Druid (Secrets of the Fae Book 2)

by Rebecca F. Kenney

  Once we're in the entry hall, I pull on his arm to stop him. "Kieran, what did you mean, about that pixie being hated by her race?"

  "She worked for a private investigator," he says. "But she used her powers, and the equipment and knowledge from her job, for a little side business— taking photos and videos of Fae performing magic or using their abilities. And she would demand money in exchange for keeping the proof a secret."

  "She blackmailed them."

  He nods. "Threatening to expose another Fae to the humans— it's a terrible thing to do. They all despised her."

  "That's why you chose her for me. Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Would it have made a difference?"

  "I don't know." Knowing that the pixie was blackmailing her own kind, and other Fae, makes me feel better about her being out of the picture. At the same time, she still didn't deserve to die. "I think it does help, a little."

  "Good. Then let's forget about it and dance."

  Just then a pixie server bustles past, carrying a tray of bite-sized appetizers. His mouth falls open when he notices our faces. "Fear Dearg," he says, using the old name for the Far Darrig. "W-welcome, sir."

  "Why thank you," says Kieran, helping himself to one of the hors d'oeuvres. "Come, Aislinn."

  The long wall along the right side of the entry hall breaks into two open archways, and through them I hear the music, louder now. I can feel the insistent buzz of magic.

  "Do you feel that?" I gasp.

  Kieran is watching me. "No," he says. "This kind of magic doesn't affect me. So forgive me if I don't have your skill or stamina tonight; I may have to take breaks from the dancing."

  "No problem." I let go of his arm and drift toward the nearest archway. Through it, I see a mass of people, most of them short and slight in build. Some are taller, probably part pixie and part human. They're all dancing, stomping, whirling, some of them with arms linked, their legs and feet moving so fast they're nearly a blur. I can't stay still, face to face with that crowd, that wild Irish music and the heart-pounding beat. I have to move or I'll go insane.

  I dive into the crowd like a thirsty desert traveler into the clear pools of an oasis. I am light, magic, motion— it's like flying, like breathing. An incredible release of all the tension I've felt in the past few days.

  Kieran is beside me, keeping up with the complicated Irish dance. I suppose he's done this sort of thing before— they seem to know him. A few of them even nod to us as we dance, although more of them cast sidelong, surprised looks.

  When the dance ends, the pixie DJ at the head of the room mops his forehead and waves to everyone, and they cheer for him. There's a brief pause before another number starts, and the crowd shifts, some of them heading for the drinks table and others taking food from servers.

  A slightly taller pixie, a woman of maybe forty with wispy blond hair, approaches us. "Far Darrig," she says, her voice dripping with admiration. "I'm so glad you could come."

  "Aislinn, this is our hostess, Mrs. Lydia Cavanaugh," Kieran says. "Lydia, Aislinn Byrne. The girl I told you about."

  "Of course. I hope Walter didn't give you any trouble? I forgot to warn him about your plus one."

  "He came around to the idea," says Kieran.

  "You're always welcome here, you know. Isn't that right, George?" The middle-aged pixie man at her elbow nods, wiping sweat from his glasses. "George, this is Aislinn Byrne. You know, the one who took care of Elspeth for us."

  "The Soul-Stealer," he says, cramming the glasses back onto his nose and extending a sweaty palm. "Charmed, just charmed."

  "I don't really like that title," I say. "Aislinn is fine."

  "Of course, yes." Lydia smacks her husband's arm. "Don't listen to him, honey. You must dance with us all night, Aislinn. The next one is going to be lots of fun! A synchronized dance."

  "Synchronized?"

  "Oh, yes! We do all the same moves and steps all together— it's fantastic, just like a musical! You'll feel a sort of extra buzz— just give in to it, all right? You'll sense what you're supposed to do. Far Darrig, darling, I'm afraid you'll have to sit this one out."

  "No problem; I'll enjoy watching Aislinn dance." He winks at me and heads for a spot by the wall where he has a good view.

  I'm incredibly nervous. What if my pixie powers don't extend to this kind of thing? I'll look like an idiot. And I'm near the front, where everyone can see what I'm doing.

