He nodded stoically and asked, “What do I do?”
She couldn’t help the bubble of excitement. “Yours,” she said, “is the kiss of life.”
“My what?”
“Your gift.”
“I have a gift?”
“Yes. The kiss of life.”
Arwyn moved toward Searly. He lifted his arm, tucking her securely against him. Her eyes were red and puffy, as were Searly’s. They comforted one another and Lochlan realized a new friendship had been forged. He would have smiled had his eyes not strayed back to Elin lying limp in his arms.
His mother knew this. She sensed it. She may have only gotten to hold him once, but she was his mother, and mothers had instinctual knowledge about their children.
“What if it doesn’t work?” Lochlan asked.
His mother wanted to comfort him, to embrace him, put away all his fears. With a careful hand, she gently touched his back. He flinched, and then he relaxed. Touch would be something he would have to get used to.
“It will work,” she promised.
He gazed at Elin’s angelic face, gently tucked her hair behind an ear that had grown pointed, and let his fingers glide over her jaw. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. Without further ado, he bent his head and gently pressed his lips to hers.
He did not breathe. He did not move. He hovered over her mouth and waited. And waited. And waited.
When Elin opened her eyes, eyes the color of spun silver, he smiled a watery smile and whispered, “Acushla.”
Lochlan fiddled with the wooden owl he kept inside his pocket, his attention split between listening to the hushed voices of Elin and Arwyn, and gazing at the moon that, even now, called to him like a siren.
They had left Shadowland behind, left Faery behind. For now, at least. He had brought everyone back to Mirova, including Arwyn, who had to be persuaded to come. She hadn’t wanted to leave because…well, because she was worried. When Zeph left them after believing Elin had well and truly died, he hadn’t come back, and they didn’t know where to find him. Lochlan hadn’t quite known how to feel about that. For now, he would push that worry aside and concentrate on things he did know about.
Like how he felt for Elin.
They hadn’t had any time alone. He may have brought her back to life, but it had taken some time for her to fully regain consciousness. She had slept throughout their journey to the human realm, Lochlan carrying her the whole way while the Cait Sidhe led them through the shadow roads. After they’d arrived, Lochlan had brought her to the manor, where she continued to sleep. For two days, seven hours, and twenty-six minutes. Lochlan had stayed by her side, afraid to look away for even a moment. Once again, life had proven to be fragile, and Lochlan had to fight to stay upright, to not crumble. She would need him whole when she woke, so he vowed to be solid as a fortress for her, even if he felt as brittle as old bones.
Searly, his mother, and Arwyn had stayed by her side as well until she had awoken, and when she finally roused, Elin had many questions. They filled her in on the events that took place, how Lochlan (and Zeph) broke the curse, how he’d saved her, how she had saved Zeph, how Zeph had saved Arwyn, and all the parts thereafter.
Now, Arwyn and Elin were saying their goodbyes, though not the forever kind. Searly was merely taking Arwyn back to the monastery with him. Lochlan didn’t know much about the Elf girl, but he sensed she needed a quiet place to reflect and figure out where to go from here. He couldn’t think of a better place to gain a bit of equilibrium than with Searly. He had told her as much, in fact, when Arwyn had put up resistance to the idea, fearing she would be a bother. Searly and the other monks lived to care for others. There could be no better place for her. Admittedly, Lochlan had been relieved when Arwyn reluctantly agreed. She had been a friend to the two people he cared most about. If she hadn’t gone with Searly, Lochlan would have insisted she stay at the manor. Either way, the Elf would be looked after.
“Does the moon still shine red for you, my friend?”
When Searly walked up behind him, Lochlan had still been staring up at the tenebrous, starless sky, at the moon that hung high overhead.
He frowned and forced his eyes away from the seductive mistress that had always beckoned him. “I had hoped…” Lochlan paused. “I had always wanted to see the moon glow like a pearl against Heaven’s breast. It doesn’t. It still shines red, like the eye of the devil.” Lochlan turned toward his friend, his cloak pulled over his head as if he were hiding from the beast in the sky. “Why? The curse is broken. Why does it still shine red?”
