by A. S. Green
Rowan steeled her jaw. She was still totally pissed, but her expression turned to one of professional coolness. Nurse McNeely was back.
“You don’t look well,” she said, her tone sounding flat. “Let’s get you inside.”
She pivoted and walked up the steps and into the house, clearly expecting him to follow. She hung up her coat on a hook by the door then headed down the hall for the kitchen.
Declan did follow her inside, but he stopped in the sitting room, thinking it best to give her some space. He sat on the couch and grabbed his cell phone from where it was charging on the table. Wedding or no, Cormac would kill him if he didn’t let him know about this latest development.
There were a number of text messages waiting for him and he saw they were photos from the wedding: Cormac looking like a bad ass, as per usual, and Meghan looking like a faerie princess in white, her dark curls blowing around her face. Aiden stood stoically behind them in most of the shots, his tie knotted with precision and the rest of it hanging impeccably straight.
Declan didn’t regret staying behind. What he regretted was the phone call he had to make.
After several minutes, Rowan returned with more of that damn green tonic. This time, he noted, without the glamour. He was being punished.
“I’m going upstairs,” she said. “I need some time to clear my head.”
“I owe you that,” he said. “I’ll be up in a while.”
She didn’t respond, and a second later he heard her footsteps on the stairs. This sound was followed by a loud rumbling from outside, in front of the house.
Declan stood up and walked to the window, tightening his grip on his phone as he went. “Holy shit.”
The dark green pick-up was parked on the overgrown dirt road, not twenty feet from his front gate. He could see the two Black Castle from the woods—conscious once more—arguing inside the cab. They weren’t looking at the house, which gave Declan the assurance they still couldn’t see it. But what had brought them this close? Was the charm weakening? If the house was compromised, should he send Rowan home?
No, he thought. Her home had no charm whatsoever—even a weakening one—and at least here, he could protect her. Even if she now doubted him.
Declan turned his phone in his palm and called Cormac.
“Hey!” His brother’s jubilant voice came through the speaker. “We wish you’d come. You don’t know what you’re missing. Aiden just—”
“Cormac,” Declan said, his voice low and troubled. “We have a problem.”
* * *
ROWAN
Rowan went upstairs and down the hall toward Aiden’s room, not knowing if she should pack and go home, or barricade herself in a safe room before the next disaster. Did the MacConalls even have a safe room? They should, the way they went around picking fights with armed terrorists, and she now had a gnawing suspicion that the brothers weren’t the defenders, but rather the instigators of whatever went down at Kawishiwi Falls two months ago.
She remembered once hearing her father complain that the cú sídhe might be liberated, but they could never shake their base instincts. They’ll get bored without a fight, he’d said, and the rest of the sídhe will pay the price.
At the time, she’d disregarded it as just more of that generation’s prejudice. The cú sídhes’ instincts were to protect against a threat, not to go creating them. But now she wondered if her father had been right.
With her head down, she leaned against Aiden’s door and went inside. That’s when a caustic voice snapped, “Who the hell are you?”
Rowan’s head jerked up and she let out a little yelp. A beautiful, raven-haired female was sitting on the edge of Aiden’s bed, and her dark brown eyes were narrowed at Rowan in anger. She didn’t look like a pádraig, so Rowan didn’t think she had any part in the Black Castle, but—whoever she was—she still felt like a threat.
“Um…” Rowan looked around the room to make sure no one else was going to jump out at her. “I’m Rowan McNeely. How did you get in here?”
The intruder didn’t answer Rowan’s question, apparently because she had more of her own. “What are you doing here?”
This time Rowan felt her impatience growing. This interrogation should be going the other way around. “I’ve been staying here.”
“In Aiden’s room?” she snapped.
Rowan glanced meaningfully down at her open suitcase. “Yes.”
“You’ve been sleeping in his bed?”
“Again… Yes. Now—”
The intruder pushed up to standing, and Rowan was surprised to see how tiny she was. She couldn’t have been more than five foot.
