by LJ Rivers
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said and welcomed me into his arms.
“B!” I fell into him and gave him a kiss. How I had longed for the taste of his lips. “Missed me?”
“Just a tad.” He hugged me to him, telling me exactly how much he really had missed me.
“So this is the swordsman.” Rhys picked up Brendan’s bag and tossed it on the back platform of his car, then held out his ham-sized hand to greet my boyfriend. “Welcome.”
Brendan’s hand disappeared into Rhys’. “Brendan. Nice to meet you, sir.”
Rhys let out a loud, bellowing laugh that would have made Brian Blessed blush. “Nothing sir about me, llanc. Rhys is my name, and I won’t answer to any other.”
“Then I won’t use any other,” said Brendan.
Rhys was suddenly eager to talk and spent most of the return trip playing tour guide to Brendan. I sat between them at first, but only a few minutes in, I suggested Brendan and I swap places. Rhys let out another one of his earthquake laughs as I crawled over Brendan to sit by the door.
“You see, lad, this here was the old church—”
While the bear Shifter explained everything from building rock walls between farms to how best to shear the wool off a sheep, I leaned back and listened to their voices. If Rhys was accepting of my human boyfriend, perhaps my grandparents would be as well. Not that I would hold my breath.
As we rolled down the hill towards the town where the first Mags had settled almost fifteen hundred years earlier, I couldn’t help but think that I belonged here. Not to live, but the small town of some eight or nine hundred people was part of me. My history. Mum’s history. I pointed at the silhouette in the rolling waves south of Perllanafal.
“That’s Bardsey Island,” I said to Brendan.
“Where you and—?”
“Mhm.” I didn’t want to go into details in front of Rhys. Besides, we were coming up on the farm. “And to our left, this freshly mowed field is the beginning of the Morgana farm. I guess you could say, here are my roots.”
We turned to drive up the narrow road to the farm buildings, and two wolves came galloping towards us. The bigger of them, Rhod Hopkins, stopped and sneered at the car. His cousin, Osian, mimicked Rhod’s moves.
“Could you stop for a second?” I asked Rhys. He did, and I rolled down the window and waved at the wolves. “You’ve done a fine job in the field, I’ll give you that. Maybe we’ll talk tomorrow, start anew?”
The largest of the silver-grey wolves sauntered over to my outstretched hand. He looked me in the eyes before rubbing his forehead against my hand. His tail wagged ever so slightly.
“OK, then,” I said and patted his head.
Rhys set the car back in motion and drove up to the house. Charlie and Jen came to meet us.
“Llew has gone to one of the neighbours to trade some goods,” Charlie said. “And Lili is fast asleep.”
The guilt grabbed a hold of me again. “Oh, maybe I should stay until my grandfather comes back, then?”
“Lowrie is here, so that’s not necessary. Hi, B!”
“Ladies.” Brendan flashed them a smile.
“We’ll jump on the back.” Jen hopped aboard. “Come on, Char.” She helped Charlie up, and they sat with their backs to the cabin.
“I guess that means we go visit Mari,” I said. “If that’s all right with you, I mean?”
Rhys chuckled. “You think I have a say in this? She’ll be thrilled to see the lot of you.”
He turned the car around and headed back towards the gate again.
“You’ll love Mari,” I said to Brendan—probably for the tenth time since we started back from Pwllheli.
Five minutes later, the old Land Rover coughed and jerked as it backfired and came to a stop outside the Wogans’ house. Mari had her arms crossed in the doorway, talking to a man. While tall, he had a sinking potbelly, which looked out of place on his otherwise lean body. He stood straight, which I found a little strange, as he was at least three feet taller than Mari’s four. His face was long and his chin pointy, with a black goatee. Mari frowned, her cheeks flushed. When she turned to look at the car, however, her eyes met mine, and she broke into the warm, contagious smile I remembered. It spread into every nook and cranny of her face, including her glittering eyes. As I stepped out of Rhys’ car and into the Goblin’s embrace, I was once again reminded how she was the spitting image of Tabitha Hawthorne.
