by A. S. Green
Cormac called out for her from inside the house, and she was just about to answer him when she heard the ominous rumble of a low and hostile growl.
Meghan’s breath caught in her throat, and she slowly turned to face the threat, doing her best not to make any sudden movement. At the front gate, not twenty feet from her, was the reason for the rabbit’s quick escape.
It was a large hound—gray, bristled, with blazing red eyes. Its black lips were curled back, and saliva dripped from its long canine teeth. Meghan knew it was cú sídhe. She also knew it was not a MacConall.
Instinctively, she put her hand out and low. “Stay.”
The dog growled in response and stalked forward.
“Stay,” she said again, drawing out the word, as if it was merely a golden retriever in obedience school. The porch was no more than five feet behind her. If she was fast enough, she could run up the steps and through the front door.
The hound fell back on its haunches, readying to spring.
“Shit!” Meghan whirled, but no sooner had she turned her back than a heavy weight hit her from behind. She landed flat on her belly on the flat stones. The sandwich plate crashed to the walkway and broke into three large shards.
Her hand darted out for one of the jagged chunks, then she flipped over just as the beast pounced, landing on her chest. She swiped at its throat and made contact.
The hound snarled then closed its mouth over her neck.
“Nolan!” Cormac shouted from the doorway. “Nolan, stop!”
The cú sídhe’s head jerked up, releasing her throat, but not getting off her chest. Its weight pressed down on her lungs, and she gasped for breath while struggling to roll away.
“Let her go!” Cormac yelled, but Meghan’s head was already beginning to feel light and floaty from the lack of oxygen, and it made her feel like she was hearing his voice from under water.
She tried to drag in air, but her lungs would not inflate. Her vision went spotty, and then suddenly the beast was flying. Meghan sucked in a lungful of air and crab-walked backwards until her hands hit the first step of the porch.
In the yard, two large hounds were on their hind legs, snarling, biting, and clashing their teeth. There was a great howling noise and a yelp before they finally fell apart.
Then, in the time it took Meghan to blink, two men stood facing each other on the grass, both of them scowling. Cormac’s hand was bleeding.
The other man was gray-haired, but extremely fit, and wearing a denim shirt and lighter jeans. She felt gratified to see the deep scratch down his neck, and hoped that it was she who’d done it.
Realizing she was still clutching the broken piece of plate, she dropped it onto the step and pushed herself to her feet. She tried not to tremble as Cormac reached out for her, and she forced a sense of calm into her posture as she walked to his side.
“Meghan,” Cormac said unhappily. “This is our old friend, Nolan Cassidy,”
“Cormac?” There was a lot built into the man’s simple demand for an explanation.
“Nolan, this is Meghan Walsh. Halfling. My mate.”
There was a beat of silence as Nolan let that sink in, then he reluctantly bowed his head. “My apologies, lass.”
“No harm done,” she said, but she didn’t think either of them believed her, especially since Cormac tightened his hold on her hand.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” Cormac asked, the sarcasm not lost on any of them.
“I suppose you’d be owing the Black Castle for that pleasure,” Nolan said, matching Cormac tone for tone, and Cormac’s whole body went rigid.
Nolan stepped forward and reached into the back pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a folded paper, unfolded it, and handed it to Cormac. At the top was the line:
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?
Below it was a poorly sketched picture of Cormac. Meghan wouldn’t have even known it was him, except for the words below it:
Cormac MacConall
6’ 2”
200 lbs.
Dark Brown Hair, May be bearded.
May be traveling with a woman.
Dangerous. Do not approach.
Below that, there was a phone number. Below that were the hated symbols tattooed on her own back.
“We’ve destroyed the rest of the posters, at least those we could find, but they were plastered all over Grand Marais, Lutsen, Tofte, even as far south as Two Harbors. They’re looking for ye, mate. Ye best stay put.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Cormac said, putting his arm around Meghan’s shoulders. “Truly.”
Nolan’s gaze swung to Meghan. “I’d heard rumors. I hadn’t believed them.”