  But the music is already starting, no time to back out now. I close my eyes for a second and I feel it, the magic throbbing in my veins. It's flowing through me— but not just through me— beyond me, circling to the others and then coming back in. I whisper "Teacht chugam"— "come to me," hoping it will make my sense of the others stronger.

  And then we begin. Dancing, all together— perfectly, dramatically choreographed, as if we've all been practicing for days— dozens and dozens of dancers moving as one. I can sense what the other dancers are going to do right before they do it, and I move with them. It's a sensual dance, all hips and shoulders and arms and swirling hair.

  At first I'm so focused on what's happening that I'm oblivious to anything else. And then I lock eyes with Kieran over the heads of the dancers.

  He's watching me with undisguised hunger—every move my body makes, every twist and shake, every slither and slide. Somehow it makes me want to twirl a little faster, move my hips a little further, add a little extra spice just for him— so I do. He stands, hands clenched at his sides, his eyes silver fire.

  I shouldn't be dancing like this for him. After I told him I was taken, that he couldn't have me. That we could only be friends.

  It's not fair.

  Swiftly I step aside and weave my way through the crowd to the edge of the room. He comes to me quickly, and for a second I think he expects something— he almost reaches for me.

  "Why did you stop?" he asks, and he sounds breathless, strained.

  "Too much pressure," I say. "Let's just watch."

  We both know why. But instead of talking about it, we stand awkwardly side by side till the dance is done.

  "Come with me for the next one," I say. It won't be as intense if we're dancing together, instead of him just watching me. Right?

  Thankfully the next one is a country song, and everyone laughs and starts line-dancing. Kieran isn't as good at this one, but he keeps up well enough through it, and a couple more dances as well.

  At some point during the night, I lose time. Completely. I have no idea how long we've been there, how many songs I've danced through— I'm no longer conscious of Kieran's presence in the room or nervous about how he may be feeling about me. It's me and the pixies, my magic and theirs, and we are Fae, and we are creating a dream world of our own, where everything is light and beauty and music. Nothing else exists, or matters. Sometimes I feel like I'm floating, dancing on clouds, not even really touching the floor. Is that possible? Anything is possible.

  And then it's over, and I'm lost. I'm in a place of light and sound, but something is missing.

  The music— where did my music go?

  The pixies are all laughing and talking— they don't seem to notice that life as we know it has ended.

  "Aislinn, are you all right?" Somebody's face swims before me. Gray, luminous eyes, shaded with dark lashes. Perfect lips— I reach out to touch them with my finger. He catches my hand. "Aislinn. Come, it's time to go."

  "Why?"

  "Because it's almost dawn, and you need sleep and food. But first, something to drink."

  "Oh. All right."

  I let him lead me to the table where the drinks are. He hands me a glass. I forget what to do with it.

  "Drink," he says, lifting my hand so the glass touches my lips.

  I sip the liquid until it's gone. My head is starting to clear.

  "That was amazing," I say.

  "Yes, it was. You were— breathtaking."

  I smile. "Thanks for bringing me here."

  A couple of the pixi
es pass us, smiling at me, complimenting my dancing, asking me if I'll come again. I feel warm, happy, content.

  "They like you," he says, grinning.

  It hits me suddenly— except for George and Lydia, none of them talked to him, only to me. Even though they know him, they don't necessarily like or understand him. They tolerate him, or they fear him— maybe both. Except for his words with the doorman, he's been perfectly charming to all of them; but he's an outsider. A loner. Allowed to play and party with them, but not to be one of them.

  How must it feel to have no one like you in the world? No one who understands you, or cares to know who you really are, the good and the bad?

  It must be so lonely.

  Impulsively I step forward and hug him, slipping my arms through his, circling his chest. My head against his shoulder. He stiffens, like he's surprised; and then slowly, his arms tighten around me.

  "Thank you," I say again.

  "My pleasure." With my ear pressed against him, I hear the rumble of his voice through his chest.

  I pull away, my cheeks warming. "I should get home."

  "You should."

  "I'll see you," I say.

