by Mary Lindsey
“Liam, you mean?” Anna left her chair and stood behind me, facing her. The girl nodded, avoiding my eyes. Anna ran her fingers through my hair. “Well, I wasn’t offering you Liam, only a bowl of soup. He is delicious, though, huh?”
Anna must have made a face or gesture behind my back because the girl covered her mouth and giggled.
“He’s not what you’ve been taught, Deirdre. He’s just a person like you and me.” Anna sat in the new chair by my side and left hers opposite me open. She switched the bowls so that Deirdre wouldn’t have to sit next to me. “Who do you work for?”
“You, miss.”
“Then do as I say and sit, please.”
Deirdre obeyed, moving as if she were treading upon broken glass. Gingerly, she sat, stiff-backed and wary.
“Go ahead. I want your opinion on the soup,” Anna said. “I think it needs something. What do you think?”
It needed nothing, but my clever Anna had found a way to entice the girl to eat without guilt. My chest swelled with admiration.
We ate in silence for a while. Deirdre struggled to not shovel the soup into her mouth as fast as possible. I knew that kind of hunger. I’d felt it much of my life.
“What do you think?” Anna asked.
“Oh, miss. It’s wonderful.”
“Well, I think you should test out another bowl for me,” she said, taking Deirdre’s bowl and filling it at the stove. “So, how did you come to work here?” Anna placed the fresh bowl in front of her.
Deirdre’s eyes darted to Anna and then back to her bowl. “Since my dad lost his boat in a storm, we really nm, bowl ineed the money. My parents also thought it best I get some training to make me a good wife.”
Anna dropped her spoon into her bowl. “Wife! My God. How old are you?”
Deirdre sat up even straighter. “I’m almost fourteen. I’m plenty old, miss. My mom married at barely thirteen.”
Anna shot me a horrified look.
Her parents, Polly and Edmond Byrne, struggled hard to feed themselves, and the only reason they hadn’t married her off already, lessening the burden, was because of the lack of eligible husbands.
Deirdre took another bite of soup. “You see, miss, if I get married, it’ll be better for my family. My husband will provide for me and I’ll have a warm place in the winter and a real bed.”
“You don’t have a bed?”
Deirdre put her spoon down and wiped her mouth. “My family does right by me, if that’s what you’re asking.” She raised her chin and tucked a loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear.
Anna nodded and tore off a piece of bread. “So, if I needed an employee to live here and be my personal assistant, would that be something you’d consider?”
“Live here, miss?”
“With your own room,” Anna added.
Her face lit like a lantern, then clouded over. “Well, I’d have to ask my parents. Are you sure it would be okay with Miss Ronan?”
Anna’s expression didn’t change, but her tone was as ominous as a threatening storm. “Miss Ronan works for me.”
“Yes, of course, miss.” Deirdre stared at her hands folded in her lap.
Anna carried her empty bowl to the sink and Deirdre jumped to her feet. “No, miss! Please, let me. It’s my job.”
“Great. If you’d clear the table, then, that would be great,” Anna said, placing the pot in the refrigerator.
Deirdre reached for my bowl and then recoiled as if touching something I had touched would taint her somehow. Though it stung, I didn’t fault her. She’d been systematically brainwashed from infancy. “It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll get it.”
After putting my bowl in the sink, I followed Anna back through the constrictive hallway into the entry hall. “Let’s go outside,” she said. “This place gets to me after a while.”
As we descended the porch steps, the wind shifted out of the south. Anna covered her mouth. “My God! What’s that smell?”
It was a smell one never forgot. It burned into the core of memory for eternity, permeating all senses to the point of being its own special sixth sense of sorts. It was the smell of Dòchas. The smell of the inevitable. The smell of death.
“Let’s go back inside,” I suggested.
Her hand muffled her words. “What is it? God. It’s horrible.”
“It’s Johnny’s funeral pyre. You can see it just there.” I pointed to an area west of the lighthouse where a dark plume of smoke rose into the air. Like a terrifying specter, it writhed and twisted, bringing its inevitable scent with it, causing the living in its path to recoil in dread.
Anna, mouth still covered, ran back into the house.
I followed, but there was no sign of her in the entry. Eyes huge, Deirdre huuffled hovered in the archway leading to the kitchen.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“I won’t tell you. I won’t let you hurt her.”
She must have thought it was I who had spooked her. “For God’s sake, Deirdre. Tell me where she is.”
“No.”
“Liam!” Anna’s voice came from upstairs. Without another glance at the girl, I ascended the stairs two at a time, calling out for her when I reached the top.
“I’m here.” Her voice came from a room at the far right of the balcony.
I found her curled up in a window seat beneath an expanse of stained glass that stretched all the way to the ceiling. Sunlight refracted through the beveled pieces of glass, showering her skin and hair with flecks of color, making her appear Otherworldly.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. I just had to get away from the smell—that smell of burning . . . Ugh.” She shuddered.
The room had a settee the color of the sea and a bed with spiral carved posts several feet taller than I was that tapered to sharp points. On a stand near the bed, an enormous suitcase stuffed full of clothes stood open.