“Believe it,” Cormac said, drawing her even closer. “And you can tell anyone else who doubts it.”
Meghan felt her whole body warm, and not just from Cormac’s proximity.
A scream of pain escaped the house and they all turned to look. “What’s that?” Meghan whispered.
“Declan,” Cormac said. Then, turning to Nolan. “Again, I appreciate the warning. We’ll be careful.”
Nolan bowed his head then took two steps backwards before disappearing behind the hedge.
Cormac grabbed Meghan’s hand and towed her up the porch steps and into the house. Together, they raced up the stairs then turned left down the longer hallway to Declan’s room. Another scream escaped from behind his door as they approached.
Aiden was standing just outside, and he put his hand out to stop them from entering. He had his phone to his ear.
“Doc,” he said, “it’s Aiden MacConall…Aye, I know she’s scheduled for tomorrow, but we need her today.” Meghan and Cormac waited to hear whatever response Aiden was getting. Aiden kept his eyes locked on Cormac’s while he listened.
“Thank ye… Aye, thank ye again,” Aiden said, then he hung up.
Aiden dragged Cormac and Meghan away from Declan’s door. Cormac protested. “Let me see him.”
“No. He doesn’t want anyone to see him when he’s like this.”
“What’s wrong?” Cormac asked, trying to push around Aiden and get to the door. “He was fine last night.”
Aiden caught him by the arm and jerked him back. “His nurse is supposed to come with his injection tomorrow, but the pain came early this month. Come with me.”
He led them toward the window at the end of the hall that faced the front yard. Below them, coming up the walkway, was a redheaded woman in baby-blue scrubs. She stopped to pick up some of the broken plate, then disappeared from view under the porch roof.
“His nurse?” Cormac asked.
Aiden nodded. “Rowan McNeely. She comes over from Ely.”
Cormac murmured to himself. “She sure doesn’t waste time.”
Aiden almost smiled.
“Shouldn’t we—?” Meghan took a step toward the stairs, thinking they should go down and greet her when she entered the house.
“No,” Aiden said. “Stay here.”
They all turned from the window and watched as Rowan ran up the stairs, carrying a small leather kit. She didn’t even glance at them as she hustled down the hall to Declan’s room and went inside.
“But…?” Meghan asked. “How are we supposed to help him if we don’t know what’s wrong?”
“I know what’s wrong,” Aiden said. “That’s not what I meant. We need to stay out of the way for the sake of Declan’s pride.”
Another howl of pain came from down the hall and rattled the walls. Cormac’s face went white as rice.
“What is he sick with?” Meghan asked. It had been impossible to miss Declan’s thinner frame and the yellow tinge of his skin, but she hadn’t wanted to ask, and Cormac hadn’t offered any information. By the look on his face now, Meghan realized that Cormac hadn’t been holding out on her. He was as much in the dark as she.
“He started smoking salvia shortly after our parents died.”
“I’ve heard of that,” Meghan said. It had been showi
ng up at parties in Chicago before she left.
Aiden nodded. “Its effects on the sídhe aren’t well understood yet.”
Another howl of pain had them all turning their heads.
“He told me he was recovering. Are you saying he’s still using?” Cormac asked.
“No,” Aiden said. “I had it all pulled from our back garden as soon as I learned about it. He’s rarely left the grounds in the last few decades.”
Rowan McNeely emerged from Declan’s room and walked toward them. She gave Cormac and Meghan a curious glance, then she looked to Aiden and leaned her head toward the stairs, indicating he should follow her.
When Cormac tried to follow, too, Meghan grabbed his hand to stop him. They watched from the window as Rowan and Aiden spoke outside on the front lawn.
When Aiden returned, his face was grim. “She said Declan needs to start eating better, and he needs more fresh air—oxygenation, she called it. She also thinks his mental health would improve if he got out and was around more people.”
Cormac nodded. “Then I think it’s time for us all to leave the house.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
MEGHAN
It was nearly dinnertime. Meghan, Cormac, and Aiden were sitting in the kitchen when Declan finally shuffled downstairs, looking exhausted even though he’d been in bed since the night before.
