“I’d like to see ye again, if that’d be okay with ye.”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
He gently touched her cheek and slid his hand around to the nape of her neck. He pulled her forward and kissed her.
“Would you like to come in,” she said, “for a drink?”
“I’d love to, but I have to say no. I’ve a business meetin’ early tomorrow,” he replied. “A rain check, perhaps?”
She smiled. “Okay.”
“Very well. I’ll call on ye soon,” he said. “Again, thank you, Kylie. I’ll not forget this eve.” He kissed her again and walked back to his car.
She watched him from the front step. A flit of feeling on her hand made her look at it. The bandage came off on one side and she pulled it back. The cut had healed completely.
“How in the . . . . Is that possible?” She looked up, and Cianán started the car. Did you somehow heal my hand? He backed onto the street and waved as he drove away.
She sighed heavily at the idea of walking into a nearly empty house. “Sometimes I just hate being alone.” She opened the door and walked inside.
“Oh, you won’t be tonight,” Grant whispered from the concealment of the shadows. He watched Cianán drive away.
Grant stood in the darkness later that night, and watched Kylie through the French door windows as she slept. He carefully studied her breathing and movements. The white beast in the corner of the room watched him for a bit and reluctantly fell to sleep after he motioned for her to put her head down.
He stared in awe of Kylie’s resemblance to the woman he once loved long ago. She slowly turned, and the moonlight gently caressed her face. For a brief moment, he believed she was his lost love and stepped forward. But the barrier wouldn’t let him pass without invitation. God, how he wanted to sit on the edge of the bed and gently caress her cheek. To kiss her. Taste her.
She drew in a deep breath and let out a small sigh. She rolled over, exposing her bare back and the small dragon tattoo on the lower part of it.
Staring at Kylie, he was reminded of a day long ago. The day he met his love.
* * * * *
1402 A.D., Ireland
A beautiful summer afternoon, and everyone in town attended Grantlund’s good friend Aengus’ wedding. He’d stood next to Aengus during the ceremony when he first saw her . . . and the mere sight of her took his breath away. She was an angel in his eyes. He couldn’t recall the last time a woman made him feel that way. Perhaps never.
He’d waited for the right one to come along, taking the chance he’d never meet her and grow old alone. It was his thirty-fourth year. His friends already called him “old man,” teasing him about the fact he’d never married when they had small children running around.
After the ceremony, he tried to find her and looked everywhere. He was about to give up hope of ever seeing her again and, like a vision, she appeared before him. The crowd separated and there she stood. The gentle breeze softly played with her gown, giving the impression of wings on her back.
An angel.
He drew in a deep breath, swallowed his heart, and walked over to ask her to dance.
“Ye dance well, my lord,” she said.
They made their way around the floor.
“Thank you, my lady.” He smiled warmly. “But dare I say it’s you who gifts me with such grace.”
She blushed, lowered her head a moment, and slowly looked up to meet his ice blue eyes. “Go raibh maith ‘ad, my lord.”
“You’re very welcome,” he said, and the music stopped. He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “‘Twas a pleasure dancing with ye, my lady.”
She curtsied.
“Would ye care for some refreshment?” He didn’t want this beautiful woman to slip through his fingers.
“Aye,” she said, and he led her away.
They chatted and shared laughs. He told her some of his fondest memories and stories. He also revealed to her that he was an artist.
“Oh no, I don’t think my da would care for ye much, my lord.”
“Why would ye say such things?”
“He’d say you ‘ave no future. You’re a dreamer, an’ he’s told me to stay away from men such as ye.”
He laughed. “What’s wrong with a little dreamin’? If it were not for dreams, no one’d venture out into the world. It’s a dreamer who takes that first step, to start a new life. These cottages would ne’er ‘ave been built” —he waved his hand around, showing her the homes— “and the castles; that kind of structure takes an imagination, does it not?”
“Aye, I s’pose it does.”