  "I'll be waiting."

  Right then, right there, with all of them around, I can disappear. I don't have to hide my ability; I can be completely, perfectly myself.

  With a quick wave to Kieran, I transport back to my own room.

  10

  COOL KIDS

  Zane

  "Aislinn, you seen this thing on the news? Another baby kidnapped."

  It comes across like an accusation, even though I don't mean it as one.

  We're at Julio's house, sitting in his living room with a spread of tamales and platters of quesadillas and bowls of chips and salsa in front of us on the big coffee table. Julio's mom has cooked enough for an army— or maybe enough for just Julio. That kid can put it away.

  I hand Aislinn my phone so she can see the headline about the missing baby. Her face tightens, and I know that she knows what I'm thinking. The Far Darrig's little leprechaun buddies are up to their old tricks again, taking babies and draining them of their Life-Stream— murdering them. And he lets it happen. If nothing else is enough to turn her off the guy, this should be.

  "Is he back in town?" I whisper.

  She shrugs and keeps studying the phone.

  "So this is the work of his creepy cronies?"

  She leans toward me and speaks low in my ear. "He can't always control them, Zane. They're not like dogs you can train."

  "I can't believe you're defending him."

  "You don't even know that it's him," she retorts.

  "Yeah, he's supposed to be staying away," I say. "I don't believe he's gone for a second. Probably hangin' round, watching us every day like a stalker in the shadows."

  "Stalker?" says Laurel, coming in from the kitchen with a bowl of guacamole. "You got a stalker, Aislinn?"

  "No!" Aislinn snaps, giving me a shut-up-or-else look.

  "Okay, okay, geez, girl! Calm down. Just asking cause I heard the word."

  "Zane's just being paranoid, and crazy," says Aislinn.

  "Hey! That's not fair. I was just telling her about another baby gettin' taken, okay? There's real live creeps out there."

  "True," says Laurel, swiping a chip through the guac. "You know none of those babies have been found? Not even the bodies. It's just wrong. Who does that? And why can't these parents keep their eyes on their children? Every story I hear about this, it's like the baby just up and vanished. Babies don't walk away by themselves! Lock your damn doors, people!"

  "It's crazy, man," Julio adds, through mouthfuls of tortilla and cheese. "You know I just keep tellin' myself I'm never havin' any kids. My wife's gonna be like 'Julio, let's have some kids' and I'm gonna say 'No ma'am, I ain't bringing children into this messed-up place to get molested or stolen or bullied to death.' No children for me."

  His girlfriend Carmen raises her eyebrows till they disappear under her heavy bangs. "Good to know."

  "Quiero nietos!" says his mom in protest, from the kitchen.

  "Sí mamá!" Julio calls back. He lowers his voice. "That woman has ears like a chihuahau, or a bat. Carmen and I start to make out in my room, she always comes in, says she can hear us."

  "That's cause you're crazy loud, and your bed creaks," says Carmen.

  "What can I do, it's an old bed. You want me to get a new bed? I'll tell my mama. Mamá, Carmen wants me to buy a new bed!"

  Carmen smacks his arm. "Tarado!"

  "¿Para qué?" calls Julio's mom.

  "What for?" Julio nudges Carmen. "Okay, I'll tell her what you want it for. Para hacer nietos, Mamá!" Carmen covers his mouth with her hand, laughing.

  I'm laughing, too, watching them; I can't help it. They're so comfortable with each other, just playful and fun. I glance at Aislinn, but she's deep into the news story on my phone, reading about the baby who disappeared. Probably trying to figure out if it was really the leprechauns or not. I wish I hadn't showed it to her— should have kept it to myself.

  "Hey." Gently I take the phone from her fingers. "Let it go, okay? Sorry I mentioned it. Let's just have fun."

  "What are they even joking about?" she says. "It's not like his mom really wants grandkids right now."

  "They're just bein' silly. Remember what that's like, being silly?" I poke her in the ribs. "You been so serious lately, girl! Gotta loosen up!"

  "Let's put on some music and dance!" says Carmen, jumping up.