“A daoine?” she asked, sounding both disbelieving and like she’d tasted something bitter. “In the house of a cú sídhe?”
Rowan clenched her teeth and lifted her chin. She’d had just about enough. This…whatever she was…was a trespasser.
“Where’s Aiden?” the intruder asked.
“He’s not here,” Rowan said, suddenly feeling like she needed to protect him from what was seeming more and more like a stalker ex-girlfriend.
Now the intruder’s eyes widened in horrified disbelief, and the golden flecks in her brown eyes flickered like there was a light coming from within. “What do you mean he’s not here? Aiden would never leave Declan alone!”
Rowan crossed her arms. “He didn’t leave Declan alone. As I said, I’ve been staying here.”
“Where is he?” she asked, pushing past Rowan and heading for the door.
“Who?” Rowan asked. She was getting confused.
The female spun around to face her, and she threw her arms out in exasperation. “Aiden!”
“He’s with Cormac and Meghan,” Rowan said, hoping she wasn’t giving away confidential information. “At their wedding.”
The female let her arms drop dramatically. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling then said wearily and mostly to herself, “Why didn’t anybody tell me?”
Rowan had no answer for that because she still didn’t know who the hell this person was. “I’m sorry, but you never told me your name.”
“Branna,” she said impatiently. “Have they come yet?”
Rowan blinked as her brain slowly came to terms with the fact she was talking to the púca, the shotgun-disabling rabbit. “Um… Has who come yet? Do you mean Cormac?”
“No, stupid. The Black Castle.”
“The men from the woods?”
“You saw them then?”
Rowan nodded defeatedly.
Branna rushed out of the room and all the way down the hallway past the stairs to the window that looked over the front yard. “Damn,” she muttered, laying one palm against the glass.
Rowan followed behind her, and her shoulders stiffened when she saw the familiar green truck pulling away from the front of the house.
Branna sagged against the door to Cormac and Meghan’s room. Rowan leaned up against the locked door just opposite it. The door had a unique “X” pattern, and the wooden braces cut into her back.
“How?” Rowan asked. “There’s supposed to be a charm on the house.”
“I know,” Branna said, with a disdainful air. “I put it there. But it’s weakening.”
“You made the charm?” Rowan asked, suddenly feeling more hopeful. “Then if it’s weakening, you can do something about it!”
“I already did do something,” Branna snapped. “Sixty years ago. But I can’t be expected to control these MacConall idiots.”
“The MacConalls?” Rowan asked. How could this be their fault? Two of them weren’t even here, and all she and Declan had done was go for a walk. “What did they do?”
“Yeah,” said a deep voice from the stairs. “What did they do?”
Rowan’s heart jumped in her chest. The voice wasn’t Declan’s.
Chapter Thirteen
DECLAN
A few moments later, everyone had gathered in the kitchen. The three MacConall brothers and Branna each stoo
d at one of the four walls, as if they were the four points on a compass, and each of them had a different idea as to which direction they should go.
Declan stood against the interior wall, facing Cormac who sat on the counter along the north wall. Declan envied his brother’s casual demeanor as he sat with his legs spread. Meghan stood between his thighs with her back to his chest. His arms were wrapped around her, and he held her hands just under her breasts. Cormac looked serious, but not necessarily worried about the Black Castle or the apparent chink in the protective charm on their house.
If Declan was in his shoes, he’d wrap his anamchara in more than just his arms. She’d be swathed in goddamn bubble wrap. Didn’t Cormac understand that he had so much more to lose now?
Rowan stood along the same wall as Declan, but a few feet away. Even that small separation felt dangerous to him. He took a side-step closer and reached for her hand, but she folded her arms. She was clearly still angry about what happened in the woods, and rightly so. It wasn’t going to be easy to make amends.
Declan caught Meghan’s eye and, to his chagrin, she had obviously noticed the subtle communication between him and Rowan. Meghan gave him a look that said he’d be bombarded with questions if she ever caught him alone.