“My dear Ruby,” she said, mostly into my chest, as I had a good foot and a half on her in height. “You look even more beautiful than I recall.” She backed up a step, regarding me.
The tall man inclined his head at me. His brown eyes had a shade of red in them. I could tell he was a Magical, but not what kind. Maybe a Shifter, as his face could resemble that of a deer or a goat.
“Mari, Rhys,” he said, giving a slight nod. “I will leave you to your guests.”
Mari held a hand to her face. “Oh, my Lady, where are my manners? This is our reeve, Gil—”
“Gilroy Yeats. Nice to meet you, Miss …?”
“Ruby,” I said, not feeling the need to give him my full name. “Reeve? That’s like a mayor, right?”
He offered me a wry smile, one that didn’t extend past the corners of his mouth. “Something like that. If you’ll excuse me?” The reeve threw a quick glance at the others and left. His feet made a clopping sound on the cobbled sidewalk.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mari give Rhys a minuscule shake of her head before changing gears. With a smile, even broader than the one I got, she gestured at Brendan. “What a golygus young man!”
Brendan stepped forward and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs Wogan.”
Mari looked at his hand for a second, then pushed it aside. “What’s this formal nonsense? My name’s Mari. Come here, llanc.” She opened her arms again.
Brendan leaned down and gave her a hug. My heart boomed at the sight, as it had more or less since Rhys had picked me up outside the gate to the Morgana farm a couple of hours earlier.
“Oh, this one’s almost as strong as my Rhys.” Mari patted Brendan on his arms. “Now why would you want to waste all these muscles on fencing?”
Brendan grinned. “Ruby told me you were special, Mrs Wo—I mean, Mari—and I can see why she likes you so much.”
“I don’t know about special, but at my age, I’ll take it as a compliment.” She angled sideways to look behind Brendan. “And here are the girls, what a pair of angylion you are.”
Did she just call them angels? I scanned my brain for any memory of having mentioned it to her, but came up empty.
“Charlie, right?” Mari said.
“That’s me,” Charlie said. “Nice to meet you, Mari.”
“And you.” Mari looked up at Jen, narrowing her gaze. “There’s something hiding behind those eyes, isn’t there? I don’t have Darllen, but … is there a wolf in there?”
Jen gave the Goblin one of her ice-melting smiles. “There is. In fact, I was roaming this morning with some locals. Hope we didn’t wake you?”
“Oh, not at all, child. Rhys was already in his boat, and I can never sleep after that. Did you make friends with the local pack, then?”
“I did. Their Alpha wasn’t there, but Rhod, the Beta, accepted me. And I him.”
I hadn’t asked Jen about it, but it dawned on me that Rhod and Osian already had a pack. And though they had accepted her, there was at least one other Alpha in town, and the Hopkins cousins answered to theirs, not to Jen.
Mari tilted her head. “I see. So, you’re an Alpha yourself. That means you have an ally here now. And Vaughn Hopkins, Rhod’s father, has an ally in you, should he ever need one, is that about right?”
“Something like that.”
“Let’s hope you’ll never need each other, then.” Mari clapped her hands. “But let’s not stand here all day. I hope you’re hungry?”
“Always,” Jen said.
Mari held the door open, and we went
inside. As I stepped over the threshold as the last of the four guests, I heard Mari whisper to Rhys.
“—was here the whole time you were gone. Why does he have to come here every time?”
“Not now, Mari,” Rhys replied. “Now, what have you cooked for us today, annwyl?”
As it turned out, Mari had made a stew similar to the one my grandfather had served for supper yesterday, but her skills in the kitchen far outshone the old Fae. The smell alone, which hit us the moment we entered the house, was a symphony to the senses.
“This must drive you crazy, Jen,” I said.
She had her nose in the air. “Crazy with hunger. This is pure bliss.”
“I’m afraid it’s nothing fancy,” Mari said as we sat. She poured a bright orange lemonade in our glasses while Rhys placed an enormous pan on the sturdy, wooden table. “It’s just a regular Cawl Cymreig. The Pritchards were here yesterday with such a fine piece of lamb, that I couldn’t help myself.”
