The Book of Eden

by Alex Temples

  Chapter Fifteen

  Four shots of whisky later, I had my arm propped up on the bar. My chin rested on my hand. I listened as Daryl described the difference between several types of whisky casks, only I wasn’t really paying attention anymore, just staring at his lips and wondering what it might be like to kiss him.

  He had very nice lips, and they said so many nice, uncomplicated things. I mean, the man made whisky, and he had this rugged Scotsman thing going on. It was no wonder Sam was crazy for that show about the woman who accidentally fell back in time to Highlands Scotland.

  I realized Daryl has stopped talking and forced myself to tear my gaze away from his lips and look up into his ice-blue eyes.

  “Hmm.” I made an interested sound, hoping he hadn’t asked me a question.

  Daryl gave me a heavy-lidded stare. “Did you enjoy tasting my whiskies?” He asked.

  I had enjoyed tasting his whiskies. All four of them. I was feeling it too. It was probably almost time to meet Tristan.

  “Yes, they were very good. Thank you. In fact, I think I’ll have one more.”

  “Aye? That’s a lot of drink for a wee lassie such as yerself.” He said, eying me uncertainly.

  I gestured to Johnny, who came over.

  “What can I do for ye, lassie? Some food perhaps?”

  “No. I’ll take another Macallan, please.”

  Johnny raised an eyebrow in Daryl’s direction.

  “Now the lassie she’s saiks drinks into the wee bottle, Daryl, don’t yeh think we should cut her off?”

  “Alright, alright, gentlemen, no need to debate further. I get the message. If you’ll excuse me, I must go to the ladies’ room.”

  Daryl nodded. “Certainly, haste ye back.”

  I wasn’t positive, but I thought he’d asked me to hurry back. What do you know, a few more days here and I might be able to understand more than half of what he was said. Chuckling to myself, I walked somewhat clumsily to the ladies’ room.

  I used the restroom and turned to the mirror. With a frown, I snagged a paper towel, and took a moment to clean up my smudged eyeshadow. I gave my reflection a satisfied nod. My cheeks were flushed red, along with my scotch-swollen lips. I almost looked sexy.

  I pushed the door open, only to find Daryl waiting for me in the hallway.

  “Ohh, you’re here.” I stuttered.

  He saw my uncertainty and laughed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ye, it’s just I have to get back to my room so I can take a business call, but I was hoping ye might walk with me.” He said, extended his arm in the old-fashioned manner of a gentleman.

  I relaxed. He was ending our night? Hmm. I guess I’d read him wrong. He’d seemed like a man on the hunt when he’d first spotted me at the bar. I’d clearly misread the situation. Too bad. I was in just the right mood to have enjoyed being hunted – angry with Aiden, frustrated with the situation I was in and hungry for an escape.

  I supposed it was just as well. I had work to focus on too. Feeling a little better about how much I’d overindulged, I nodded and took his arm.

  “Oh, wait, I haven’t paid my tab.” I said, turning back in the direction of the restaurant.

  “Dinnae fash yerself, lassie. I already took care of it.” Daryl called after me.

  “Oh.” I stopped and turned to face him. “Why did you do that?”

  He smiled, blue eyes glittering. “Because yer a nice pairsun and I’ve enjoyed yer company.” His tone was sincere and I flushed with pleasure, smiling back at him.

  Oh, that leather jacket he wore was doing a number on me. A hint of danger, and I was all in these days. I tilted my head to the side and gave him an assessing look.

  “You’re just genuinely a nice person, aren’t you?”

  He laughed. “I dinnae ken about that.”

  I laughed and took his arm.

  We walked around the first floor. He played tour guide, pointing out interesting things about the building and regaling me with tales of his childhood growing up on a sheep farm. We discussed his work and how it sometimes took him to the states. Impulsively, I offered to give him a tour of the city next time he was in Washington. He’d laughed and accepted, on the condition that I buy the round of drinks next time.

  The lobby was crowded, as was the main stairwell, so we took a smaller servant’s staircase up to my floor.