Cormac took one look at him then stood up, slapped a hand over his belly and announced that he was starving. Aiden followed him up. Meghan rose more hesitantly. The three of them had planned it all out. As soon as Declan came down, they were going to take him to Ely for fresh air and a big dinner out on the little town.
For the sake of Declan’s pride, they were going to blame the evening’s plan on Meghan’s totally off the cuff comment from the day before about having cabin fever. Declan wouldn’t want them to make a fuss over him, but they figured he’d be totally down for fussing over her.
The whole thing made her nervous. She understood that Declan’s nurse wanted him to get more fresh air, but they could just go outside on the grounds for a walk. If they wanted a big dinner, she was happy to cook. They could scrape off the burned bits.
“What about Nolan?” she’d asked when Cormac came up with the plan. “Nolan said they’re not just looking for us in Grand Marais. They’ve widened their search. Don’t you think this is unnecessarily risky?”
“We’ll be careful,” Aiden had assured her.
There were still a couple hours of daylight left. Meghan didn’t think three gorgeous men walking through town was the epitome of inconspicuousness.
“Besides, the sídhe to pádraig ratio swings in our favor in Ely and, by now, most of our kind knows Cormac has returned. So he’s not news anymore.”
“People know we’re here?” Didn’t that defeat the whole purpose of coming?
“Only the right people. I’ve been checking with the local guards. No strangers have come around asking questions. That’s what Cormac was worried about.”
Well, she’d known that, but…
“If there’s any trouble, we’ll likely outnumber them.”
Meghan had just resigned herself to their plan when Declan arrived in the kitchen and the three of them rose from their seats at the table.
“Meghan, wants to go to town,” Cormac said. “She has cabin fever.”
Declan’s eyes shifted across each of their faces suspiciously. “I thought you wanted to lie low.”
Yep. Sharp as a tack. He was totally on to them.
When they didn’t answer, Declan pressed. “And I thought Meghan needed time to clear her head.”
Aiden laughed. “Seriously? If her head gets any clearer, it’s really not going to be fun throwing darts with her. We won’t stand a chance.”
Meghan had to admit, Aiden’s acting was pretty convincing.
“We’ve waited long enough,” Cormac said. “And I’m done with hiding. We only came here in the first place because the púca thought it was the safest plan.”
Meghan noticed Aiden scowl at the mention of Branna. She didn’t blame him; she hadn’t warmed to the shape-shifter much herself.
“Really, brother?” Declan asked. “That was the only reason? You don’t flatter us much, do ye?”
A muscle jumped in Cormac’s jaw. “Let’s leave the past in the past. We’re all hungry. Meghan’s head is clear. It’s as safe as it’s ever going to be. So now I’m taking her on a real date.”
“With your brothers,” Declan added with a snort. Yep. Totally on to them.
“With my brothers,” Cormac said, undaunted. “Now let’s go.”
“Whatever,” Declan said with a huff.
“We should go somewhere nice,” Aiden added as his typical dark Levi’s and tucked Henley gave way to black pants and a pressed buttoned shirt with a thin silver stripe. Of the three of them, Aiden always seemed to pay the most attention to detail.
Meghan shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t have anything nice in her suitcase. In fact, she didn’t have much of anything. She’d had to do laundry more than once since she’d arrived—by hand, mind you. Apparently there was no need for a washer and dryer when cú sídhe clothing was all a figment of the imagination.
“Uh. I don’t have anything dressy in my suitcase.”
Declan and Aiden gave her a slow blink. Aiden was the first to speak. “Sorry, Meghan. I was thinking you’d just glamour something. Sometimes we forget you’re not cú sídhe.”
Meghan felt her face heat. She was both flattered by their forgetfulness and self-conscious about the reminder that she wasn’t like them at all. Even being a halfling hadn’t brought much in the way of special gifts.
