“Reverend Kirk,” I admonished, ignoring how hot my face had gotten, “you’re a married man.”
He released my hand. “My wife has been gone a long, long time.” The waitress appeared at that moment, bearing dinner menus and an indignant scowl. “I am a widower,” Robert explained.
“Och, ye poor dear,” the waitress soothed, patting Robert’s shoulder. “Be sure ye take good care o’ your man, lassie,” she added with a wink. And my face got even hotter.
Since my blush had also dried out my throat Robert ordered for both of us, and the waitress bustled off. “Amazing. I ha’ no’ been a part o’ this world for so long, yet I can still manage a decent meal in a pub,” he murmured, shaking his head.
“What was she like?” I asked. “Your wife, I mean.”
“Wives,” he corrected. He was silent for a few moments, his dark head bent, and I wondered if I’d overstepped myself. Just as I opened my mouth to apologize, he continued. “My Isobel, me first wife, she was like a ray o’ sunshine. Ye could no’ help but laugh when ye were near her, she was always so gay.”
“She sounds like a wonderful person.”
“Aye, that she was. She had this dark hair, soft like a fall of silk, so soft you could lose yourself in it. Her eyes were deep and knowing, her skin pale as milk.” Robert glanced up. “Ye look a fair bit like her, Karina.”
“I do?”
He nodded. “That ye do.” The waitress arrived with our pints, and we drank in silence for a while.
“After she died, I was lost,” Robert continued. “I blamed everything, and everyone, for her death. Myself. The Good People, e’en. I loved her with every ounce of my being. My last act o’ lovin’ Isobel was when I carved her gravestone with me own hands.” He took a long draught of his pint. “I’d been able to see them for a good while, but after her death I began consorting with ‘em in earnest. I was certain that if I could learn just a few more o’ their secrets, I could find my way to the Summer Land and back to my Isobel.”
By the despair in his voice, I knew he’d never found her. “Could she see them too?”
“Aye. We shared everything, my Isobel and I did.” He reached across the table, this time grabbing both of my hands. “Have ye ever shared in such a connection? The feeling that the two of ye are in your own world, somehow separate from the rest? That ye be two halves of the same whole?”
“I thought I did, once,” I replied. “Turned out, he didn’t feel that way.”
“The boy what gave ye the stone?”
I nodded, and changed the subject. “Could your second wife see, too?”
Robert grunted and released my hands. “Margaret was a different woman altogether,” he said. “She had no time for anything other than the basics of life; why waste time speakin’ o’ the Good People when there is bread to be baked, she’d say. She was a good woman, and a fine wife, but practical, ye ken.”
“You didn’t love her?” I asked.
“Aye, love her I did,” he said. “I just loved her differently that I’d loved my Isobel.”
The waitress arrived with our food, a meat pie for Robert and grilled salmon for me. I’d been so shaken up by the gray monster, I hadn’t realized what he’d ordered.
Robert noticed me staring at my plate, and asked, “Is your meal no’ to your liking? I thought ye enjoyed salmon.”
“I do. I like all seafood. I’m just surprised you remembered.” I stuffed a forkful of fish in my mouth, hardly tasting it. “Are we safe here?”
“Look for yourself.”
Taking the gallowglass’s advice, I stood, and walked to the coat rack to by the door and hung up my jacket, sweeping my gaze across the other patrons as I did so. There were none of the unhuman sort in attendance, and there was absolutely nothing in the pub like the gray monster, thank all the gods ever.
“Well?” Robert asked, once I’d returned. “Report, please.”
“All clear,” I proclaimed. Now I could enjoy my salmon.
“Did ye happen to glance behind the bar?”
I looked toward the bar, and almost dropped my fork. There was a woman—a fairy woman—pulling pints. Her long, yellow hair—not blonde, but a bright, glaring yellow like a buttercup—had pink blossoms woven into it, and her skin was a bluish white, like the crag of an iceberg. She smiled at one of the customers, revealing dozens of tiny, gemlike teeth.
