by Ann Vremont
Kean paused, his gaze scanning the choppy water and wall of mist that lay in the boat’s path. “My mother was forty-seven when she conceived me,” he continued. “Her voice already had peaked and was beginning its decline.” He stopped stroking the back of her neck and ran his index finger over her throat. “And Danae’s had reached its maturity. She became the new high priestess and was paired with your father as high priest because of his voice.”
His gray eyes darkened to a smoldering black and his eyes traveled speculatively from Aideen’s throat to her mouth. Her skin flushed a sharp rose and she turned to look at the other passengers, relieved to find them absorbed in their own business.
“Paired? Like some sort of religious breeding program?” She spit the words out but kept her voice low. She looked back at Kean, his composed gray gaze in place once again. “And your father?”
“A very famous Irish tenor persuaded to participate in the ceremony by the legendary Maola’s beauty and a bit of opium-laced wine…”
Aideen lifted her brows in shock, her pink mouth forming a surprised “O”. Kean tossed his head back and laughed. The laugh died when he looked back down and saw Aideen glaring at him.
“You’re putting me on,” she said. The corners of her mouth were tightly drawn down and a frown creased her forehead.
“I wouldn’t joke about being a bastard,” Kean said softly. “It was hell on my mother…and on me. Her wealth was the only thing that kept the matter cloaked in some level of social acceptability.”
Aideen’s irritation began to fade and she rubbed her hands together against the growing chill. The ferry’s horn blew and Kean gestured to the fog that had built up around them. The mist brought with it memories of her time spent in Kenmare. She zipped her jacket up and leaned closer to Kean.
“I used to love the fog,” she whispered against his chest.
“I never have.” He pushed the bucket hat back up off her forehead and pressed his lips against her hair. His right hand rested loosely against his thigh but the fingers were clenched into a fist. “Scared the hell out of me when I was a lad.”
He sighed and Aideen slipped her hand under his jacket and around his waist. His fingers unclenched and he moved the hand to her shoulder in a light embrace. “Now it just makes me uptight.”
“Resonance,” Aideen said, the weight of her body settling against the backpacks as she relaxed into him. “Cenn lived two of the worst years of his life surrounded by mist.” She felt Kean’s unsure shrug and she asked him how much longer until they reached Rossaveal.
“Fifteen minutes until we hit the harbor traffic, then it’s up to chance,” he answered. “Fog might mean more than the usual number of boats coming in.”
“Probably safer for us, don’t you think?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she looked up and he gave her a thin smile.
“At least for staying out of trouble, yeah,” Kean answered but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He gave her forehead another kiss and then pulled her hat back down. “Let’s get closer to the door,” he said and helped her into the backpack. “We don’t want to be the first or last out.”
They chose a spot close to where the young woman was still reading from her bible. The girl smiled at them, her bright eyes lingering over Kean a bit longer than Aideen would have liked. The sudden possessiveness irritated her and she tried to brush it away but the girl continued to sneak glances at Kean. He noticed the pink flush to Aideen’s cheek and its cause. His hand brushed Aideen’s knee and he leaned in, keeping his voice low.
“Jealous?” he whispered, his smile fading at her frosty silence. He glanced back at the girl, gracing her with an easy smile. “Look, Meyrick’s men will be looking for a man and a woman.” He tugged at Aideen’s bucket cap. “You’re not the easiest thing to disguise.”
Aideen chewed at her lip, irritated at what he was about to propose.
“Why don’t you go sit closer to the door,” he nodded toward a heavyset, older man wearing a tattered sailor’s coat and an old wool cap. “Go out about tenth or so but stay close enough to that old fellow.”
Her nose twitched in annoyance and Kean gave a husky laugh, the sound buried deep in his throat. It was a laugh that reached out to stroke her nipples and her cheeks grew rosier. “I don’t know where I’m going,” she protested.
He leaned closer, his fingertips whispering over her denim-clad thigh. “Two blocks straight up the center street, there’s a frock shop. Stop and do a little window shopping.” She started to get up in mock anger but he pulled her down to whisper in her ear. “Don’t look back when you get off the ferry.” Feeling her hesitation, he gave her arm a tender squeeze. “I won’t lose sight of you or be too far behind. I promise.”