  Aislinn's face lights up for a second, but I quickly whisper, "No powers," to her. Can't have her showing everybody up with some wicked dance moves and whipping everybody into a Fae frenzy like she did at prom. I mean, it was fun, but people were really weird about it after— the teachers and chaperones, especially. People took videos of us all dancing, and some of the adults got in trouble for dancing for hours like they did, with a bunch of high school kids. The police even came by the school to do a drug search and stuff; they thought maybe we were all high that night. It was a whole thing.

  Julio finds a great station with dance music, and we move the coffee table so we have enough room to jive. Aislinn dances with me, but I can tell she's not happy about keeping herself in check. And Julio's not helping.

  "Girl, where those moves you showed off at prom? Come on, let's do a dance off." He starts moving jerkily, weaving his arms in and out.

  "That's not hip hop, man, that's just some floppy arms danglin' around," I tell him, laughing.

  "Oh, yeah, bro? You got better moves?"

  I whip out my best hip-hop routine, with a little extra sugar on top for Aislinn's benefit. She watches me, holding her arms tight around herself like she's keeping something inside— and as soon as I finish she copies what I did exactly, but better.

  "Aw, you gettin' schooled!" yells Julio. "Back down, Z, we got our dance champion back!"

  Laurel's still on the couch, which is weird, because she's usually into anything with rhythm. "Girl, come on out here and dance," I say.

  She shakes her head. "Not feelin' it tonight."

  "Hey, where's Mike at?"

  "He, uh, he said he had things to do." She's suddenly very interested in something about her fingernail.

  "Okay. You guys good?"

  "Oh, yeah, yeah, we good." She picks up the guacamole again. "Just perfect."

  "Good, 'cause he better be treatin' you right."

  "I'm just gonna get a refill on this." She walks to the kitchen.

  I glance at Aislinn, and she shrugs. Something's going on, but Laurel obviously doesn't want to talk about it.

  The next second I forget to worry about her, because Carmen and Julio are trying to tango, and it's hilarious. I laugh until I think my ribs might crack, and Aislinn laughs till the tears come into her eyes.

  Even Julio's mother comes to watch, standing at the kitchen door with a wide smile and pride in her face. I can tell she likes Carmen— likes her and Julio together. Carmen and Juli
o just fit, easily— even their drama works for them. I've seen them fight, and come out of it with something stronger between them, like even their arguments are just part of working the lumps out of another layer in their relationship.

  Not like me and Aislinn. When we fight, it's like running straight up into a big, solid brick wall and smashing so hard we both hurt. We back up, pretend it didn't happen, kiss and all that— and then we try to move forward and we run slam into the same wall again.

  She's perched on the arm of the couch right now, her body tense, her fingers digging into the fabric. I know she just wants to let go with her magic, and she's fighting it because I asked her not to.

  I want to tell her it's okay, that she can go all magic crazy. But it's not okay. Not here, with my friends.

  "Getting a drink," I say, and I head for the kitchen.

  Laurel is standing at the counter, with her back to me. I come up next to her and open the fridge. "Hey girl, you comin' back out?" I glance to the side, at her, and see two tears rolling down her dark skin like little diamonds.

  "Hey, hey. What's wrong, what's up?" I take her shoulders and turn her toward me. "This about Mike?"

  "Oh, Mike, he's— he's just being himself, I guess."

  "What did he do?"

  "Just the way he acts around other girls. I know that makes me sound stupid jealous, but it bothers me."

  "Is he cheating? I'll break his face for you."

  "I don't think so. But I sure don't feel too special right now. He's been so busy with work and his online gaming crap— I hardly ever see him."

  I crack open my soda. "You think you wanna break up with him?"

  "No! No, I really like him. I mean, Zane, I really like him. A lot."

  "That's good, right?"

  "Maybe." She sighs. "I guess we'll see. Sorry about the waterworks."

  I nod. "All good. You let it out if you need to."

  As I walk away from her, back to the living room, I have the weirdest feeling that the whole conversation, with a couple tweaks, could apply to my relationship with Aislinn.

  She's just being herself, I guess.

  The way she acts— it bothers me.