The Dagda's Cauldron (The Faeling Sisters Book 1)

by M. C. Cairns

  The Dagda’s Cauldron

  The Faeling Sisters

  Book I

  M.C. Cairns

  Copyright © 2017 Cairns Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  To Bayleigh and Annie

  Finding your passion means remembering you can do anything you set your mind to.

  PART ONE

  BRIANNE

  1

  The Lie

  S

  NEAKING OUT WAS A LOT EASIER than Brianne expected. Easy to do, but not so easy on her conscience. She didn’t want to lie to her mom, but when she asked for permission to go to the Eluding Destiny concert, her mother completely shut her down. She wouldn't listen to Brianne when she tried to explain how important it was for her to go because 'staying out late on a school night was against the rules.' She didn't want to hear about the plans Olivia and Brianne made before they couldn't make any more plans. If Livvie were still alive, their mom would have let them go. But she wasn't, and that left Brianne with only one option — sneaking out.

  Brianne knew her mother wouldn't question her going to bed early because she needed to be at school early the next morning. Knowing her mother trusted her came with a twinge of guilt, but she quickly pushed it aside.

  "Don't forget to take an extra set of clothes with you tomorrow. It's your dad's weekend," her mother reminded her when Brianne was leaving the TV room.

  "I won't, mom," Brianne promised as she headed toward the stairs. Feeling that twinge of guilt return, she paused halfway up the stairs and called out, "I love you, mom. Good night."

  "I love you, too, Bree," her mother called back.

  Taking the rest of the stairs two at a time, she hurried to her room, threw on her pajamas, and jumped into bed, covering herself up to her chin with the threadbare blanket that had belonged to Livvie. Brianne knew her mom tiptoed in when she thought she was asleep and kissed her on the head. She had done it every night since Livvie had died. Well, almost every night. There’d been a few nights after dad left that she hadn't even left her room. Hoping her mom wouldn't take forever, Brianne put her earbuds in, turned on her music, and tried to relax.

  Half an hour later, her mother tiptoed back out of her room and Brianne listened to her footsteps fade down the hallway. She stared at her clock, willing the minutes to change faster. It took hours for those thirty minutes to pass, but she had to give her mom time to fall asleep. When the last minute flashed, she jumped out of bed, grabbed her flannel shirt and favorite ripped-up black jeans from under her pillow and changed clothes in record time. She found her gray, worn-down Converse, slipped them on without having to untie them, and gathered her thick black hair into a ponytail. Glancing in the mirror, she added a touch of blush to her pale ivory cheeks and grabbed the concert tickets from their hiding spot in her makeup drawer. Cracking her door open, she peeked at the hallway with one eye and, when she knew it was safe, opened the door barely wide enough for her to fit through. Inching the door closed, she cringed when the latch clicked, and held her breath for a few seconds, listening for sound from her mom’s room. When the silence calmed her fears, she crept to the stairs. Years of running, jumping, and stomping up and down those stairs had taught her exactly which ones creaked. She deftly skipped the third and eighth steps and made sure to only step on the right side of the fifth one. From there, she slipped out the window she had left open in the dining room. She knew she couldn't use the doors because that would set off the alarms, and normally the system would tell her mother there was an open window, but Brianne had covered the sensor.

  Once she was out of the house, Brianne rode her bike the half mile to the only gas station in town to meet her friends. To be fair, there was only one of everything in Buck's Creek, except churches and bars. There were three churches and two bars, and everything except the bars closed by eight. It was a ghost town by nine and Brianne had only seen a couple of guys weaving back and forth across the street, peering at each house like they were trying to remember where they lived. In the dark, she couldn't see who it was, but judging from their short stature, it was probably the Taylor brothers. They'd be too drunk to know their own names, so if they happened to see her on her bike, they wouldn't remember it in the morning anyway.

  Brianne and Emery pedaled into the gas station at the same time and coasted to the back of the building where Serena was parked. Serena had a car and parents who didn't care if she stayed out all night, every night, so she was driving them to the city for the concert. Brianne instinctively pushed the seat forward to let Emery in the back, then jumped in the passenger's seat and put her seatbelt on. Emery didn't question it, even though it had been a few months since Brianne had been anywhere with them.

  "The three amigos, together again," Brianne laughed and threw her arms around Serena's neck. "I’ve missed our adventures."

  "Me too," agreed Emery, wrapping one arm around Brianne and one around Serena.

  "Me three. But we're going to have to hurry this reunion along if we plan to see any of the show," Serena said, starting the engine.

  The three girls chattered and sang their favorite Eluding Destiny songs the entire trip to the city, not stopping until they pulled into the parking lot of the concert hall. They hurried into the cavernous amphitheater in time to see the band's second set start. Stickiness permeated every part of the room from the spilled energy drinks on the floor to the sweat-soaked shirts clinging to bouncing teenagers. The girls ducked under and squeezed around several dripping strangers, finally deciding wading through the wall-to-wall clammy bodies was impossible. Brianne tapped a muscular, green-haired boy on the shoulder and pointed over their heads as she yelled over the music, "Can you put us up?"