Following my gaze, Anna remarked, “I didn’t unpack. I hadn’t planned on staying.”
“Good,” I blurted out before I could catch myself.
“Good?”
“Anna, I . . .” The hurt look on her face caused something in my chest to pinch. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”
“I’m glad because it sounded pretty crappy.”
I sat next to her. “This isn’t the place for you.”
“This isn’t the place for anyone, Liam.” She traced a blue fleck of light on my arm, and I thrilled at the simple touch. I needed to tell her the truth despite my body’s insistence otherwise.
“Why didn’t they just bury him? Why burn him like that?” she asked.
She traced a different fleck of light higher up my arm, making it difficult to speak. “It’s just how we do it.”
“It’s gross and wrong. He should be buried since the ground isn’t frozen.”
I stilled her hand. “It is not wrong. The spirit has long departed. It makes little difference whether the body left behind becomes food for the worm or ashes on the waves.”
She said nothing for a long time, then took several deep breaths before speaking. “Why did you say ‘good’ when I told you I hadn’t planned on staying? Do you want me to leave?”
She stared straight ahead at a grim painting of what appeared to be one of Dante’s circles of hell.
“What I want is irrelevant at this point. What’s important is that I haven’t been completely forthcoming about what happened at Francine’s last night.”
She shifted to face me. The strokes of color across her flawless pale skin took my breath away. “You’re talking about the angel that turned into a . . . whatever that was.”
“The Cailleach.” This was it. In keeping her safe, I was ensuring my loss of the one thing I loved the most. I took a deep breath. “It brings death to those who see it.”
“I don’t feel dead,” she said with a smirk.
“I don’t mean immediately. It’s a warning, Anna, an omen. You need to get off this island as soon a
s you can before it comes true. You saw it. No one sees it and lives.”
She placed her hands on either side of my neck and the tension melted from my shoulders. “Listen to me, Liam. I’m not buying it. I don’t believe in prophecies, omens, fortunes, palm readers, psychics, or creepy crones predicting death. I’ve never lived my life in fear. I won’t begin living that way now.”
“But—” She silenced me by placing a finger over my lips.
“Granted. Freaky things happen on this island. What you’re telling me may be true, but I’m not going to run away because of a story.”
“I’m begging you to leave, Anna,” I pleaded. “Please go.”
“You want me to leave?” She got on her knees, face only inches from mine. “Is that what you really want?” I nodded. She moved so close, our noses touched and her breath tickled my lips. “Really?” She pressed her cheek against mine and whispered in my ear, causing chills to race down my spine. “Because I don’t believe you.”
“Anna, please.”
She caught my earlobe between her teeth and released it. “I can’t leave,” she whispered. “It’s not possible.” She trailed kisses down the side of my neck and I groaned. Her lips tightened into a smile against my skin. “I’ve found the best thing ever, and you expect me to just take off because of some bogus fairy tale?”
I was certain my heart would stop any second. I wanted to object, to beg her to listen, but I could only sit still, mesm
erized by her touch.
“It’s not going to happen, Liam. I’m not dying and I’m not leaving.” She pulled away and stared into my eyes. “I didn’t make up what I said on the jetty. I’m not going anywhere, so you’re just going to have to deal with it.”
As if under a spell, I could only stare in wonder at this beautiful creature. The light from the window reflected off her sleek ebony hair and flitted across her alabaster skin. The only sound was my uneven breath as I fought to control my desire.
“This is the part where you kiss me,” she said.
Without hesitation I obliged.
18
Though I turn, I fly not—
I cannot depart;
I would try, but try not
To release my heart
And my hopes are dying
While, on dreams relying,
I am spelled by art.
—Edgar Allan Poe,
from “To Miss Louise Olivia Hunter,” 1847
To my surprise, Francine didn’t push or interrogate me when I finally arrived at the store that afternoon. She did, however, linger nearby pretending to be busy, undoubt. Frantedly with the hope I would volunteer information.
“The supply boat’s not coming today after all,” Francine said, putting the phone headset back in the cradle. “There’s been foul weather on the mainland coast.”
I squeezed the water out of the mop and moved to the section of floor closest to the cash register.
“That means we need to transfer the lobsters from the holding crates to the underwater pen.” Francine sighed. “I was hoping it would be a lazy day so we could visit over some tea.”
Her blatant nudge made me smile. I rinsed the mop and put it in the wringer attached to the inside of the bucket.
“I certainly hope the storm doesn’t come this way and ruin the Bealtaine celebration tonight,” she said.
I had lashed an extra two feet of dowel to the mop so that I could tuck it under my armpit for leverage and guide it with my hand and forearm, which made it easier, but it was still difficult for me. Balancing the mop handle on my shoulder, I pushed down on the wringer handle and gray water cascaded into the bucket.
Francine shuffled to the area I’d just mopped. “You are going to the celebration, right?”
I straightened and pulled the mop out. “I suppose.”
“Well, you need to take the Leighton girl so you can ask for a blessing on your union.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Union?” I turned my back to her and ran the mop down the floor under the counter.
Francine blocked my progress. “Okay, Liam. Union, relationship, or whatever you two are doing, you can ask the Otherworlders to bless it.”