She caught me staring, and a cold sweat bloomed across my shoulder blades. I lifted my pint in the universally acknowledged gesture for a refill; somehow, I kept my hand from trembling. She jerked her chin toward Robert, and I nodded. While she filled the pint glasses, I drained what was left in mine.
“Good job, lass,” Robert said, when I lowered my glass. “Ye need to be quick o’ mind, and able to out think—”
He stopped abruptly as the Ice Princess approached. She set down our new pints and collected the empty glasses.
“Everything to your liking?” she asked.
“The food is excellent,” Robert replied. “Thank you.”
“Good. Yell if ye be needin’ anything,” she said, and the fey woman disappeared through a swinging door into the kitchen.
“Why work in a pub?” I wondered. “Why work at all?”
Robert shrugged. “Amusement, most likely.” With that, he tucked into his meat pie, and we passed the time speaking about non-fairy subjects.
By the time our food was gone, and we’d switched from beer to whisky, the prospect of seeing the inhuman among us seemed downright dandy to me. If the Ice Princess hadn’t been so attentive to our needs I’d have interrogated Robert about them something good. Since we were limited in subject matter, I settled on his love life.
“So why’d you marry Margaret?” He raised an eyebrow, so I elaborated, “I mean, you loved Isobel so much.”
“That I did.” He swirled the liquid in his glass; he was drinking his whisky straight, but I had ice in mine. I liked the clinky sounds. “Still, ‘tis unnatural for a man to be alone. We are meant to take mates, ye ken? If the Good Lord had no’ meant for us to pair off, he would no’ have given us bodies that fit so well together.”
Despite my mateless life, I nodded. “Have you married again?”
“And who would I have married?” he countered. “I became the gallowglass to avoid bein’ Nicnevin’s consort. ‘Tis no like anyone wi’ half a brain would risk steppin’ on her toes.”
“Wait.” I placed my hands flat on the table, bracing myself. “Are you saying that you’ve been, um, alone since then?”
Ice blue eyes met mine. “That is the truth, lass.”
I flopped back against the booth. “Wow.” I mean, I’d heard of, and experienced, some rather epic dry spells, but this was unreal. “You might as well be a priest, huh?”
Robert scowled, and tossed back the rest of his whisky. “Come along, lass,” he grumbled. “’Tis long past time I should ha’ gotten ye home.”
We walked toward the door, but unfortunately for Robert I’d gone into full on babble mode. “Do you want me to help you find a girl? Chris has lots of pick-up lines. Although, most of them don’t work, so you probably shouldn’t use them.” We stepped out into the cool evening air, and I shivered. “My jacket!”
I reentered the pub and grabbed my jacket, waving a final goodbye at the Ice Princess. Maybe all fairies weren’t so bad. Maybe I could even make a few fairy friends, and go out for a gambol on the grassy knoll with them. That would be fun, and I bet they’d bring the beer or mead or whatever fairies drink. As I stepped out onto the street as I slipped on my jacket, I bumped right into it.
The gray monster.
Since I’d already made contact with it, and there was no way I could pretend I hadn’t. I fought the urge to look up, to see its face, meet its eyes. They eyes were probably the worst, dark and burning like vortexes to hell. I trembled, certain that it was going to kill me, and pick its teeth with my bones.
“Karina!”
I looked to the left; there
was Robert, feet planted and his arms crossed over his chest, scowling at me. “You’re drunk, lass. Get a move on.”
I nodded, and sidestepped the beast as I made a beeline toward Robert. He took my elbow, all the while complaining loudly about how I was so inebriated I could hardly navigate an empty street. Me, I kept my mouth shut. If I opened it, I would scream.
Once we were safely inside the cottage, Robert pulled me into his arms. I was shaking so hard I couldn’t speak, tears streaming down my face.
“There, there, Karina lass,” he murmured. “’Twas no’ your fault. Beastie snuck right up on ye, he did.”
I burrowed into his safe, warm arms, seeking a haven from what I’d seen. “When can I stop seeing them?” Robert stiffened, so I elaborated, “I mean, I know you said that the ointment’s permanent, but there must be an antidote, right? A counter-spell or something?”