  He grabbed her and lifted her over his shoulders. She laid back and rode the sea of hands to the front of the stage, her friends surfing the crowd behind her. Instead of leaving the security area and being forced to the back of the venue with all the other crowd surfers, she stopped and talked to one of the security guards. She met him at the concert her and Livvie attended last year. He gave her a high five and a big bear hug and she said something in his ear. Nodding, he made a space for her and her friends at the front of the crowd.

  "How do you do that?" Serena yelled over the music.

  "Do what?" Brianne yelled back.

  "You can always get people to do what you want. You can't tell me that security guard would have said yes if I had asked," Serena lowered her voice as the song ended.

  "I guess it's because I'm such a nice person," Brianne laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

  "Yeah, it's all because you're nice," Emery chimed in rolling her eyes. "It has nothing to do with those pretty hazel eyes and perfect pouty lips you push out even further when you want something from someone."

  "What? I...I do not!" Brianne stammered.

  The music roared through the speakers again, ending their friendly argument. The band played through a full set and were leaving the stage to take a break, but the deafening pleas from the crowd convinced them to give the eager crowd one more song. Within the first few notes, Brianne knew it was her favorite, "Truth Be Told." She grabbed her friends' hands and dragged them through the crowd to center stage. Halfway through the song, Robbie, the lead singer, locked eyes with her and sent her heart racing. Then, at the best part of the chorus, he jumped off a speaker, landed on the front of the stage on his knees and reached out and held her outstretched hand. Brianne's heart was nearly pounding out of her chest, her cheeks flamed, and her fingers tingled. Suddenly, the entire length of the stage burst into flames, Robbie and Brianne were forced apart, each of them jumping away from the fire. The c
harged-up crowd shoved forward, pressing everyone in the front closer to the flames. Screams rang out from all directions as everyone tried to get to safety.

  Brianne felt her feet leave the floor and watched the crowd pass as she was moved toward the security area. She looked over and recognized the security guard from when they crowd-surfed. He held her in one arm and Emery in the other. Twisting in his grip, she located Serena, who had been rescued by another guard right behind them. The flames were extinguished quickly and no one was hurt, but the concert was shut down early anyway.

  All the girls could talk about during the drive home was the fire. Serena and Emery were amazed that Brianne had not been burned.

  "Your arm was right there on the stage when the fire started," Serena insisted. "It should be burned, but somehow even your shirt sleeve is still in one piece. I don't understand."

  Emery disagreed, "Robbie pushed her away when the fire started. It must have started on one side and he saw it in time to protect her." She leaned forward from the back seat and continued excitedly, "How cool is it that you can say Robbie Ramey saved your life? And not figuratively, but he literally saved your life."

  "Don't you think you are being a bit dramatic, Em?" Brianne asked, laughing and reaching back to playfully smack her knee. If she were being honest, Brianne didn't know how she wasn't burned. She remembered feeling the heat of the flames, but it didn't hurt at all. Maybe Em was right. Maybe Robbie had pushed her away and she just imagined the flames on her arms. That was the only logical explanation she could think of. Brianne liked logical.

  During her bike ride home, Brianne's thoughts turned to getting back into the house. All she had to do was climb back into the dining room, close the window and creep up the stairs without being heard. Closing the window was the tricky part because she had to remove the sensor covers at exactly the right time to keep the alarm from sounding. She could take a chance and wait until morning to close it, but it was more likely her mom would notice an open window during breakfast and she didn't want that to happen.

  As she rounded the corner, she could see her house at the end of the street. Brianne stopped her bike and sucked in her breath. The lights were on. Crap! She was in so much trouble. She slowly began to pedal again. She didn't have a choice - she had to go back and face the punishment. Cringing, she imagined that look of disappointment in her mom’s eyes. Why can’t she just yell at me? I hate when she looks at me like that.

  She took a deep breath, carefully put her bike back in its spot, and turned to go in the kitchen door. As she passed by the dining room window, she could hear voices. She strained to make sense of them. No one else should have been in the house this late. Maybe her dad called and she was talking on speaker phone because it sounded like her mother was arguing with someone. She wasn't close enough to make out the words. She peeked through the sheer curtains and could see two shadows were on the living room wall. Definitely not a phone call, and not Dad because he is a lot taller than that.

  They wouldn't be able to see her if she climbed through the window to get a little closer. Afterward, she would go to the kitchen and pretend she came in that way. She slipped through the narrow window with ease, even though it was only open a crack. Once she was in, she made her way to the other side of the table and checked to make sure no one was in the hallway before she edged her way to the living room entranceway. Now she could hear WHAT they were saying, but she had no idea WHO was saying it.

  2

  The Truth

  “E

  XACTLY HOW DO YOU PROPOSE we tell her she's adopted?"

  That was her mother's voice. Brianne would recognize it anywhere. But she didn't recognize the other voice. If she could get a good look at who was in the room with her, maybe she could figure out who they were talking about.

  Brianne quietly leaned around the corner, straining her neck to get a glimpse of the person standing in front of her mother. Stretching every inch of her five-foot-four frame and standing on her tiptoes, she could barely see the top of the shaggy brown head from which the tinny voice emerged, "How you do it is of no concern to my Lady, just as long as you do it. You have 24 hours to inform Brianne Nicole of her heritage, after which, if you have not completed this task, you will be subject to the consequences as laid forth in the contract, signed by you on the day she was entrusted to your care."