He smiled at her again and leaned forward. “Then I shall just have to convince your da I’m worthy.”
She giggled. “That will not be easy, my lord.” Her brothers approached. “I hope you’re up for the task.”
“Siobhán,” the largest of them said. “Da wants us home . . . now.”
The hostility in his glare didn’t faze Grantlund, but he wondered about the reason for it.
“Why, Fergus?”
“I didn’ ask an’ neither should ye. He told me to come an’ get ye.”
“I apologize, but I must go now,” she said, turning to Grant again. “Thank you for your company, Grantlund. I enjoyed it.”
“As did I. Shall I see ye again?”
She smiled. “I hope so.” And her two brothers whisked her away.
Fergus, he hadn’t met before, but John, he knew of. He’d be damned if he’d known the man had such a beautiful sister.
He sighed deeply. “Again, thank you for the dance,” he said softly and walked to rejoin the reception.
* * * * *
Present day, Phoenix, Arizona
Back then, he didn’t understand Fergus’ expression was a warning. Her beauty and his love for her blinded him. The sad fact was, Siobhán’s father promised her to Cianán, and they lived well because of it; otherwise, they were mere farm laborers. By the time Grant understood, however, it was too late. He’d become vampyr, and Siobhán would soon be dead.
He shook his head slowly and stared at the flagstone beneath his feet. How he remembered dancing with her. She moved so gracefully, much like Kylie did.
He looked to Kylie again as she slept, then up to the quarter moon. Perhaps he should leave. He found it very difficult to tear himself away, but it was too dangerous for him to stay. By staying, he risked the chance of frightening her if she awoke to see him watching through the window. He’d certainly lose her then.
Grant watched Ana’s jewelry store from across the street, and listened carefully to the thoughts running through her mind.
“My word, you certainly are beautiful,” Ana said to the locket, attempting to open it. “Come on.” She tried to pry it open without damaging it—not an easy chore. Grant knew it wasn’t possible. She’d tried everything, even resorting to some of the old techniques she’d learned throughout her education. Techniques she barely remembered because her instructor assured the class they’d most likely not be used in today’s jewelry stores. Grant chuckled at her thoughts.
Sighing in defeat, she set the locket down on the table, convinced it would never open again. That was, if it was supposed to open in the first place.
“Fine, you win,” she said and swung her chair around to the computer.
Now he knew exactly where the locket was. Grant was thankful he hadn’t figured it out the other day. He wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting Kylie. He felt he’d been waiting all of his life for that moment, of realizing Siobhán was to be only a glimpse of the woman he was intended to meet. The woman Cianán had searched for throughout the ages.
At first, all he wanted was the locket because it belonged to Siobhán, and it should belong to him. But now . . . well, things had a funny way of changing.
The door opened, sounding the bell, and Ana looked up. The lock of hair she’d been twisting sprung back into place.
“Hi! How was dinner?” She bounced i
n her seat. “Don’t keep me in suspense. What happened? Where did he take you?”
“Time’s Cellar, and you know, I’d love to sit here and tell you all about it, but I have an appointment . . . and a lunch date,” Kylie said.
“A lunch date? With Cianán?”
“No, with Grant.”
“Grant? Wait a minute . . . .” Ana stood and walked around the counter, hands on her hips. “Who’s Grant?”
“That guy I told you about yesterday who bought the bizarre painting. You know, the guy you only saw the back of the other day.” Kylie arched a brow.
“You’re having lunch with him? Oh, girl . . . .”
“Yeah, yeah. I need my necklace back. I’d like to wear it today. Are you done with it?”
“Not really, and you shouldn’t wear it too much. It is an antique, you know.” She picked it up and walked over to her.
“I know, but I have to today for some reason. I don’t know why.” Kylie leaned over the counter and rested her elbows on the glass. “So, what did you find out about it?”
