazing witchy witch.”
“With a creepy box.”
~~ * * * ~~
Eóghan didn’t have the heart to tell Liah that Fiachra had charmed her into believing her trip was cursed. It had just been an illusion set by Fiachra to get her alone and out of the bar, to where Eóghan couldn’t watch over her.
Fiachra enjoyed the chase, but there would be no chase if she didn’t leave the bar.
He longed to go to her, to hold her, but after that night with Líadan, Liah spent the next few days in her room upstairs, ignoring Fiachra’s alluring music that played in the bar. Eóghan could see the frustration on Fiachra’s face when he sang, expecting Liah to come to him. Brenna mentioned to Eóghan that Fiachra’s voice grated at Liah’s nerves. Instead, she popped in headphones to drown out the sound, and took her meals in her room. Even though it took everything in him to not go to her; he gave her space.
Liah surprised both Eóghan and Brenna when she finally came down stairs a week later, when the bar was the most crowded. She avoided Eóghan completely and sat at the same table he’d put her at that first night.
Liah watched Fiachra sing his heart out, which made Eóghan irrationally angry. It sounded like screeching to him, but many of the female patrons seemed mesmerized with his siren song, including Liah.
“Go to her.” Brenna nudged her brother. “I know you want to, and she is waiting for you. I can tell. I’ll handle all this.”
He looked apprehensive.
Brenna laughed. “It is time.”
Eóghan moved to where Liah was sitting and swooped in next to her. “Hi,” he said in her ear. She startled, breaking her stare at Fiachra. He apologized with a disarming grin. “Have you seen the city?”
Liah scoffed.
“Would you like to go for a walk with me and see it?” He kept his eyes on hers, knowing she was apprehensive, but he also didn’t want her to look over at Fiachra. Eóghan didn’t want her to listen to his cawing voice, either.
Women often went missing when they fell for Fiachra’s charms.
There was nothing Eóghan could do about it.
“Sure,” Liah said finally, with a slightly nervous grin.
Her scent was flowery—wildflowers in the spring. He wanted an even closer smell, but he didn’t want to be weird.
Taking her by her hand, he pulled her out of the bar, then toward the fire escape stairs where he helped her up.
“This wasn’t the way I expected to see the city,” she huffed. They could still hear the music playing below them.
“It is the best way to see it, though. You can see for miles up here on the roof.” He grinned, showing her that he could be charming. She finally relented with a small smile. “Remember when Líadan took your hand?”
“Yes.”
“She activated the gifts you were given before you were even born—gifts that should have been cultivated and practiced.” He gently touched that part on her hand and felt her slight shiver. “So when a man like Fiachra comes along, you will see him for what he is and not his allure.”
“Do you have enchantments that I might see?”
Eóghan was taken aback by her question for a moment.
“You’re blushing. I didn’t think it was possible.”
“I am a shapeshifter, like Fiachra.” Liah gasped in shock, but Eóghan continued. “I’d like to think I use my charms for good.”
He winked.
“And me?”
“Easiest explanation would be that you’re a nymph … A witch, basically, by today’s standards. But you’re much more than we can imagine.”
“And your tattoos?”
“Aye, you want to see them?” She nodded. Eóghan took off his form-fitting black shirt. “Wings.” He flexed a little, showing off the tattoos.
“So, you’re a shapeshifter … Can you fly?”
“Aye. I was with you the day in the forest when you were hiding from Fiachra. I was the crow.”
“He was the other bird? The one circling?”
“He was hunting for you.” Eóghan reached into his pocket, pulled out the coin, and handed it back to Liah. She gasped, wide-eyed, as she looked at it. It was one of her favorite souvenir coins—a warped penny she had pressed of Peter Pan when she was little and went to Disneyland.
“It says ‘Pan,’ with a distorted image of him,” Liah explained.
“Not distorted, lass.” Eóghan laughed out loud. “Pan wasn’t known for his beauty. Fitting you’d get a charm from Pan himself, being a nymph and all.”