Relenting, Aideen extended her body to its full height, one hand resting against her hip as the other pointed at Kean in accusation. “I should have listened to my mother…” Letting out an angry squeak, she turned and stomped over to where the man was sitting. As she took a seat opposite him, she could hear the woman laughing beside Kean and the slide of her bag as she moved closer to him. Aideen let out an angry snort and the old man’s gaze flicked over her with distant politeness. She gave another snort and settled against the backpack. Alone, it annoyed her that she couldn’t feel the Bloodstone’s presence despite its closeness to her. She wanted to open the pack and make sure the stone was still inside. She told herself that the stone’s silence was proof that the special bag Kean had placed it in was working. Although she imagined the instruments Meyrick’s men were using would be much more sophisticated than her newly attuned senses.
Across from her, the man started gathering up his things. He stuffed his newspaper in a worn saddlebag and closed his thermos before shoving it alongside the paper. He tightened the fit of his cap on his massive bald crown and began buttoning his coat. He caught Aideen watching him and gave her the briefest of smiles.
“I’m expecting a bit of a chill out on the dock,” he said. He pointed at her jacket and shook his head. “Shouldn’t have zippered up,” he advised too late. “You’re the warmest you’re going to be right now.”
She started to tell him she didn’t have far to go and then realized he might be just polite enough to ask where she was going, so she nodded at him instead. She could hear the crew getting the ferry ready to dock. The heavy ropes, as thick as her waist, were cast onto a concrete pier that berthed the boat. Through the fog, she could see the ticket office, a bleak light breaking from it as passengers left the waiting area to line up for boarding. The passengers on the ferry began to line up as well, and Aideen tucked herself behind the old man.
They left the boat in a single line, the morning’s weather subduing the usual bustle. She remembered Kean’s warning not to look back and she somehow managed not to. The urge to know he was somewhere behind her slowed her down and she stumbled into one of the boarding passengers.
“Alright there, miss?” a young man asked.
“Yeah,” she answered hastily and then, seeing his hearing aid, she repeated herself. He was staring at her and she still wasn’t sure he had heard her, but a young mother was butting her pram against Aideen’s legs in her hurry to get off the pier. Aideen gave the man a quick smile and moved on, the touch of his blue gaze still upon her.
A block away from the pier, she passed her hand along the back of her neck and tried to rub away the unsettling effect the man’s glittering eyes had upon her. She was still rubbing at the spot when the old man she had attached herself to turned right at the first corner and she almost followed him. She pivoted back to her left and waited for the traffic to clear the crosswalk. She continued walking up the street, half expecting Kean to come up alongside her before she reached the dress shop at the second corner. But he didn’t and she had to stand in front of the store’s window feigning interest in a drab little daisy print. She doubted the store had very many customers and her suspicion was confirmed a few seconds later as the sales clerk came to the door.
/> “Lovely dress, isn’t it?” the woman asked. “You could pop in, give it a wear.”
“Uhm, no,” Aideen answered. She shifted her weight, her body involuntarily turning back toward the pier. “I don’t have the time.” She half caught the woman’s frown, her attention focused on not looking back. Time. How much had passed since she’d left the ferry?
“But the daisies would go lovely with all that pale hair you’ve got hiding under there.” The woman reached out and pulled the bucket hat from Aideen’s head.
Aideen gave a forward jump at the hat as her hair spilled around her shoulders. She snatched the hat up, her fingernails grazing the woman’s skin. Backing up, she tried to give her hair a quick twirl and cover it but she bumped into something solid and unmoving. She started to turn but a strong hand caught her by the elbow and propelled her past the clerk and into the store.
“Don’t you know that daisies are good luck?” Kean said and spun Aideen around and into a changing booth.
He tossed the hat over the booth’s door and then turned to the clerk. Aideen wound her hair into a tight knot and shoved the hat back on. She waited just inside the booth’s door and peeked through the slats. She could hear Kean sliding hangers on the racks and talking to the woman.
“But isn’t she going to try them on?” the clerk protested when he handed her a bundle of clothes.