  “Well, this is me.” I said as we arrived at my door.

  “Aye. Weel, Twas very good to meet you, Brin.” He said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

  I bit my lip nervously as my face tingled ever so slightly where he’d touched me.

  “It was good to meet you too.” I said sincerely.

  “I hope I can see you again sometime. Perhaps in Washington.”

  I nodded silently, unsure of what to say next. Then, I stood on my tip toes and kissed him softly on the cheek. He smelled like whisky and something woody. Aargh, why did I have to kiss him? It had all felt like innocent flirting until my lips had touched his cheek. Now my body was humming with energy, anticipating more. Damn hormones.

  He seemed surprised when I pulled back to look at him again. There was something dark in his eyes I’d seen flashes of earlier. We stood in the hallway staring at each other, and then he pulled me into him and his lips crushed against mine. He kissed me thoroughly before stepping back with a bow and heading back down the hall.

  “What the hell is going on, Brin?”

  I spun around, startled. Tristan stood in the hallway, wearing tailored pants and a dark shirt. He was pissed.

  I glanced back the other way, but Daryl was gone.

  “I don’t know.” I said, honestly. What the hell had that been? A date? No. I just had a few drinks with a stranger. No big deal, right?

  “You looked like you were getting to know him pretty well.” Tristan shot back with an accusatory stare.

  Wait a second, why is Tristan angry? He isn’t my boyfriend. He isn’t my father. I’m a grown woman.

  “That is none of your business now, is it?” I shot back.

  Tristan hesitated, his anger wavering for a moment. Whatever other reaction he’d been considering, the anger won. He raised his head and met my eyes.

  “Well, if that’s how you feel about me caring what happens to you, then I don’t suppose it is my business. You’ll excuse me, for being concerned with you hanging out alone with a strange man in a city you don’t know. In the last few months, I’ve witnessed you narrowly escape death on more than one occasion.” He paced back and forth across the hall, gesturing in the air. “Hell Brin, you’re still recovering from the wrath of the dark rider’s sword. Not to mention the fact that it could very easily have been you in your apartment when the dark fae broke in. If it had been you, they wouldn’t have just tapped you on the head and left you alone. They would have taken you, Brin, and I don’t know if I’d be able to get you back.”

  I swallowed as the weight of his words sunk into me. I was being careless. What’s wrong with me? I took a step towards him, swaying slightly.

  He stepped forward to grab my arm before I could fall.

  “Are you drunk?” He asked, sounding disgusted.

  “I’m not drunk.” I argued, feeling the last of the scotch kicking in. Okay. I might be a little drunk.

  Tristan didn’t say anything. He pulled out a hotel key and helped me into my room. When I made it to the bed and sat down on the edge, he turned to go.

  “Wait, Tristan.”

  He froze, but didn’t turn around.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He turned then, studying me.

  “I shouldn’t have made you worry. It wasn’t fair, and I shouldn’t have been drinking with a strange man either. It didn’t mean anything. He was just a nice guy, and…” I paused, shifting uncomfortably. I kicked off my black pumps and tucked me feet underneath me before continuing.

  “He kissed me. I only intended to kiss him on the cheek, and…” My voice trailed off.

 
; Tristan’s brow was furrowed as he considered me. He glanced down at the floor before seeming to come to a decision. He moved back towards the bed and knelt in front of me.

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you. You’re right, it wasn’t my place.”

  There was something in his eyes that unsettled me. I studied him, realizing I didn’t appreciate him as much as I should. He and his brother were polar-opposites, but alike in their dedication to protecting family and friends.

  Tristan was a blonde, where Aiden’s hair was almost black. Tristan’s eyes were a melding of colors to Aiden’s crystal blue. Tristan was responsible and level-headed where Aiden was careless and impulsive. Tristan was a man of honor. He always carried out his duties as charged, protect those who needed protecting, tending to their needs before worrying about his own.

  Aiden loved chaos, he wanted to be right in the middle of it. He genuinely cared about people as well. I knew he loved his brother, his mother, perhaps even me, but he didn’t know how to turn away from the fire when it lured him. He was ruled by his passions, and too often the people around him became collateral damage.