“Nothing fancy?” Brendan exclaimed. “This is giving the Irish stew a run for it, let me tell you.”
“That’s very kind of you, llanc, even if I’ve never had Irish stew. Is that with lamb, too?”
“Ay, and potatoes and swede, I think. It’s really not my strong suit.”
“Now there’s a lie, if I ever heard one,” I said. “Brendan is quite adept in the kitchen. He cooked the most amazing Christmas dinner last year. Mum was thoroughly impressed. Maybe you should share some ideas with Mari?”
“We don’t do Christmas here,” Mari said. “Sori, I didn’t mean it was wrong or anything.” She glanced at her husband. “Don’t just sit there, you old fool. Our guests are hungry.”
There was something in their behaviour that struck me as strange. Mari seemed nervous. Why had the reeve been here? If they were in any sort of trouble, I would love to help. I had fallen in love with the Wogans, plain and simple.
Rhys proceeded to ladle out generous portions, and I braced myself for what lay ahead. There was no way I would manage all of it, but I was ready to die trying. Charlie, Brendan, and Mari were already deep into discussing the various herbs that made this version Mari’s own. In between mouthfuls I recognised a couple of words like thyme and rosemary.
“Now, what’s this?” Mari pointed at Jen’s empty plate. “Please, child, have some more.”
Hands on her stomach, Jen ogled the food. “Don’t mind if I do.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “This, Red, is true magic.”
The table shook. “Sori.” Rhys rocked with laughter. He pushed back on his chair, and the table stilled. “That was a good one, little wolf.”
Little? Well, I guessed it made sense, compared to the giant bear I reckoned he could shift into.
“Do you use your herbal magic for more than cooking?” Charlie asked.
Mari put her spoon on her plate. “The cooking is perhaps the least magical thing I do with it. Ever since we lived on Avalon, we Goblins have worked together with the Fae to help the sick and dying. The Fae are better at healing, as I’m sure you have learned from Ruby here. The Goblins try to prevent illness before healing is necessary.”
“Prevention is better than cure.” Charlie nodded. “I read it on a pamphlet at a London hospital. I think it was from the WHO.”
“Not sure what WHO is, but I suppose that’s how us Goblins think.”
“I know a Goblin who works with Mum in the same way. Worked, I mean.” My voice cracked as I realised my mistake. I drank a couple of swigs of lemonade. “What is this, by the way?”
“I was meaning to ask,” Brendan said, gently squeezing my hand under the table. “It tastes like nothing I’ve ever had before.”
Mari beamed. “You like it?”
“I love it.”
“It’s a mix of a few fruits and herbs. We sell a lot of it at the hotel. Lemons, strawberries, watermelon, mint and, well, a few other things.” She winked. “I can’t give away all my secrets, now can I?”
“Anyway,” I said, “I promised my friend Tabitha to ask you about something. She was raised by a Goblin couple, but they were not her biological parents. They lived in an underground village in London called Berlysh Cae.”
“Oh, I know about the Cae, all right. Don’t much like how they changed the name, or the way it has turned out in the later years.” The Goblin shook her head. “Terrible business with the bombs and all. We’ve read about it in the Chronicle.”
“Yes, that’s the place. Did you also read about the events of June 6th?”
“I don’t think so. We get the Chronicle only once a month, and I think the last issue was for the days before, isn’t that right, Rhys?”
Her husband nodded. “But I saw something about it in Pwllheli a day or two after. Front page had a picture of a fire.”
“That was when my mum died.”
Rhys nodded again. “Llew told me that, too. Police were searching for days in the river. I’m very sori for you, Ruby.”
“Thank you.” I swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to bring it up, now that we were having such a good time. Can we get back to Tabitha, perhaps? My point is that she looks exactly like you, Mari. If I hadn’t known better, I’d say she was your sister. Well, I’d say your older sister, of course.”
