Riftkeepers: Prime

by Carrie Whitethorne

  “I want you all to be comfortable,” he shrugged.

  When they'd eaten, they went out onto the deck to watch their approach to the island. From where they stood they could see the highlands to the north and lowlands to the south. The landscape was beautiful, mountains casting dark shows as the sun made its descent. Zander and Enya were looking out, captivated. Callan put an arm round her shoulders and she leaned into him. “I never get tired of this view.”

  She looked up at him and said, “It really is beautiful. Thank you for inviting us. I've always wanted to come back.”

  He smiled and looked back out to the island.

  “Time to go,” he called to the children and they made their way back to the car.

  It was only a short drive from the port to his town and they were soon at Callan's home.

  The house stood on the outskirts of the little town, overlooking the bay. Modern, down a private drive with two neighbouring houses on the western side. The lights were on inside as they pulled into the driveway.

  Callan retrieved their bags from the boot of the car and led the way inside.

  “Alayna?” he called as he stepped into the hallway.

  The hall was huge. A galleried stair case led off to the left, a lounge to the right. The kitchen was ahead. The floors were all oak, the walls a deep cream. It was warm and bright and welcoming.

  “Alayna's my younger sister. She came down to fill the fridge, light the fires and make sure the rooms were ready for guests,” he explained.

  “I'm in the kitchen,” a soft voice called back.

  Following Callan, they filtered into the huge room. The oak floor from the hallway continued through, the ceiling was dotted with spotlights, the units were black and the worktops were shining granite. She hadn't expected such a modern house.

  Hadn't he described it as a cottage?

  The large range cooker stood at the back of the room. A huge pan of what smelled like soup was bubbling away. On the central island were bowls, spoons, loaves of bread, a butter dish, a jug of water and glasses all set out for five.

  By the island was a tall, slender young woman, the female equivalent to Callan if there could be one. She was stunningly beautiful, it made Charlotte self-conscious and she mentally checked her appearance.

  You look like crap after more than five hours in a car with a hangover.

  “It's a pleasure to meet you,” she said with a warm smile. Her soft voice was oddly soothing.

  “Alayna, this is Charlotte, Zander and Enya. Everyone, this is my baby sister.” His eyes twinkled as he looked toward her.

  “Hmm, less of the baby,” she scolded. Turning to Charlotte she took her hands and said, “It's a pleasure, Callan's told me so much about you. I'm so pleased you agreed to visit.”

  Charlotte shot a glance at Callan. He looked away.

  Alayna moved on to Enya, crouched and cupped her cheek in a slender hand. “Welcome to Arran bana-phrionnsa,” she said, and kissed her cheek.

  Enya beamed, “Thank you,” and went quiet again.

  Lastly, she approached Zander. He was smiling as she crouched before him. She cupped his cheek, kissed his forehead and said “and you, Mo Prionnsa.” Zander flushed and looked away.

  She gave Callan a quizzical look but he didn't acknowledge her.

  “Please, sit, eat,” she said as she brought the huge pan of soup to the island and served each bowl set there but Zander's. She returned to the range and brought a tray of chicken nuggets and fries for him.

  “Thank you,” he said with surprise and grinned at her.

  He's told her everything about us.

  They all took their places and shared the meal with the beautiful Alayna.

  Conversation was kept simple, their journey, the island, how long they intended to stay. When they finished the meal, Charlotte helped load the dishwasher.

  “I really must be getting home,” Alayna announced. She said goodbye to them all in turn and left quietly.

  “I'll show you to your rooms,” Callan said, gathering up their bags from the hall.

  Zander followed him. Half way up the stairs he turned to Charlotte and said, “She's nice, Mama.”

  Charlotte thought for a moment then said, “Yeah, she is, isn't she?”

  “Can we see her again mummy? I really like her,” Enya chirped from behind.

  “She'll be popping in and out throughout your stay,” Callan explained laughing.