Searly took his time to consider the question. The night was quiet, and if Lochlan listened intently enough, he might have heard Searly’s thoughts. Prickles of unease danced over skin that felt too tight. Why must the moon continue to taunt him?
“Moses spoke to a burning bush,” Searly said, his voice soft, almost a whisper.
“Pardon?” Lochlan asked.
Searly’s eyes skirted the tops of trees until they came to rest on the moon. Lochlan followed Searly’s gaze and they watched the moon weave in and out of ribbons of black clouds.
“People would think me mad if I said I had spoken to a burning bush,” Searly continued. “Yet it is written that God spoke to Moses in this manner. Who is to say that God hasn’t been speaking to you through the moon all this time?”
Lochlan dared to look at his friend. “Pardon?” he said again.
A tiny smile toyed with Searly’s mouth. “I cannot count the number of times I’ve caught you gazing upon it. You’ve admitted it calls to you, lures you.” Searly tilted his head in thought. “What if the moon is your burning bush?”
Lochlan fought the urge to laugh. “You cannot honestly believe that.”
Searly looked at Lochlan pointedly. “Stranger things have happened. You see a moon no one else sees. It is more than a moon to you. We both thought the red glow of the moon was a sign of your curse. Your curse is no more, yet the moon hasn’t changed. Therefore, we have to think the moon is a sign of something more. Something significantly more.”
“Like what?”
“In light of all that I have seen and witnessed,” Searly grinned, “it would not be too far out of reach to think, perhaps, instead of the eye of the devil, what you have been seeing is the heart of our Lord.” Searly pinned Lochlan with his rich brown eyes. “Maybe our Lord has been telling you all these years that He is present, that He has not forgotten you, and that all you need to do is look up, for He is always watching over you.”
Searly nodded to himself. “That is why you have always been lured by it…why you can never seem to take your eyes from it. The moon speaks to you.” Searly’s eyes drifted upward again, as though he too was now lured by the red glow. “Whether you choose to believe that is up to you, but it is what I choose to believe.” Searly stretched his hand out between them and instinct had Lochlan shrinking back. Stepping toward him, Searly said, “Do me this honor, Lochlan, and shake my hand, because I have always wanted to shake yours.”
Lochlan tentatively reached out and let his hand slip into Searly’s palm. For the first time in all their years of friendship, Lochlan felt Searly’s skin, his calluses, and yes, he even felt his love, in a handshake.
Overwhelmed at the sensation, Lochlan trembled. “I never thanked you,” he said, feeling warmth suffuse the whole of his hand. “For always being there for me. I never said thank you.”
Searly, never taking his eyes off his friend said, “You never had to.”
Light footfalls fell behind them, bringing the two men’s attention to the lilting voice who said, “It is time for me to go.”
Searly looked at Lochlan with understanding, knowing how painful this moment would be for him. “I’ll retrieve Arwyn so you two can talk and then we’ll be on our way.”
Lochlan turned his eyes back to the owl/wom–his mother–and had to keep himself planted where he stood, for he felt the urge to grab the hem of her skirts and plead like a littl
e boy for her to stay. He had only just gotten her back. He wasn’t ready for her to leave.
“Go?” he asked. “Go where?” He tilted his head toward the manor. “This is your home too.”
She moved toward him, floating like silk on a breeze. “I cannot stay.” Her mouth dipped into a frown and then she carefully lifted it back into place. Hurt and sadness shadowed the corners of her golden eyes. “It was an agreement I made to allow me to come.” She smiled softly. “To be your guide.”
Lochlan closed his eyes, his throat swelling, making it hard to swallow. “I don’t want you to go.” He felt the gentle press of her hand against his shoulder. Such an innocuous thing, touch, but for Lochlan it felt dangerous. He’d spent his life avoiding it like most people avoided fire. It almost burned the way her fingers warmed his skin through the fabric of his clothing. He took a fortifying breath and steeled himself from flinching, and in a tremulous voice, he repeated, “I don’t want you to go.”