  Hearing the pint-sized stranger speak her name caused Brianne to lose her balance and pitch forward, nearly crashing to the floor a few feet from her mother. But something snagged her shirt and kept her from falling. Whipping her head around to see what saved her from being discovered, she realized it wasn't a something, but a someone. She almost called for help, but something about the familiar stranger stopped her. He was about the same size as the person her mother was talking to, but he had skin the color of hot chocolate, and curly, black hair. It helped that his caramel-colored eyes were crinkled up in a friendly smile, and when she looked into them, she felt like she knew him. He obviously knew her.

  "Brianne Nicole Jameson. That is the name they gave you here, right? Jameson? It fits, I guess. But I will always know you as just Brianne Nicole." His words floated from his mouth to her ears as he flashed a brilliant smile.

  Her head was spinning, so much was going on at once. Who is mom talking to? And who is this guy? Man, he’s cute, but he’s so little. Except he didn't seem to just be short. He had the proportions of a fit basketball player, which made him look like he might be tall and lanky, but his whole body was shrunk down. She began to wonder if she really did hit her head and was imagining all of this. That would make more sense than her being adopted and some miniature guy saving her from getting caught eavesdropping on her mother and another little guy talking about it. She reached down and pinched her arm. Ow! Nope. Definitely real. Not a hallucination.

  Brianne regained her voice, and her attitude. Narrowing her eyes, she began interrogating the good-looking intruder, "Who are you and how do you know my name? Did you follow me here? Why are you so little? Are you with that guy in there with my mom?" Suddenly she stopped, wondering if that was her real mom or if what she had heard was true. Was she adopted?

  "Shhhhh!! You’re about to get us busted. That would suck for both of us since you are sneaking back IN to your house and I snuck out of my home to see you," the boy whispered. He grabbed her wrist and led her down the hallway, past the wall of family pictures her mother had meticulously designed, around the corner and up the stairs. "Which room is yours?"

  "It's the one with the Robbie Ramey poster on the door, but boys aren't allowed in my room." Brianne crossed her arms over her chest. "I would be grounded until I’m eighteen if my mom found you in there."

  "Seriously? You snuck out on a school night, are three hours past your curfew, and you want to start following the rules now?" He suppressed a chuckle.

  Brianne pursed her lips and sighed. “Fine, but before I let you in my room, I at least want to know your name.”

  "You don't remember me? They said you would forget, but you told me you would always remember me."

  "Remember you? I’m pretty sure I just met you for the first time after you broke into my house and dragged me away from my mother. If I have met you before, you obviously didn’t make a lasting impression. But, if it makes you feel any better, I’m sure I’ll remember you just fine after this little incident," Brianne whisper-yelled, planting her hands on her hips.

  The shrunken boy rolled his eyes. "Ah, yes. There is the overly-dramatic, stubborn, I'm-always-right-even-if-I'm-wrong girl that I remember. You win. Mackinley Kennett at your service.” He bowed and made circling motion with his hand. “Mack for short. I have no intentions of doing you any harm and will stay as far away from you as possible. Now, can we please get in your room before someone sees us?"

  "Well, Mack, not only are you the size of a twelve-year-old, but you are also just as annoying," Brianne shot back as she opened the door to her room.

  Mack stopped cold in the d
oorway. His eyes widened as big as bass drums and his mouth dropped open to the floor. Clothes were strewn over every surface – the floor, bed, desk, chair – everywhere but in the closet, the little part of the bed that could be seen was obviously unmade, makeup was scattered across the dresser in front of an oval mirror with pictures stuck in the frame, school books were thrown in the corner and posters and magazine pages featuring a variety of alternative bands were pasted to every wall. The only clean spot was a small bedside table that held a picture of Brianne and a blonde girl, who looked to be a couple of years younger, dried flowers, and a necklace with a heart locket on it. Recovering from the initial shock, he walked into her room like he was walking through a minefield, carefully placing his feet in the few bare spots on the floor, jumping to the last one. When both feet were safely in the clean spot, he turned his wide eyes toward Brianne. “What happened in here? Couldn't decide what to wear?"

  "Haha. Very funny.” She shot him a dirty look. "So, I'm a little messy. So what? My mom stopped caring about that a long time ago." She ran her fingers over the picture frame on the bedside table. "Speaking of my mom..." Brianne began, trailing off without finishing her question. She quickly turned away from Mack, but not before he caught a glimpse of her wet eyes. Swiping across her eyes with the back of her hand, she took a quick breath, turned back around and began again, "Do you know anything about what they were talking about down there?"

  "Uhh...maybe," his voice faltered and he cleared his throat, "but you may want to sit down first."

  Brianne plopped down on the end of her bed, knocking off a few pairs of jeans, and looked up at him expectantly. Mack searched for the right words, "Um, so a long time ago...uh...when you were little...at least little here, not really little there...I mean, you were little, but not young...there, I mean, because here you were a baby...Dang it! I don't even know where to begin."