Mari didn’t say anything at first. She just stared at me. Then at Rhys.
“I don’t know.” He held his palms up in front of him. “Sounds a bit far-fetched.”
Mari dabbed her mouth with her napkin, an almost out-of-place gesture for the rural setting we were in, but still very much in character for Mari. A tiny touch of elegance in her simplicity.
“It might not be how it’s done elsewhere,” she began, “but it is our way. The plants are cared well for.”
“The plants? I don’t understand.” Jen gestured at the room as if to emphasise the number of pots and plants in the Wogans’ house.
“Plant is Welsh for children,” I said.
“Right, children. Perllanafal is a small town. On purpose.”
A horrifying thought settled in my mind, and I could tell by the looks on the faces of my friends that they were thinking similar thoughts.
“No, no, no, don’t look so shocked, dear me.” Mari held her hand to her chest and chuckled. “It’s well known among all of Nimue’s acolytes that the firstborn has stronger blood than any other child. That’s why most don’t have any more children than the one.”
“Mum once told me Fae can have only one,” I said. “Isn’t that right?”
“That it is, merch. But sometimes, especially among Shifters, a second or even third child comes along. They are put down.”
A clank sounded when Charlie dropped her spoon on the edge of her plate. “That’s terrible!”
“I don’t think that’s the right term, annwyl,” Rhys interjected. “They are put up. For mabwysiadu … what’s that in English?” He shook his head, searching for the word.
“Adoption?” Brendan suggested.
“That’s it.” Rhys clapped his hands together so hard he extinguished two of the candles. “Adoption. It’s not too often, and the teuluoedd—the families—are all fine with it. Supposedly, it keeps the bloodlines of every teulu stronger. Cleaner, somehow.”
“Purer?” I asked.
“Ie. Pure.”
“Why do I get the impression you don’t quite agree with this tradition?” Brendan asked. “Is it because you’re not the same kind? If that’s not an offensive way of putting it?”
Rhys snorted. “Llanc, you have to work hard to offend an old fisherman.” The chair creaked, begging for mercy when Rhys leaned back. I was waiting for him to say something more in response to Brendan’s question, but none came.
I cut through the awkward pause. “So, did your parents have another child, Mari? One they named Tabitha, and who they then put up for adoption?”
Her eyes widened. When she spoke, her voice had a tremble in it. “I—it’s only the firstborn that is named. Any other child is taken out of town as soon
as possible and brought to their new family. I have heard that some have left a note in the baby’s clothing, with a name on it.” She picked up the napkin again, but this time it was to wipe a tear. “I was five at the time. I remember asking Mam one day about her belly. ‘Is it getting bigger?’ I asked. She laughed and said she’d had too much to eat. It would soon be back to normal. At five, I didn’t think more of it.
“But one night, in the middle of winter, I was awakened by a scream. One I couldn’t connect to Mam or Tad; it was too shrill to be any one of them. I guess I thought it was part of a dream or something. Outside, the moon threw a dim light on the ground, and I remember there was something white on the grass. I wanted to ask Tad about it, so I snuck out of my room, my precious doll under my arm, and went across the hall. The door to my parents’ room was always open, in case I had a bad dream or just wanted to sleep between them. That night, however, it was closed. I tried to open it, but it was locked. That had never happened before. Inside the room, I could hear muffled voices and a strange sound, like the baa of a newborn lamb. I knocked on the door, and the voices stopped. The lamb kept baaing, but the sound was lower, like something was blocking its mouth.
“‘Put her back in bed,’ Mam said behind the door. Tad said something back to her, but I couldn’t hear what it was.”
Charlie and Jen sat with their heads in their hands, like children listening to the most exciting storyteller, which wasn’t too far from the truth. Brendan had taken my hand under the table again. I gave him a squeeze, and he responded in kind.
“Tad came out of the room, opening the door just enough so he could sneak through. I tried to get a look at Mam and the lamb, but he shut the door before I could see anything. ‘Come on, fy mach. Mam’s not feeling well. Best we let her be.’