“You didn’t give me much time, but it’s about four hundred years old, maybe older; I can’t be sure without studying it more and a few of the labs haven’t come back yet. It’s extremely rare, though. I can’t find anything else like it. Here, I want to show you something.” She pointed out the hinges on it. “It’s a locket, right?”
Kylie grinned at her.
“Don’t look at me like that, smartass. I can’t figure out why it won’t open. Lockets are supposed to open. Maybe it’s because the piece is so old, but I don’t think that’s it at all. The damn thing looks brand new.” She handed it to her.
“Four hundred years old, huh? Wow.” Kylie studied it carefully. “Hmm, maybe….” She fiddled with the locket.
“Okay, so the symbol is ancient, though I’m not sure what deity it represents, if one at all. The garnet, I’ve no clue as to why it’s embedded there.”
Kylie frowned. She really wanted to know what her birthmark meant.
“Try searching for it on the net. You can start with Celtic symbols”
Kylie scowled. “You know computers hate me.”
“I just thought you could do some research on your own, but don’t worry your little red head, my computer is searching as we speak.”
“Thank God.” The locket sprung open. “Hey, would you look at that?”
“How’d you do that? I’ve tried everything.”
“I don’t know.” A red drop slipped from the locket and touched her finger. “What’s this?”
“Looks like blood,” Ana said.
Kylie brought the finger with the drop closer and smelled it. “Doesn’t smell like anything.” She stuck her tongue out.
“Eww. You are not going to taste that, are you?”
Kylie shrugged. “It’s probably mine anyway. I mean, it couldn’t have been in here for so long and not be dried out by now.” She flicked out her tongue and caught the drop.
“Oh, that’s disgusting.”
Kylie rolled her eyes and studied the locket. “What, you don’t suck on your finger when you get a cut?”
Ana wrinkled her nose. “That’s different.”
“Check out this funky wording.” She handed the necklace over to Ana.
“Let me see.” Ana reached over and grabbed her Jeweler’s Loop. “I don’t recognize it. God, this could be much older than I thought.”
“Really? Let me see that.” She took the locket and eyepiece from her to magnify the words. She shrugged. “It looks a little familiar, but I’m not sure what the language is. Maybe Gaelic.” She handed the loop back to Ana and looked at her watch. “Oh God, I have to go. He’ll be here any minute. Yesterday he was really early and I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Girl, you’d better be prepared to tell me everything.” Ana smiled at Kylie.
“We’ll have a nice girl chat on Monday.” Kylie put the necklace on. “How does it look?”
“It’s definitely you.”
“Gotta go.” She kissed Ana on the cheek and hugged her. “Thanks for checking it out for me. I’ll see you Monday.”
Ana leaned over the counter. “Have fun!”
* * * * *
Kylie walked up to greet a once-again-early Grant. The shining silver locket she wore caught his eye and nearly stole his breath for the piece he hadn’t seen in more than five centuries. He withheld his elation as best he could and met her eyes. He’d wait until they were sitting down to lunch to find out more, like how she came to own the piece.
Once situated at the table, he picked up on a familiar scent about her; one not her own. In fact, it smelled a touch like him. He wasn’t sure how it’d be possible. They hadn’t touched other than the slight brush of hands the day before.
“Is that a family heirloom?” The garnet brightened when he spoke, knowing his voice, which proved to him it was the one he searched for all these years.
“What, the necklace?” She moved her hand over it and picked up the locket. “Yes, it is. I just got it the other day.” She took it off to show it to him, and opened it.
The locket opening for her surprised him at first. It was meant to only open for him. He wondered if it was because she was related to Siobhán somehow, though Siobhán could never open the locket. She’d tried several times, even after his death.
Still didn’t explain the scent of him on her. Until he noticed his blood was missing from the locket. He swallowed his heart in panic. Where did it go? He’d placed it there just before Siobhán died—part of a protection spell. Blood made the spell stronger. It was the first and last time he’d performed blood magic.