“No matter,” Cormac said, turning her away from his brothers and into his arms. “Ye look great the way ye are, but now that we’re going out, ye can go shopping.”
She opened her mouth to protest. She didn’t have any money.
“My treat,” he said, and he planted a warm kiss on her mouth. It was enough to convince her of anything.
* * *
Meghan stood in the full-length mirror and smoothed her hands over her stomach, then she made a half turn to check out her ass. Behind her, Declan gave a low appreciative whistle. Cormac backhanded him across the stomach, and Aiden chuckled.
She had to admit, she didn’t look too bad.
Twenty minutes earlier, they’d arrived in downtown Ely, which wasn’t much more than one main street surrounded by houses. No surprise, it didn’t have much in the way of clothing stores, unless you were looking for camouflage or flame orange hunting gear, hiking boots, or tall rubber waders.
“There are some girls,” Aiden said, pointing toward two teenagers on the sidewalk outside a café, just ahead. They were both dressed in knee-length skirts with thick tights. Meghan couldn’t tell what they wore on top, but she bet it was nice because they had designer coats. “I’ll ask them where they shop. Hey!” he yelled.
The girls turned to look—first at Aiden who was jogging up to them, then toward Declan, Cormac, and finally Meghan, who were following behind at a slower pace.
“We’re looking for women’s clothes,” Aiden called out.
The girls stared at him for a second then burst out laughing.
“Very funny,” he said and as he got closer, and more to the point, the girls got a good look at him, they sobered up quickly.
One of the girl’s critical gaze swung to Meghan, taking in her worn-out jeans and nubby sweater ensemble.
Cormac leaned in and whispered, “They’re daoine sídhe.”
Meghan looked up at him in puzzlement. The girls seemed too young to have been born when Cormac had last been in town. “Do you know them?”
“No. Remember what I told you about the eyes?” he asked, glancing at the girl who was speaking with Aiden. “They’re lavender. Sure sign.”
Meghan nodded, remembering the two dead sídhe she’d seen; Cormac had said they were daoine. It made her sick to think of anyone killing the t
wo young girls who stood in front of her.
By that time, she, Cormac, and Declan had caught up to Aiden and the girls, one of whom was mid-sentence.
“…so in that case,” she said, giving Aiden a flirtatious smile. “Try Sissie’s Closet. It’s the small boutique behind the tattoo parlor.”
Which was where Meghan was now, checking out her ass in front of a full-length mirror. The outfit was a bit OTT: a knee-length, black leather skirt with a slit to mid-thigh, lace up boots, and a black vintage Jimmy Hendrix tank over a long-sleeved white cotton T-shirt.
“Now she looks like a leannán sídhe,” Declan said, expressing approval.
Meghan felt her belly twist. Was that what this was about? Were they all uncomfortable with her looking so much like her less desirable half? Was Cormac’s suggestion that she go shopping just so he could pretend she was whole—even if that meant dressing up like one of those life-sucking spiders?
She turned her eyes on him, questioning, but he misunderstood.
“I told ye, mo cuisle. This are plenty of our kind around, and there’s been no sign of strangers, so there’s no bigger target on your back than there was before.”
He sounded almost disappointed about there having been no sign of trouble, but could she blame him? He was a hunter and for over a week he’d suppressed that need to give her time to adjust.
“Now,” he said, swinging his head toward his brothers. “Ready?”
Meghan turned and both Declan’s and Aiden’s eyes jumped from her ass to her face. Meghan raised her eyebrows at Declan, and he gave her a smirk. It looked like someone was feeling better.
A low growl rumbled up from Cormac’s chest. “I’ll thank ye both to quit ogling my mate.”
“Who’s ogling?” Aiden asked, eyes wide and hands raised halfway in mock surrender.
“Come on,” Meghan said. “I can hear Declan’s stomach growling from here.”
* * *
The restaurant wasn’t five-star, but it was a nice steak house with comfortable, upholstered booths, and votive candles on every table. The bar at the far end was lacquered and shiny, with a mirror that went the whole length of the wall and made the place seem twice as big as it was.