  Tristan cared for me.

  I hadn’t seen it before, had assumed it was a brotherly caring, or simply part of his dedication to protecting me, but as he knelt there in front of me, I saw it. He did his best to hide it. Because Tristan was a man of honor. I thought, feeling like a complete idiot for not having noticed sooner. Unlike his brother, he hadn’t run away from me twice in six months. That wasn’t who he was.

  I shifted forward letting my legs slide off the edge of the bed, which put my face a few inches from Tristan’s. His expression was earnest.

  “No.” I shook my head. “That’s not true. It is your place. I never should have been so careless.”

  He stilled, sensing I had more to say.

  I was done talking though. I had to see if there was something there, or if I’d imagined the flicker in his eyes.

  I moved my mouth to his and kissed him softly.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The sound of the ferry pulling away from the dock made it all the way to the other side of the little station where we waited for our taxi. It had been a very long, very quiet train ride from Edinburgh to Oban, followed by a reasonable and slightly less awkward ferry ride to Mull.

  We’d just disembarked from our second ferry of the day, arriving on Iona only to discover that taxis were hard to come by during the tourist season. The island was quite small. They didn’t allow non-residents to bring cars over, so when it was tourist season, the taxis stayed busy.

  After fifteen minutes, a taxi finally pulled up. Eager to escape the silence, Tristan and I climbed in enthusiastically.

  “Good afternoon to ye.” Said the portly driver. “Where would ye like to go?”

  “Iona Abbey, please.” I replied.

  “Ach, another one to see the abbey, eh? Tis a popular place this morning. I just dropped off a young lady there, a red head such as yurself.”

  Hmm. Interesting. Well, I reasoned, it was a small island, and probably one of the few attractions. It was unlikely to be a dark fae since she’d arrived before us. Without the Book of Invasions, the dark fae wouldn’t have known where to look.

  “Well, we hear it is quite a stunning building, and with so much history.” Tristan said.

  “Yes, verra much so. St. Columba picked a beautiful place to build his abbey, but if ye think the abbey is striking, you’ll be amazed at the beauty to be found at Sìthean Mòr, just to the South. Now there is a beautiful and magical place. St. Columba prayed on this hill, and it is said that one evening near sunset, a boy saw St. Columba praying, surrounded by the light of angels.”

  I smiled. Clearly the old man loved his home. “It sounds lovely, but I’m not sure we’ll have time to stop there.” I said apologetically. “We’ve just enough time to see the abbey and get back to the station in time for the last ferry.”

  The driver nodded in understanding. “Yes, of course. It tis getting close to sunset. We were all quite frustrated when they decided to stop offering late evening ferry service. Cutting the city budget ye see.” He offered with a huff. “Those damned politicians.”

  Tristan and I smiled at each other. It didn’t take long before we came to a road leading to the abbey. We thanked the driver and asked if he would return to pick us up in a couple hours. He agreed amiably, bidding us farewell and offering a warning that we’d better have our jackets out, as the wind kicked up early evening.

  “Alright then, where shall we start?” I asked, as we both turned to stare at the abbey. The towering stone building loomed over us, feeling more like a castle than a church. Behind it, crystal water sparkled. The surrounding hill were bright green. What a location.

  “Let’s start in the church.” Tristan suggested.

  I nodded and we made our way towards the entrance. Outside the door sat a long, thin stone, carved into a basin and filled with water. Curious, I kneeled to read the plaque next to it. According to the small sign, it was a basin where pilgrims could wash their feet before entering the church.

  Well, if the foot washing rock had survived hundreds of years, it stood to reason that other relics from St. Columba’s time also had. The topic was one Tristan and I had debated on and off since we’d arrived in Scotland.

  What if nothing survived from Columba’s time? How would we find the missing pages of the book? Tristan wasn’t worried. I was.