He was silent for a time, then he tightened his arms around me. “No, lass,” he murmured. “There isn’t.”
Chapter Ten
Chris
After the pub closed down Sorcha and I stumbled out to the sidewalk, our arms wound tight around each other. I don’t know how we’d gotten so utterly, smashingly drunk; we hadn’t gone up to the bar, and no server came by after Sorcha sat across from me. Maybe one had, a server that brought fresh whisky and refilled our pints, and I’d forgotten. All I remembered was Sorcha, sitting across from me and smiling. I pulled her close, and kissed her.
I blinked at the early morning light. When had the sun risen? Had we been standing here, kissing in the street, for half the night? Did we really have to stop? I could have kissed her forever.
A passerby yelled for us to get a room. I broke free from Sorcha to offer my own witty, if somewhat late, comeback, but the street was empty. I turned back around, the air thick like a dream, and was nearly blinded by golden glow.
Was that the sun?
No. The glow was coming from her.
Sorcha.
At that moment her back was to me, her dark hair a river of night against the rising sun. I was certain that I’d never see a more beautiful sight as long as I lived.
“Have we really been talking all night?” I wondered aloud.
“We have,” Sorcha replied, leaning her back against my chest.
I caught her in my arms, and spun her about. “Spend the day with me,” I murmured, kissing a path from her cheek to her neck.
“I cannot,” she said.
“Why?” I asked. Sorcha placed her hand on my chest, looked up through her thick, dark lashes.
“I have many obligations,” she purred. “Do you not have matters that require your attention?”
“I can’t think of a single thing I have to do that’s more important than this,” I replied, my lips against hers. “Sorcha,” I breathed, tasting, experiencing her name. I backed her against the brick wall of the pub, trapping her between my arms. “Tell me that I’ll see you again.”
“You’re seeing me now,” she purred.
“I need more of you,” I insisted.
“Then meet me here tonight,” Sorcha said.
“In the pub?”
“No, right here. This very spot.” Sorcha took my hands, holding them against her breast. “Promise me that, no matter what, you will come to me.”
“I promise.”
Sorcha tilted her head up and pressed her lips to mine; I noticed that her mouth was sweet, like nectar. Sweeter than anything I’d ever tasted. I forgot that we were standing in the street, that my careers as both a professor and an author were ruined, that Olivia was gone. All I knew was Sorcha.
Chapter Eleven
Karina
I shifted, awake but not yet ready to open my eyes. Slowly, I became aware of a crick in my neck, and a corresponding ache in my side. My toes wiggled, and I realized I was still wearing my boots, which was just weird. I only slept in my boots during field work in areas where snakes were common, and I did not make a habit of working in snake-prone areas.
I shifted again, and realized that my head was resting on something that felt like denim, or maybe it was flannel; it was firm, far firmer than a pillow or a cushion, but welcoming to my tear-swollen head. Comfortable. And, whatever my face was against smelled…nice. No, nice was an understatement. This pillow smelled downright decadent.
I blinked my eyes open, and saw that Robert and I were on the couch, him sitting up and me snuggled into the crook of his arm. That soft pillow was nothing more than his flannel-clad shoulder, which was also the source of the amazing, earthy scent. For a few moments I was content. Then I spied a drool mark on his shirt, and was completely and totally mortified.
“Are ye awake, then?” Robert murmured, thus confirming that he was also awake, and removing all chances of me sneaking away to my room.
“Good morning,” I said, placing my hand against his chest and covering the wet mark. No need to reveal all of my secrets before coffee.
“’Tis barely light,” Robert said, then he grazed his thumb across my cheek. “Your tears have stopped.”
“Um, yeah.” Good. He thought I’d been crying, not drooling. Crying was light years better than drooling. “Why are we on the couch?”
“We took a moment to sit, and ye collapsed against me,” he explained. “I would ha’ carried ye to your bed, but I did no’ wish to wake ye.”