“Just ring them up. I know her size.” His words were clipped, his voice brimming with irritation at the dangerous delay the clerk had caused. Kean opened the changing booth’s door and glanced down at Aideen’s shoes. “Six?”
“And a half,” she answered.
He gave the hat a quick tug then walked over to a display of sandals. He quickly selected a red pair and a black pair and flashed them at the clerk before shoving them in the bag. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his wallet and thumbed two hundreds from it. “Keep the change for your troubles,” he said, grabbing the bag and Aideen.
Kean and Aideen left the store and were immediately enveloped by the fog that had thickened during their impromptu shopping trip.
“It’s thick as soup,” Aideen cursed as a passerby bumped into her. She tightened her grip on Kean’s arm. “Have you ever seen it so thick?” she asked.
“On a trip to California,” he answered. “Pacific Grove. You?”
Only in Kenmare, she thought. She gave a quick, negative shake of her head. “No.”
“Well, we’ve only one more block to go,” he said and turned her down a small side street. “Of course, then we’ll be driving in it instead of walking in it.”
They walked the last block in silence. The sound of footsteps seemed to surround them but they could see only the brief flash of a dark coat or passing car. The street ended in a row of small warehouses, some no more than five meters in width with pull-down doors. Kean bent down in front of one such door, handing her the bag of newly purchased clothing before he did so. He selected a short, thick key from his chain and took the padlock off a slide bolt. He pushed the door up and the wet metal creaked its protest. On the other side, a lime green truck, rust holes eaten into its side panels, was parked. He spun around, a sheepish smile on his face.
“Not much to look at, but she’ll—” He stopped, the color draining from his face.
With one arm, Kean shoved Aideen to the side while his other hand reached behind him for the pistol still tucked into his waistband. He didn’t make it. A meaty fist smashed into his face, snapping his head backward. His body went limp, collapsing against the truck. The truck’s keys clattered against the pavement and the assailant grabbed the collar of Kean’s jacket and poised his hand to strike again. Seeing that his victim was unconscious, he pushed Kean over the truck’s gate before slowly swiveling his head to look at Aideen. His thick lips were set in a cruel grin and he reached for her. She scrambled backwards and rolled over on her hands and feet to push herself up. Another man barred her escape.
“Where you going, pretty?”
Aideen looked up into the blue eyes of the young man she had bumped into when leaving the ferry. His eyes danced with a cold flame and there was the flash of black metal in his hand. Her stomach contracted, but it was only an electronic box and not a gun. He held his hand to the device in his ear and pointed at her backpack.
“In there.” Rat-like, he looked back up the street and at the other warehouses. “Hurry.”
Aideen was lifted into the air only to be unceremoniously dropped back to the ground when Blue Eyes’ muscled accomplice unhooked the shoulder straps to her pack. He unzipped the bag, his lips smacking wetly against one another as he found the Bloodstone and lifted it into the air. Aideen felt the stone before she saw it. Her eyes followed its fiery arc as Muscles shoved the stone into his pocket. He scooped the bag of clothes up and tossed both bags into the back of the truck. Aideen heard the shift of Kean’s body as he was rolled over and the man took the pistol. He pulled the slide back and pointed the gun at Aideen.
“You should see the hole this baby makes.” The man’s smile only made his lips thicker and his tongue snaked out to lick the top lip’s inverted tip.
“Put that fucking thing away,” Blue Eyes hissed and dragged Aideen into a standing position. “Boss says he needs her.”
Aideen swayed, her head filled with the Bloodstone’s insistent hum. She felt the stone’s vibration in her throat and her body began to shake even as it swayed more heavily. Her arm stretched toward Muscles, her fingertips brushing the barrel of the gun. Her hand dropped to his belt and she pulled herself toward him…toward the stone. His mouth twisted in misunderstanding and he shifted the pistol to his other hand. He shoved her hand against his cock and rotated his hips.
“Is that what you’re reaching for, cunt?”
Her body trembled, her mouth and throat contorting as the Bloodstone drummed its rhythm into her head. She gave a guttural shriek and Blue Eyes jerked her back.