Kylie pointed out the engraving to him. “I’m not sure what language this is, although it looks familiar.”
He took it from her—already knowing what it was beforehand—and pretended to look at it. “It’s Gaelic.”
“That’s what I thought. I haven’t seen the language since I was a little girl.”
He smiled. “Would you like to know what it says?”
“Yes, please, if you can.”
“Well, I might be a little rusty, but I’ll do my best at the translation.” He fiddled with the chain, squinted—though he didn’t need to—and read the words in silence first. It’d been a long time since he’d last seen the promise.
“It says . . . ‘To you,’ and this word, ‘Dia’ is ‘God’. Something about not being separated or the like. It looks like this last part says ‘I love you’. I think it’s part of an old wedding vow. The Scots used one similar.”
He looked up at her, and she stared in awe.
She blinked. “Wow. Where’d you learn Gaelic? It’s not a very common language.”
“My family is from Ireland, the western coast where they still speak the language, but I haven’t heard it in a very long time.”
“Is it pretty there?”
He smiled. She’s thinking about him. He caught Cianán’s name drift through her mind. What does he want with her? “Yes, the entire island is beautiful. I think you’d like it.”
“I’m sure I would . . . .” She took a bite of her baked potato, but seemed distracted, playing with the food more than anything. “I’d like to go there soon, at least to see where my family is from. I mean, I know where they’re from, but I’d like to see it with my own eyes instead of through pictures. And I’d like to learn more about them. My grandpa arrived here when he was about eighteen or so, and I never really got to learn much from him. He died when I was seven and my mom and dad died thirteen years ago. I just have bits and pieces of what they told me when I was a child.” She gasped and placed her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. That was too much information, wasn’t it?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry to hear of your loss.” He studied her face. “You do have other family, don’t you?”
“Not unless you count my best friend Ana and her family.” She picked at her sandwich.
“I’m
sorry, is this making you uncomfortable?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m the one who started chattering away. Can’t help it sometimes. The question is, am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Not at all. If you want to talk about it, it’s perfectly fine with me,” he said. “It helps me get to know you better.”
“Maybe we can continue it some other time. I wouldn’t want to get all teary-eyed on our first date.”
He agreed with a nod. He caught the horror in her eyes with the latter part of that sentence. A nice Freudian slip. Good to hear. He wondered when the next ‘date’ would be. His mind drifted back to when she mentioned going to Ireland, and figured the subject change might help her relax.
“So, when do you think you might be going?”
She frowned. “Where?”
He chuckled. “To Ireland?”
“I’m not sure. It was just a thought, why?”
“I have to go back to take care of some business next week. If you decide to go while I’m there, I can show you around.” His face lit up with a smile. “Be your tour guide. There are some wonderful bed and breakfasts near my home.”
“So do you live there?”
“Yes and no. I have a homestead there, but I’ve been here for quite some time.”
“Oh.” The gold flecks in her emerald eyes glinted in the sunlight. “Well, it’d be fun, that’s for sure.”
“Yes, it would.”
“I haven’t really traveled anywhere in a long time.”
Their conversation subsided. Grant’s thoughts remained on her and he picked at his salad. He was fairly certain he could tell her anything she wanted to know about her family. He wondered exactly how she might be related to Siobhán. He’d followed the locket here because he felt it move from its resting-place in the cunning women’s cellar, but he didn’t even think to check if the person it was sent to had the same last name. He just knew where it was heading—the country and state. As far as he knew, the old woman was the last of the bloodline and the locket was to be given to him when she died.
She must have birthed and raised a son while I was in Italy. That would be Kylie’s grandfather. He wondered why she kept it from him. To a vampyre, time passes by faster. He was in Italy long enough for something like that to happen, though it only seemed the equivalence of a few years. He recalled leaving when she was a young woman, but by the time he returned, she’d grown much older. She must have been close to one hundred years old when she passed.
The Dracove (The Prophecy series) Page 7