All at once I remembered the wort, the Ice Princess in the pub, the gray monster. I could still feel the monster’s flesh where I’d bumped into it, cold and clammy and covered with the nastiest scabs I’d ever imagined; no, I had never imagined anything like that nightmare. It had been disgusting, like the contents of a walking biohazard container. Thank God I hadn’t been stupid enough to look up and see its face; its eyes must have been truly terrifying.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I whispered. “They’re horrifying. I… You were right. I’m sorry I made you put the wort on me.”
“Lass,” Robert murmured, tightening his arms around me. It was then that I realized that I hadn’t moved away from him once I’d woken. I was holding him as if he were my lifeline. “Karina lass. Ye are a brave one, that’s for certain. Can ye just continue to be brave when ye are around them?”
“I… I don’t know.”
Robert frowned a bit, then he sighed. “I believe ye can,” he murmured.
As I watched his face, his impossibly pale blue eyes and his tousled dark hair, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to do anything for him, just to make him proud of me. Knowing that I needed to put some distance between us before something unplanned and irrevocable happened, I unwound myself from his body and stretched. I shivered, having lost the heat of him.
“I’m going to bed,” I declared. “Thank you, for sitting with me.”
He nodded, those blue eyes searching mine. Being that I’d given all I could, at least for the time being, I retreated to my room and closed the door. Maybe Robert was wrong, and the wort would wear off. Maybe I’d wake up tomorrow morning, and realize that all this fairy nonsense had been nothing more than a dream.
I’ve never been good at lying to myself.
Chapter Twelve
Karina
The morning after the gray monster incident, I hid under the blankets until my stupid bladder forced me to get out of bed. Robert let me pass in silence on my way to the bathroom, but he pounced on me once I emerged.
“Here, lass,” he said, thrusting a mug of tea under my nose. I guess he’d conquered the many nuances of the electric kettle. I looked past him to the table, and saw a pile of slightly burnt toast resting on a chipped earthenware plate. Two appliances in one day, then. Not bad. “Something hot in your belly will do ye a world o’ good.”
I took the mug, and let the warmth seep into my fingers. After a few sips, I asked, “How do you do it?”
Robert’s brow furrowed. “Do what, now?”
“Walk among them like it’s nothing. How can you ignore it all?” My voice cracked at the end, and
I sat on one of the kitchen chairs and leaned my elbows on the table. “You were right, they’re terrible, horrible beasts. I don’t know why I wanted to see them. I wish we’d never made that ointment.”
Robert claimed the chair across from me. “There, now, most are no’ so bad,” he soothed. “The one in the pub, the one ye called Ice Princess? She treated us right well, did she not?” I nodded, and snuffled a bit. Robert snatched a tea towel, and placed it before me.
“Now lass, I will no’ lie to you,” he said while I wiped my cheeks. “Most o’ the Good People are nothing like that gray monster, though some are a fair bit worse. However, most are just creatures like you and I, living their lives and going on about their business, no more of a threat to ye than a squirrel or a rabbit.”
I peeked at him over the tea towel. “Really?”
“Really. And,” he added, as he poured himself some tea, “that gray beast gave me a sound fright, o’ that ye can be sure. While I have seen such creatures many times o’er the years, I do no’ believe I shall ever be ‘used to’ those sort o’ monsters, as ye say.”
That admission was more comforting than the tea. “You were at the Seelie Court for what, over three hundred years?” I asked, and he nodded. Wow. If Robert hadn’t gotten used to them after such a long time, I had no hope of doing so in the fifty or so years I had left. “How are you even still alive?”
Robert shrugged. “’Tis a combination o’ factors. First, time moves differently there, in Elphame. As such, none o’ the Good People age as regularly as we do. Then there is Nicnevin’s elixir to consider.”
“Elixir?” I repeated. I’d studied elixirs as part of my alchemy coursework. “Is that like the elixir vitae?”
Robert smiled, skin crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “Aye, ‘tis that exactly. The elixir burns away one’s mortality, and, if one is no’ careful, their will as well.”
Gallowglass Page 8