  Chapter 7

  The landing had six doors. Callan opened the door to the first room and flicked on the light. There were twin double beds, hand crafted in pine. Matching wardrobes, drawers and dressing table filled much of the space around the room. The walls were painted an off white with flashes of colour coming from the teal curtains, bedding, and pictures on the wall. Each picture was framed in pine and the window overlooked the bay.

  “This is your room, there's a bathroom through there,” he said to Zander and Enya pointing to a door at the far end of the room. A wide screen TV hung on one wall and Zander instantly found the remote and handed it to Charlotte for her to set a channel.

  Zander flopped onto the bed as Enya went into the bathroom.

  He gestured for Charlotte to lead back onto the landing.

  “You're over here,” he said, nodding to the room opposite, across the landing to the room Callan had indicated. She opened the door for him and followed behind.

  Wow.

  He placed the bag on a large leather Ottoman at the foot of a four-poster bed. It was layered with burgundy and cream pillows, duvet, and throws. The walls matched the soft furnishings, making the room feel cosy. The carpet was plush, cream wool and Callan made no sound on it as he crossed the room to stand by the large window. To the left of the window, on the same wall as the bed, was a door to what she assumed was the bathroom.

  On the opposite wall were mirrored doors, evenly spaced. In the corner a large chest of drawers with an elegant silver mirror on the top. She walked over and peeked into the bathroom. The huge bath was set into the floor in the centre of the room. Behind was a Jack and Jill sink and vanity area. A wet area with a multi headed shower dominated the entire rear wall with a large chest at the far end.

  This must be his room. This isn't just a guest bedroom.

  As if reading her thoughts, he said, “This is my room. I'll be staying in the village while you're here, give you some space.”

  Space? This house has nothing but space.

  “Callan there's no need. We don't want to put you out. I can share with Enya, that bed is big enough for us both and you can sleep in here. It's fine,” she insisted.

  Why is he going to such lengths?

  He studied her for a moment.

  She wouldn't force him out of his home, she was sure of that.

  “There's another guest room I can sleep in if you're sure you're comfortable with me staying in the house. I'm happy to leave you and the children here over night.” Then he added, “This is your room for the duration of your stay.”

  He ran a hand through his hair and moved toward the door. “I'll be down stairs if you want to settle the children. There won't be anyone visiting tonight so you can relax.” He walked silently from the room and closed the door behind him.

  Charlotte smiled.

  He really is thoughtful.

  But why would I want him to leave? Why does he feel he needs to?

  She left her thoughts and went to see the children.

  Spread out on their beds, watching TV they had already changed into night clothes.

  “I'm going for a shower and I'll come back afterwards, help you settle for sleep, okay?”

  “Mummy? What did Alayna mean when she said the funny words?” Zander looked up as Enya asked the question.

  Charlotte thought for a moment. “I'm not sure, baby. It was probably a welcome in Gaelic, the language that's sometimes spoken here.”

  “Oh, okay,” she said and went back to watching TV.

  She made a m
ental note to ask Callan when she got downstairs.

  Back in Callan's room she sat on the edge of the bed, took her hair out of its ponytail and pulled her bag closer. Rifling through she found her wash bag and hair brush, clean underwear, and a night shirt. After brushing her hair through she removed her clothes and walked into the bathroom. The chest near the shower had a stack of white, fluffy towels neatly folded on top. She pressed the sliver button on the wall and five shower heads burst into life, each massaging a different part of her body. She'd never felt anything like it.

  Oh, that's amazing!

  She washed her hair, shaved her legs, and stood under the jets for a while longer. Not wanting to be too long she got out and wrapped herself in one of the luxurious towels, tied a smaller towel around her wet hair and twisted it into a turban. At one of the sinks she cleaned her teeth and studied herself in the mirror.

  You're certainly no Alayna.

  She dried quickly and pulled her hair back into a pony tail. Her nightshirt was far too short. She couldn't wear that to go down stairs.