“We need to figure out what happened to the protective charm on the house,” Cormac said. “Take me through what’s happened since we left, step-by-step. Maybe we can figure it out.”
“Why don’t you ask Branna?” Rowan suggested, giving Cormac a confused look. “She’s the one who put it there in the first place.”
“WHAT?” all three brothers asked in unison as their eyes jerked toward the púca.
That couldn’t be right, Declan thought. Their father had won the charm off a kelpie during a card game. At least that’s what he’d told them…
Branna gave Rowan a look that could kill. That threatening look triggered Declan to step closer to Rowan. If she didn’t want to hold his hand, that was her prerogative, but she couldn’t stop him from staying close.
“I’m sorry,” Rowan said, glancing apologetically back and forth across all the faces in the room. “Was that a secret?”
“Is Rowan right?” Aiden asked Branna, his dark eyebrows pulled together in a serious expression as he leaned against the stove. He braced the heels of his hands on the stove’s surface while his fingers curved forward around the edge. His knuckles were turning white.
Branna focused her irritation on Aiden, and her tone went sarcastic when she cocked her head to the side and said, “Maybe.”
“Explain,” Declan growled. He had been willing to give Rowan time to clear her head when she’d asked for it, but they still had an argument to work through. It wouldn’t be in his best interest to let it fester. If he didn’t get things smoothed over soon, they ran the risk of going permanently bumpy.
Branna exhaled, then answered Declan without taking her eyes off Aiden. “The charm was dependent on Aiden, not on the house. So long as his presence was detectable within its walls, the house remained invisible to pádraigs—” She gave Meghan a quick but meaningful glance. “—Full blooded pádraigs. When Aiden left, after a couple days, presumably his scent began to fade and with it…the charm. Perhaps if you had told me you were leaving—”
“Why Aiden?” Cormac asked.
Who cares? Declan thought. Aiden was back, so now the charm was intact. The pádraigs were gone. Yes, he would have liked to know why their father had lied about the kelpie, but right now all he wanted was to get Rowan alone; they needed to talk.
“It was completely arbitrary. Why not Aiden?” Branna countered while keeping her eyes on their youngest brother. But then Branna blinked and tossed her glossy black hair as if remembering herself. “Now, what are you going to do about the men in the truck?”
Finally, Declan thought. Let’s get to the matter at hand.
“So, to be clear,” Meghan asked, “the charm is reinstated?”
“Yes,” Branna answered curtly.
“You’re sure?” Cormac asked, apparently willing to put the details aside for the time being.
“Yes! She’s sure,” Declan snapped. "She said so. Now, moving on. The men in the truck. What are we doing about them?”
“Okay, then,” Cormac said, stroking his hand across his beard. “I want to call a council meeting for tomorrow morning. It’s been a long time. We’re due, especially now that we need to present a unified front when it comes to the Black Castle. It would be a good idea for me to introduce Meghan to a larger circle, too.”
“The council?” Aiden asked, sounding surprised. “It takes time to plan something like that. We can’t just rush into a council meeting without thinking it through. It could be dangerous.”
A council meeting? Declan thought. Rowan’s father would likely go to something like that. Maybe he could talk to him… Make a better second impression than he’d made the first go-around?
Or maybe it would be another disaster. The various sídhe clans had never been a cohesive group, but after many of their emigrations to America, the uncertainty of their new futures had led to even more in-fighting and battles for control. The cú sídhe protests and ultimate liberation still felt fresh for many, even centuries later. If the stories were true, the most successful council meetings were the ones that ended only in fist fights.
No, he thought. A council meeting—even one that ended badly—might be a good opportunity for Rowan’s father to see him for who he really was. Not an invalid, but someone worthy. He could share the information he’d learned in the woods—limited though it was—and show Rowan that there was method to his madness.