Liah looked closer. It truly looked like the mythological Pan and not the cartoon.
Eóghan said more softly, “That is why you needed to make your choice.”
“My choice in what, exactly?”
“Your partner.” He swallowed. “Your mate.”
“Oh.” Liah looked at him with wide eyes.
“I’m just kidding. You already made your choice, as did I.”
“Did I?”
Eóghan took the coin out of her hand and flipped it in the air. When it landed, it was a coppery ring with only the name, ‘Pan,’ remaining. “It wouldn’t have changed if you hadn’t.” he said quietly. “You can try it with Fiachra, if you so choose, though I doubt he’d be up here trying to woo you.”
“Is that what you’re doing?”
He moved in closer as his fingertips grazed her chin, opening her mouth to him. But his mouth hovered just over hers when he said, “That’s what I’ve been trying to do since you got here.” Eóghan laughed, shaking his head and looking down at her. “Perhaps you’re immune.”
“Perhaps not?” Liah countered. Her eyes moved to his lips and then back to his eyes.
“Yeah, lass?” He grinned widely.
Liah nodded.
He placed the ring in the palm of her hand.
The sound of Fiachra’s singing suddenly stopped.
Eóghan’s jaw tightened as he watched the door. “Time to go.”
~~ * * * ~~
He took Liah by the hand and pulled her to his chest. Black wings splayed in the night air as his arms wrapped around her. She didn’t want to open her eyes, but when she did, she could see they were soaring gracefully through the forest. He wasn’t a crow—more like a man with wings. All his peeking tattoos were gone.
She couldn’t tell how much time had passed or where they were when they lit upon a slip of land bordered by cliffs, tall trees, and a small stream.
“I live here.”
“Not at the bar?”
He shrugged coyly. “Sometimes at the bar, but only to guard you.”
She watched in amazement as his wings fused back to his body, becoming the intricate full-body tattoo.
“You slept outside my room?”
“Every night.”
“That’s not creepy at all.” She laughed but then quieted when the enormity of the situation overcame her. “I don’t know what to say but thank you.”
Eóghan nodded before he reached into what looked like a simple grouping of trees. Liah was surprised when the trees suddenly revealed a tw
o-story log cabin.
He opened the door and ushered her in. They lingered just inside; she longed to touch him. He closed his eyes, and Liah placed her palm over his heart, feeling it quicken.
Each touch had an underlining power—their statically charged energy coursed between them, like touching Zeus’ lightning bolt, but neither pulled away. They relished in the energy that coursed between them.
“I waited so long for you,” Eóghan whispered as he pulled her palm from his heart and kissed it. She smiled.
“So, are you sure you’re not a swan with those wings?”
“What?”
Liah bit her lip and continued. “The stained glass, the eerie, prophetic poems, and the warnings of swans trying to kill women … Then there’s Fiachra and his weird music. He was a swan flying overhead that day, wasn’t he? The day you were in the tree.”
“That, he was,” Eóghan said quietly.
She nodded in understanding.
“Besides, if I was a swan, I’d have a lake, not a stream.” He snickered, trying to break the tension. “I can turn into a crow or a wolf, usually. They go together, as it was.”
“And Brenna?”
“Don’t tell her I told you, but a raven or cat.”
“And the gray lady?”
“She is like you.”
“Oh,” Liah frowned. “And in the box?”
“A music box, I hope!” Eóghan’s amusement didn’t reach his eyes.
He didn’t want to waste any more time with questions, especially not about that box.
He kissed her hand more intently, tongue tipping out to taste while his eyes stayed on hers. The whole energy within the room changed. His eyes became darker, beseeching. She gave him a soft smile and kissed his warm lips. Eóghan touched her cheek with one hand, then wrapped the other arm around her waist. They wore entirely too much clothing; he was thrilled when Liah began to take each piece off slowly, teasingly. With heavy-lidded eyes he watched, not wanting to look away from something he had long waited to see.
Moonlight, Monsters & Magic Page 8