“You’re the bloody fucking cunt,” he yelled at Muscles and clamped a hand over Aideen’s mouth. “She wants the same thing Meyrick wants and it sure the fuck isn’t your pencil dick.”
Muscles’ eyes narrowed and he bobbed the barrel of the gun at Blue Eyes. “You didn’t have to get nasty about it,” he growled. Sweat dotted his brow and he pulled at the fabric of his pants, his features paling. He started to pant. “God, it’s hot. What is it?”
“Don’t ask,” Blue Eyes hissed. “Just finish the job on pretty boy before someone catches us!”
Muscles stumbled to the back of the truck. With an unsteady hand, he raised the pistol high, the barrel pointed down. Behind Aideen, Blue Eyes rose up on his toes to watch, his hand loose against Aideen’s mouth. She bit down. His scream of pained surprise was joined by Aideen’s voice, heavy with the Bloodstone’s pulse. The note built, climbed higher. Her eyes watered with pain and the back window of the truck shattered. Behind her, Blue Eyes fell to the ground. Muscles was still conscious. He was down on one knee, his breathing labored, his face a bright red, coated in perspiration. The hand clutching the gun hung uselessly at his side. His hips were twitching and Aideen could smell his flesh as it burned from the Bloodstone’s heat. She reached down with both hands, pulling the gun from his unprotesting fingers at the same time she freed the Bloodstone from his trousers.
She looked over the truck’s gate at Kean’s bloodied face. With the hand that held the stone, she felt for his pulse, relief racing through her at the faint but persistent throb. She leveled the gun at Muscles’ head. His body was quiet now, his stare blank. She placed her foot against his chest and shoved him clear of the truck’s path. She started to turn her attention back to Kean but Blue Eyes was rolling onto his side. His hands twitched along the folds of his jacket.
Aideen jerked the truck door open and jammed the oldest key on the chain into the ignition. It slid all the way in, the truck rumbling to life when she turned the key and pressed the gas pedal. She slammed on the brake pedal and clutch and put the truck in reverse, her b
rake foot hitting the accelerator once again as she let up on the clutch. The truck screamed into the street, cutting through the fog. Nearing the intersection, she slowed and swung the vehicle in a wide arc. Before she pulled onto the through street, she glanced through the shattered window at Kean. His body was still crumpled into a ball.
The Bloodstone rolled along the center of the truck’s bench seat and she scooped it up. Power surged from the stone and showed her a clear path through the fog to Flaherty’s landing field ten clicks from the center of town. She adjusted the rearview mirror until she could see Kean and then fought the gearshift into drive. The truck lurched forward, Kean’s body sliding along the bed’s length. Blinking back tears, she shifted gears, the truck picking up speed as she followed the flow of the Bloodstone’s energy.
Her gaze flicked to the mirror, hope surging when she saw Kean’s hand stretching out to clutch the ridged interior of the truck’s bed. She pressed the accelerator and the display’s speedometer needle pushed its way past one hundred kilometers per hour.
“Hold on, love,” she whispered. “I’m not going to lose you again.”
Chapter Ten
Flaherty was waiting for them when they reached the landing strip. He helped Aideen pull Kean from the truck but balked when she ordered him to help her load Kean onto the plane.
“Are you blind?” he protested and flailed his arms at the heavy mist that covered the airfield.
“It’s clear another ten kilometers out,” she assured him.
“Aideen, girl, you don’t know that.” He started to wipe at his brow with an oil-stained rag but she shoved the backpacks at him, almost knocking him off his feet with the force of her thrust.
“I do know it,” she assured him. Her polite tone was in sharp contrast to the menace clouding her face.
“That won’t help us when we hit a power line five clicks out,” he said.
Wind whipped around her, pulling the bucket hat from her head and lifting her hair until it surrounded her like white fire. She turned abruptly and pulled Kean onto her back. She started dragging him to the plane while Flaherty stared, wide-eyed, at her. She felt the heavy weight of Kean’s body lessen and she glanced back to find that Flaherty had grabbed him by the ankles. Together, they hoisted Kean through the door and placed him in the back cargo area of the plane’s tail section.