  She found a thick, black robe hanging on the back of one of the doors and threw it on, tying it tightly round her waist. She glanced at herself in the mirror again and frowned.

  I'm not trying to impress anyone.

  When she returned to Enya and Zander they were asleep in their beds. She turned off their TV, tucked them in and watched them sleep for a few moments.

  Zander's amazed me today. He's coping so well with all these new experiences.

  I'm so lucky to have them both. It hasn't been that bad on my own. They're entirely worth it. All of it.

  As she made her way down the stairs she could hear music playing quietly in the lounge. She stopped at the door and looked around the room. A fire burned in a beautiful stone mantled fireplace. The walls had photographs hung here and there but were otherwise plain, off white. There were two leather sofas in the centre of the room, either side of the fire place, a low coffee table between them. Callan was leaning on the arm of the sofa closest to her, feet buried in one of the throws. He was wearing lounge shorts and a vest. His tattoo was fully visible on the upper arm he was leaning on. A link of Celtic shields forming a thick band. His long hair brushed his shoulder, complimenting his lightly tanned skin. On the table was a bottle of red wine and two glasses. One was half full.

  “Suits you,” he said, eyes flashing with humour as he admired her in his dressing gown.

  “Sorry,” she said, blushing. “I didn't think to bring my own and I was cold after my shower.”

  Not to mention entirely inappropriately dressed without it.

  He swung his feet around and sat upright on the sofa. Pouring her a glass of wine he asked, “Are they settled?”

  She sat at the opposite end of the sofa Callan was sitting on. “Yep, out like lights before I'd finished. That thing is amazing by the way”

  He chuckled, “You'll love the bath then. It has spa jets. You'll have to treat yourself to a soak tomorrow.”

  “I certainly will. Enya asked an interesting question earlier. What did Alayna say to them as she greeted them? I know it was Gaelic but I don't speak the language.”

  He paused for a moment, as if weighing his answer. “She called them 'my prince' and 'princess'.”

  That's an odd way to address them.

  “Why would she call them that?” she asked, taking a sip of her wine.

  “Because,” he paused, his brow furrowed, “we aren't blessed with children in the family very often. They're cherished. Spoiled to be truthful. Alayna was so excited when I told her about them. She…” he stopped.

  What? What aren't you telling me?

  “And here I am thinking they'd been born into some sort of Fae nobility,” she said flippantly.

  Callen tensed. “They have been.”

  She laughed in his face. “Don't be ridiculous, Callan. I'm not buying that one. It's bad enough that you've got me half believing in fairies.”

  He got up and walked to the far wall, taking down a frame. He looked at it and smiled briefly. Returning to the sofa he handed the frame to Charlotte.

  “At the back, on the thrones, are my parents. My mother has copper hair and is very fair skinned. Her eyes are a deep, emerald green, just like the children. My father beside her. That's me on her left, obviously. On my father's right is my elder brother, Dagda. He's heir to the Throne. You've met Alayna. We had this taken in nineteen hundred. It's the only official photograph we have.” There was a tense pause as she weighed the information. He was staring at her again.

  “Well. That explains that.” She handed him back the picture and tucked her feet underneath herself. The throw was warm on her feet and she curled her toes into it.

  Callan had returned the frame to the wall and sat at the opposite end of the sofa again.

  Breaking the silence, she asked, “Is there anything else I need to know? Because this is all getting to be completely unbelievable. You're either stringing me along on some sort of epic lie, or you're only feeding me trickles of information which isn't entirely fair, is it?”

  Am I annoyed? Disappointed? Whatever I'm done with half-truths and lies.

  “The truth, Callan. All of it, please,” she said quietly.

  He turned to face her. “I'm sorry.”

  I don't want apologies.

  “Sorry? Sorry for what? For lying to me? For drip feeding me just enough to get me here then claiming to be a prince of whatever you claim to be? For meeting me again and kicking all of this off? For having ever crossed my path? Which part are you sorry for, Callan?” Her voice had raised several octaves as her annoyance gradually built to anger. He winced.