“I know. Seems a bit unfair, doesn’t it? I had hoped…” She paused, her voice a cadence of highs and lows, of sad and happy, “…I had hoped for more time. However, I am eternally grateful for the time we had. It has been a gift. A beautiful and tragic gift, but a gift all the same.”
Something sharp pierced Lochlan’s heart, and the oozing of loss ran through his veins. Again, he wanted to clutch at her skirts and beg for her to remain with him. He nodded, more to himself than to her. He couldn’t argue. Her time with him had been a beautiful gift, though he was feeling the tragedy of it now.
He couldn’t face her, couldn’t let her see how he was rolling in deep, treacherous waters, being tossed about like a tiny boat on a swelling, angry sea.
“Don’t do that,” his mother said.
“Do what?” he asked.
“Hide your pain from me. Do you know how I yearn to see all the many facets that make up the man you are? Pain is a complex dynamic of living. Without it, we could not possibly appreciate all the joys of what makes living precious. We have to take the good with the bad, for we are all a complex dynamic of both.” She eased closer to him, finding his cheek with the soft skin of her hand. “Do not hide your pain from me, and I will not hide mine from you,” she said, her chin trembling ever so slightly.
Lochlan nodded, finding it hard to speak.
“I love you,” she said. “More than my own life, I love you.”
A cry broke from somewhere deep within his soul, the wounded, lost boy inside him demanding the affections of a mother he’d only dreamt about. “I love you too.” He turned in a rush and hugged her, holding on as tightly as he could before feeling like he held her too tightly. He loosened his arms, but only just. The need to hug her overwhelmed him, so he held on as long as he was allowed. “Will I ever see you again?”
“Yes. This is not goodbye. It is a mere farewell until we meet again. I promise.” She pulled back enough to see his face, so he could see hers. “I always keep my promises.”
He managed to swallow the burn in his throat. “Thank you.”
For everything.
She kissed his cheek, her eyes glistening. “You were worth every sacrifice I ever made. I have no regrets. Not one.” Her smile wobbled and she let him see it, the pain her sacrifice caused her. Pain she would willingly suffer again and again, for him.
A tear slipped down his cheek. “No regrets.”
She stepped away, her golden eyes wet with tears. “Now go to her, my precious boy. And be happy. I cannot think of anyone more deserving.”
On a pair of beautiful white wings, she flew away, kicking up a light breeze that fluttered across his face. He thought he heard the words, “And be well, my darling. Be well.”
She was sitting on a felled tree by the creek’s bed. The same felled tree where she and Lochlan had once sat together. He inched his way toward her, one step at a time, feeling heavily burdened, grief clinging to him like a second skin, already missing his mum. Everyone had gone, and he’d discovered he rather liked having the company of others. So much of his life had been spent alone and now his heart ached for family. However, he couldn’t deny the jubilation he felt the closer he drew to Elin, alongside the nervousness that rattled around inside of him.
Sensing his approach, she turned his way. Their eyes met and his feet swayed beneath him, his breath catching on an exhale. She straightened; he stilled. For a long moment they stared, caught up in the other’s unwavering hold.
Dathúil was the word his mind conjured. A pleasure to the eyes.
Before, her hair had been bronze silk, her eyes gray. Now her hair was silky metallic, though her eyes still reminded him of silvery probes that pierced his soul, cutting like knives, wounding him from the inside out.
Her soft pink lips curved upward, slowly, and curled prettily into a smile. His heart thudded in his chest, his blood rushed to his ears, and this time his heart pounded a rhythm he recognized.
He seated himself beside her and they listened to the sounds of the trickling water, and the crackle of the fire she had made.
“So your mother…” she said softly. “She was the owl in the forest that day. The one who saved me from touching you.”
It was more of an acknowledgment than a question.
“My mother apparently likes to make an impression.”
Elin laughed, sounding like a choir of angels. “That she does.” Her laugh faded and gentleness caressed her face. She knew better than anyone what it was like to have to say goodbye to your mother. “Are you all right?” she asked.