  Iona abbey was built upon the site where St. Columba’s monastery once stood. The monastery was a rustic, mostly wood affair, built during the end of the 6th century by Columba and his followers. Unfortunately, it had suffered many Viking raids during its time, losing many of the relics and religious artifacts it protected. The current abbey was a 13th century building. We knew we wouldn’t find the papers in the modern structure, but we had hope that some structure or remnant of the original monastery had survived. That was our goal – to find anything that had existed in the 6th century.

  That goal in mind, we followed a cluster of tourists clutching audio guides through the stone arch leading into the abbey. After being out in the glaring light of day, it was like ducking into a cave. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim interior. We were surrounded by rugged stone walls. A central aisle led to an altar, upon which a red candle flickered. Rows and rows of chairs lined each side of the aisle. The smell of stone and dampness reached my nose. It was a quiet, peaceful little room, with none of the usual heaviness I generally felt in churches.

  A few of the tourists had stopped to sit and pray near the altar. An older couple holding hands, and a young red headed woman wearing a crimson windbreaker. She must be the one the taxi driver had dropped off before us.

  Tristan and I glanced at each other. He jerked his head to the left, indicated another exit. We wouldn’t find anything in this room.

  We walked through a doorway and found ourselves in a central courtyard. The cloisters were lined with pillars, forming a small square around a patch of grass. In the center stood a statue of a woman and a dove. The sun hit it, casting a shadow behind the woman. It reminded me our time here was limited. If we didn’t locate the papers in the next hour or so, we’d never be able to make it back in time for the last ferry. We’d be stranded for the night.

  We wandered the courtyard, stopping to glance at a few things as we circled it. We spent the next hour examining every nook and crevice of the abbey. I even bit the bullet and got one of the audio guides, hoping it would offer some helpful hint. At one point, I thought for sure I’d stumbled upon the right hiding place when it began talking about St. Columba’s shrine.

  The shrine pre-dated the current church, and was thought to be the place St. Columba was entombed. It was a tiny room. The ceiling stood only a few inches above Tristan’s head. We’d examined every inch of it, hovering over the wall lined with old crosses and carvings, thinking that perhaps there was a secret cubby protecting the papers. Nothing.

  “What are
we looking for?” I asked Tristan, as we ducked back through the entrance. My voice was full of frustration, an unproductive emotion perhaps, but I was cold and tired, and we were running out of time.

  He glanced back at me, looking like he was about to say something encouraging. Instead he let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know Brin. I’d hoped when we got here, we would see something obvious, or perhaps we’d have felt the magic protecting the pages.” He shook his head.

  I opened my mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the sound of Tristan’s phone going off. It rang loudly, echoing across the surrounding stone. Tristan glanced at the screen and then up at me in apology. I sighed and sunk down on a small stone bench to wait.

  He glanced around the see if any of the tourists were around before answering it. We were alone. He spoke in hushed tones with whoever was on the other side, his face going expressionless as he listened. I perked up when he began frowning, staring intently off into the courtyard. I knew that expression.

  Dread twisted in my gut and I stood up, walking over to put my hand on his arm. What if Oren were injured again? I bit my lip, willing Tristan to look at me, but he continued talking to the person on the line, speaking in a language I didn’t understand, but recognized as being of Celtic origin.

  Edenese was the language of the fae. It still sounded strange to my ears. Close to Irish, but not quite right, an alien sound both ancient and familiar. It was like going back to your childhood home after decades away. You’d known it intimately and saw past the changes time had wrought, the nostalgia seeping into you as forgotten memories sprung up, but it wasn’t quite right. It didn’t belong to you anymore, and thus you were left torn by the desire that things be as they once were, and the realization that the present was as it should be. I shivered, simultaneously wishing I could understand what he was saying and glad that I could not.

  I pushed away the what ifs creeping into my mind and tried to focus on the task at hand. When he was off the phone, he’d tell me. Until then, I’d continue exploring the abbey.

  I looked around the cloisters once more, but the pillars had nothing to offer us. It wasn’t here. It wouldn’t be. I don’t know why we’d thought it would be that easy, just show up and suddenly find some enchanted papers that had eluded both the light and dark fae for centuries.