  This isn't a game, it's my bloody life.

  Consciously softening her voice, she said, “The truth, please.” Then sat back and sipped her wine. Waiting, frustration building, she felt her foot tapping into the fluffy throw.

  He took a breath and met her eyes. Holding her gaze for a few seconds he then lowered his head and said, “I came back. I looked for you. I visited every town and village within ten miles of Graycroft and I've returned every Beltane, every Solstice and every Samhain since, looking for you.” His voice was unsteady. He didn't look at her. “I thought I saw you once, on the harbour, but the woman I saw was pushing twins in a pram, talking to them about the geese and ships. She didn't see me and I didn't approach her. Now I know it was definitely you.” He shook his head, “I should have spoken to you then.”

  She couldn't believe what she was hearing. “You came back? For me?”

  He nodded but kept his head down. “I should have told you who I am that weekend, I shouldn't have walked away without exchanging numbers at least.” His hands were shaking, she could hear the regret in every word.

  He paused again. She wasn't enjoying this one bit but she needed the truth. He glanced at her then, scrubbing his hands over his face, he continued. “I monitor the portal between your world and that of the dead. The otherworld. Heaven for want of a better word.” He held up a hand. “I know it sounds insane. It's my job, my role in our society, what I do. It's also my responsibility to monitor any fluctuations in the magical currents of nature. I work with the druids we have left to keep the gate safe from… breaches.” He braved a glance her way to see she was still with him.

  “When Enya somehow caused that surge in water pressure at school I was sent to investigate. I followed the markers her magic had left to find you both in that café. I didn't know it was you at first. Then I noticed her. It was like looking at a tiny version of my mother. It took me a few minutes to dare come to you. I'd been searching for so long and then you were there, with my child. My child. I panicked. How was I supposed to approach you both? I couldn't walk away and leave you to your life. I had to try to earn your trust, to find a way to… I couldn't lose you again. The rest you know.”

  He was silent then, waiting for her to respond.

  She could only focus on one thing.

  “You came
back? You looked for me for all those years?” she choked on the words. She couldn't breathe, couldn't hear anything but her pulse in her ears.

  He wanted me. What do I say to that?

  “I did. I was miserable after we parted. I told Alayna about you. She told me to keep searching. That I'd find you eventually,” he said with a sad smile.

  He came back.

  Fighting to keep emotion from her voice she said, “Thank you. For not turning away when you saw Enya. For working with Zander to get to know him. Knowing you want them makes everything worth it.” She looked at her hands. She needed to think.

  Minutes passed before she sat upright, put her glass on the table and put her hand on his shoulder.

  “It wasn't your fault. It just happened. Stuff just happens. We're here now. The kids have you now. We can just put it behind us and you can get to know them properly. They can start and call you Dad if you want them to. It's all as it should be, or as close as we can get it given the circumstances.”

  He ran his hands through his hair and stood up. Her hand fell to her side and she watched him leave the room.

  Or just walk away. That works.

  She drained her glass and shook the bottle. A glass left. She poured. She drank. She waited.

  The bottle was empty.

  It's always bloody gone.

  She got up, heading for the kitchen. Callan was standing at the sink, staring out of the window, a fresh bottle in his hand.

  “You okay?” she asked, tentatively from the doorway.

  He turned and looked at her. She hadn't seen that expression before.

  What's he thinking?

  He managed a small smile and walked to the door. Taking her hand, he led her back into the lounge.

  He told her about the island. His family. Where they would go, what they would see, who they would meet. She listened intently as he told her how much his mother would love the children, how his family would be so excited to get know them. Alayna was already planning Aunty time with them.

  The atmosphere had changed completely, he was happy Callan again. She hoped the weight had been lifted. His guilt had been unfounded.

  Charlotte yawned. It had been a long, long day and the wine wasn't helping.