“It may be dangerous,” Declan said, “but Cormac’s right. We’ve never been safe. Calling a council meeting doesn’t make things worse. Meeting or no, we could be dead by morning.”
“Declan!” Rowan exclaimed, sounding horrified, and her lavender eyes went round. “Don’t talk like that.”
“Sorry,” Declan said, hearing too late how that must have sounded to her. “I wasn’t trying to be overly dramatic. Truly. Just stating a simple fact. Tomorrow was never promised to any of us. It never has been. And frankly, I’m sick of hiding.”
“But maybe it’s better to lie low,” Rowan said. “This will all blow over. They’ll get bored and tired of looking. Remember what we heard them say in the woods? They’re volunteers. No one does anything for free for very long.”
“With all due respect,” Meghan said softly, apparently trying to be considerate of Rowan’s obvious nerves. “I know my aunt. She won’t give up. Nothing ‘blows over’ with her. When I was thirteen, she kept me grounded for six months. It wasn’t supposed to be that long but it seemed every time I breathed, she found new reason to extend it. She couldn’t let it go and that was just little shit. With my uncle dead…”
“What happened to your uncle?” Rowan asked.
Meghan’s gaze swung to Declan, and he gave his head a little shake. He still didn’t want to explain all that happened at the falls to Rowan. Before, he thought her sensibilities were too delicate to go into that much detail; now, her nerves were shot.
Meghan raked a hand through her long curly hair and snagged on a snarl. “I’m just saying, she won’t give up. We need to end this now. Then we can get back to making a home and building a future.”
A home and a future, Declan thought. Two things he never thought he’d have, ever again.
Cormac dipped his chin and kissed the top of Meghan’s head. “That’s right. I’m back. Married. And head of this clan. Da called the last council—”
“And look how that turned out,” Aiden barked. “He was dead within the hour. Ye can’t rush into a council meeting. We need to get organized.”
“We will have order,” Cormac assured him. “But it’s time we went on the offense. Declan’s right. No more hiding. The cú sídhe don’t hide.”
Declan exchanged a look with Aiden. He’d lost count of how many times he’d wondered what hiding in the
cupboard had cost them.
Out of the corner of his eye, Declan saw Branna shift uncomfortably, probably because she’d been the one to make them do it, to hide in a cupboard instead of fight. She looked to the side as if unable or unwilling to make eye contact with any of them and fixed her gaze on a spot on the wall.
“What do ye think?” Aiden asked her.
Branna kept focus on the wall. “I think it doesn’t matter if you hide or if you call the council.”
“Why not?” Aiden asked.
Branna blinked once. Declan almost expected to see a tear fall, though her eyes remained dry. Then she turned to face Aiden and delivered her opinion in a way only Branna could. “I’ve walked this planet for a millennium, and there’s one thing I’ve learned. You can kill them all, or they can kill you, but the world will keep on turning, and there will always be plenty of revenge and hate to go around.”
She broke her gaze from Aiden and pinned Declan to the wall with the intensity of her gaze. “You fix that, and maybe you’ll get a future worth living.”
* * *
ROWAN
The rest of the day was spent with paper and pen as the MacConalls settled on holding the council at a faerie ring in some neutral middle ground near Isabella. Aiden researched the names and phone numbers of all the sídhe clan leaders along the North Shore and into the Boundary Waters area of northern Minnesota. As quickly as he’d come up with a number, Cormac would make the call, starting with the cú sídhe, then moving on to the other clans, convincing the leaders to notify their family groups with the hopes that the majority of them would respond.
Rowan was still giving Declan a wide berth. She was still angry with him for putting them both at risk, but her temper was fading. The fact they were putting together a plan helped immensely.
When Cormac asked if she wanted to contact the daoine clan in Ely herself, she was tempted. Ultimately, she politely declined. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help, but the daoine were not used to a female taking the lead. She worried she’d do more harm than good. The MacConalls seemed to understand without her explaining, even if Meghan seemed disappointed in her.