He looked away from her sympathetic eyes and stood, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, toying with the wooden owl he kept there. “I will be.”
The moment stretched into an uncomfortable silence, neither one knowing quite what to say. The fire hissed while shadows danced in the firelight. Elin had been torn emotionally over her brother and Lochlan didn’t have the words to comfort her. His feelings about Zeph were largely unsettled, as were hers. Understandably so. Still, she grieved him, mourned him, nevertheless, and Lochlan ached to ease her troubles, wishing he had thought to ask his mother what he should say on the subject.
“Do you think he’ll come back?” she asked, breaking the silence.
Lochlan shook his head, knowing who she meant. “I wish I knew, for your sake.” He glanced over his shoulder, finding her staring off into the fire. “Do you want him to?”
Her face was a warm glow and he couldn’t help staring. Love was like that, he now knew. Once you found it, it was impossible to look anywhere else.
Still eyeing the dancing flames, she said, “I think I need him to. I have no closure. We never had the chance to–”
“I understand,” Lochlan said.
“And Arwyn,” Elin continued. “She needs…” Her fists curled in her lap. “I feel so badly for her. Whatever Zeph was to me, he was something else to her.”
Lochlan did not know the entirety of Zeph and Arwyn’s story. He doubted anyone did. Yet the Elf must have seen something worthy in Zeph. How else could her pain, obvious to anyone paying attention, be explained?
Lochlan angled his head toward the moon, that constant pull tugging him like they were connected by an invisible thread. Recalling Searly’s words, he tried to see its lure in a different light.
The moon speaks to you.
Closing his eyes, he tried to listen, although the only thing he could hear was Elin’s soft sniffles. He sighed and bowed his head.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“If I knew where to find him, I would go hunt him down and drag his arse back here and let you and Arwyn do and say whatever you needed to.”
Elin chuckled, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. “I bet you would.”
He winked. “Indeed I would.”
The silence between them descended once more, only this time they didn’t look away from each other. She held up one hand and placed it over her heart. His hands trembled inside his pockets. She
inhaled; he exhaled. She lowered her hand, stood, and walked toward him. He placed his hand around the wooden owl and pulled it out to give to her.
“I kept it,” he said. “Waiting for the day I could give it back to you.”
He wasn’t touching her, yet, but he could feel her. Deep in his bones, he could feel her. He ached so passionately to touch her, though he would wait. He wouldn’t rush.
“Thank you.” She held out an open palm. A slight breeze played with her hair like ghostly children, gently moving it around her face.
He placed the owl figurine in her hand, carefully, out of habit. She closed her fingers around it, staring up at him with eyes that told all her secrets. He captured every one of them. In return, he gave her all of his. Their hearts spoke in whispers, quiet stories meant for no other. It occurred to him that five hundred years had not prepared him for this. For her.
“I’m in love with you,” she breathed.
He very nearly fell to his knees.
“I have no idea how I feel about anything else. I can’t even comprehend most of what has happened. The only thing that has remained constant, that I know for sure, is that I’m in love with you. That is all I know.”
Lochlan held still, her words a balm to his aching, lonely heart.
“I don’t know what I want more,” she said. “For you to touch me or for me to touch you.”
“Isn’t it the same thing?” he asked, his voice uneven and unusually high.
“Is it?”
“I don’t know.”
She stepped closer, a handbreadth between them, creating miniature sparks that made his body sing.
“Show me,” she said.
“Show you what?” he asked, watching the pulse in her neck thump. Slowly, his right hand began to rise. She followed it with glittering eyes. His thumb pressed against her thumping pulse, and carefully caressed it as his fingers found passage around the nape of her neck. She gasped. Again, he asked thickly, his own pulse thumping erratically, “Show you what?”
Her breathing ratcheted inside her corset and Lochlan’s eyes dropped to the rise and fall of her breasts. He had to close his eyes against the tumult of desire that lit his veins like a blazing wildfire.
The Moon Shines Red (Heart of Darkness Book 1) Page 22