“Whatever we are doing is blessed. We don’t need Otherworlders to make it so.”
I swiveled and pushed the mop in the other direction. Francine stomped around me and stepped on the soggy cords. “Best you do all you can to make good with them.”
“Make good with them? There is nothing good in it. My entire life has been misery because of them, or rather because of the villagers’ belief in them.” I sloshed the mop into the water, surprised at my level of resentment. Ordinarily, I tempered my thoughts and feelings about Dòchas and my place in it because fighting it was as futile as attempting to stop the incoming tide. At this moment, though, nothing was tempered. I practically boiled with indignation. All my life I’d been pushed down, denied, and shunned because of things over which I had no control. Seeing the Cailleach had brought all the unfairness of my life home to me. Perhaps Anna was right and it was all “bogus.” I dumped the mop back in the wringer. “I’ll never ask them for anything. Ever.”
Francine pulled the mop handle from my hand and let it fall to the floor. “Liam, lad.” She took me by the shoulders. “Listen to me.” She gave my shoulders a slight shake. “Do not anger them. You need them on your side.”
“No one is on my side!” I shouted. “No one but you and Anna. Don’t you see? Everything works against me, especially the Otherworlders. They scream at me at night. They taunt me from the sea. My own people want to kill me because of the things they do. Yet, you want me to ask them for a blessing on the only thing that has ever been right in my entire pathetic existence?”
Hands still gripping my shoulders, she stared into my eyes for what felt like an eternity. “Yes, I do.”
Out si">< of breath from my rant, I leaned against the counter, and something that sounded much like a whimper issued from my throat. I closed my eyes and gathered my composure. Francine was far older and wiser. She knew much more about the Otherworlders than I. What harm could it do?
“We’ll set candles on the water and ask for their blessing,” I whispered.
She patted my cheek. “That’s a smart lad.”
* * *
A sense of dread had been niggling at Muireann since before sunup. Perhaps it was because of the death of the human yesterday. Maybe it was because she knew the Na Fir Ghorm would derive power from the human worship tonight. Whatever the reason, she didn’t share her pod’s enthusiasm for the activities onshore.
“Will you look at that!” her sister, Keela, said. “The bonfire will be even bigger than last year!”
All day, the villagers had been combing the island for fallen wood to make the Bealtaine fires. They did this at the turn of the season every year.
Muireann swam from behind the harbor buoy to get a closer look. She had seen her human walking on the cliff-side trail several hours ago on his way from the big dwelling at the high point of the island. He had not stopped at his home, but he wasn’t helping with the bonfire preparation. She slipped behind a moored boat and peeked around the bow.
“Looking for someone?” her sister said, nudging her shoulder.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“You’re so jumpy. What’s wrong?”
Muireann slipped under the surface and glided into the shadows under the dock. She knew Keela would follow, but it gave her time to come up with an answer that would suit.
The Na Fir Ghorm were an everyday part of life for her pod. In the old country, they didn’t interact much, as the Na Fir Ghorm stayed in caves deeper out in the sea and inhabited the straits and more remote areas. Here, they lived close in to shore among the Selkies.
Until now, the Na Fir Ghorm were not an issue for Muireann because they didn’t affect her directly. She’d never had trouble adopting the Selkies’ “live and let live” attitude. Her feelings for her human had changed
everything. She could no longer remain impassive as they took human lives for their entertainment and enrichment.
There he was! Her human was dropping lobsters from plastic boxes into a wire pen in the water at the end of the pier. Her pulse quickened at the mere sight of him.
“He’s quite beautiful,” Keela said. “Too beautiful, really.”
Yes, too beautiful, Muireann thought. This was the closest she’d ever been to him.
“He makes you want to change, doesn’t he?”
“Yes,” Muireann whispered.
“Listen to me, little sister,” Keela said. “Father says human males are good for nothing but pain. They steal your heart, then they steal your pelt, leaving you in human form to die an early, miserable death, never to see your family again.”
Muireann couldn’t imagine her human being cruel. She’d heard the stories of humans hiding or stealing their Selkie lovers’ pelts in order to keep them in human form. “He’s not like that.”
Keela gave a loud snort and duckenoreir Selkied under the surface.
Her human looked over his shoulder straight into her eyes, and she melted inside.
“Hello, there,” he said.
He was talking to her! She was too stunned to even move. She kept her head above water—a huge no-no when this close to a human—and simply stared back. His eyes were deep brown and rimmed with thick, black lashes. If only . . .
He leaned down to get a better look under the dock where she hid. Everything in her told her to flee, but she could not. She was frozen, mesmerized by his beauty.
“How’s it going out here?” a middle-aged woman with graying red hair asked him.
He placed a finger to his lips. The woman nodded and joined him. “Ah. A Selkie girl,” she said. Muireann knew she should swim away as fast as possible but could not budge.
“Do not encourage her, Liam. She’ll only bring you trouble.”
Liam! His name was Liam. Muireann rejoiced at this bit of information. Her human had a name as beautiful as his face. It was worth the danger of being this close just to know his name. Liam, she said over and over in her head. My Liam.
