Innocent Darkness

by Suzanne Lazear

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “As you said yourself, you leaving the school could get you in trouble. What if your mother doesn’t understand?”

  Noli erased the terrifying thought from her mind. After all, it was her mama. No mother would want her daughter to be abused and beaten—even in the name of propriety.

  “She will.” If not, she’d go to Jeff.

  “I took the liberty of running you a bath and finding you something else to wear.” The blanket fell around her waist and he eyed her gown critically. Kevighn handed her the bundle.

  Again, she bit her tongue to keep from saying thank you. “I’d like that.”

  “Excellent.” He smiled. This one reached all the way to his eyes. “It’s the room across the hall with the open door. When you’re finished, come to the kitchen. I have a surprise.”

  Kevighn sat at the kitchen table nursing a cup of something much stronger than tea. What possessed him to bring Magnolia here, to his private home, his refuge?

  Never had he brought any of the girls here—not even Annabelle. Certainly, the queen would be unhappy he hadn’t brought Magnolia straight to the palace.

  Magnolia reminded him of Creideamh. Silly, really, because the mortal girl didn’t physically resemble his baby sister at all. His thoughts towards the mortal were hardly brotherly. They never were towards the chosen girls. He usually took it upon himself to … personally ensure they had a satisfying stay in the Otherworld.

  He’d also given Magnolia one of Creideamh’s dresses. That, too, smacked of poor judgment, something he could ill afford right now. What would he do next? Unlock Creideamh’s room and allow the mortal girl to stay there?

  Of course not. Once he put the girl at ease, in the guise of seeking information they’d go to the palace. When she saw the palace, she’d be so amazed by its wonders she’d never want to leave, just like the all others.

  Yet this girl was different—smarter, sharper, quicker than his usual quarry. On past hunts he’d occasionally run across girls like her, but passed them over for more malleable prey. He’d have to be careful with this one. Right now the magic hadn’t even begun to bind her—though even that hadn’t helped with Annabelle in the end.

  Annabelle. Sighing, Kevighn drained his cup and refilled it from the bottle on the table. Never before had any of the girls committed suicide to escape being the sacrifice. Annabelle hadn’t even been the sharpest of his victims. Her actions devastated his ego, his reputation. After all, he’d been the queen’s huntsman for a long time.

  Yes, he hardly needed something to go wrong again, especially with the magic already so unstable. It would destroy them all. For good.

  So much rode on this girl. On him. Still, he wasn’t ready to care about anyone again, not really. Why had he brought her here?

  Footsteps drew him from his ruminations. Looking up, he exhaled sharply, feeling as if he’d been punched in the gut. The dark blue of Creideamh’s dress made Magnolia’s steel eyes and creamy complexion glow. A little long, it otherwise fit perfectly.

  It also complemented her dark hair. Those headscarves she always wore hid its splendid curliness. He could easily imagine tangling his fingers in that glorious, long hair.

  The mere thought made his trousers tight. Actually, for a mortal, Magnolia was quite pretty. That, too, made him glad he sat. It wouldn’t do to frighten her. Like with the others, he’d win her trust first, then seduce her.

  “I’m glad the dress fit.” He took another drink, suddenly unsure why he’d given her Creideamh’s dress. But it wasn’t as if he possessed a supply of gowns, dresses, and feminine fripperies as they did at the palace. If he planned on keeping her here, he’d have to make due.

  What would his little sister think of a mortal wearing her clothing?

  Actually, Creideamh would have dressed Magnolia in her best dress, then fixed her hair. She had a soft spot for mortals.

  The look Magnolia gave him wasn’t grateful, but skeptical. “Who did it belong to?”

  The question took him aback. Clever girl. He’d need to tread lightly. “My sister. Don’t fret, she won’t mind.”

  Her inquisitive steel eyes flashed. “She painted the picture in your room.”

  Again, her words surprised him. “Indeed. Please, sit.” He stood. “Let me make some tea.” He busied himself, making her a cup of tea hoping she asked no more questions about Creideamh. “Everything was to your satisfaction?” “It was quite nice.”

  Interesting. By now most mortal girls would have thanked him many times. She’d readily accepted the existence of the small faeries and the Otherworld. But not blindly. Her eyes read like a book as she weighed and analyzed everything with her sharp mind.

  As the water boiled, he set a bowl of fresh, ripe berries on the table. “I found these in the garden this morning and thought you’d like them for breakfast.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Really?” She bit her lip and looked at him through veiled lashes. “How … thoughtful.”

  “No berries at school?” He took a cup down from the cupboard, not missing how her face darkened like a storm cloud. “It was a horrid place, wasn’t it?” He spooned the herbs into a tiny metal net and put it in the cup. Taking the kettle off the stove, he poured in the boiling water. When he set it in front of her, he spied quiet tears running down her face.

  Pulling the chair next to her, he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. She seemed uncomfortable at first. “You’re safe now. They can’t hurt you here.”

  After awhile she calmed down, growing used to his touch. She sat up and took a sip of her tea, expression determined. “I’m never going back.”

  Kevighn had heard that before. He’d helped girls escape everything from abusive marriages to the lion pit. “Would you like to tell me about it?”

  “Not right now.” She looked into the depths of the cup.

  “Of course.” He needed to lighten the mood, quickly. She looked out the kitchen window as she absently sipped her tea. “See anything you like?”

  “I like gardens.” She smiled shyly, probably spying Creideamh’s gardens which had long since gone to seed.

  The palace had splendid gardens beyond a mortal’s imagination. Personally, he’d always preferred Creideamh’s. “After breakfast why don’t you explore while I do some research.” She beamed. Excellent. Hopefully by supper she’d have forgotten all about going home.

  Thirteen

  Seeds and Seedlings

  “Still working, Magnolia?” Kevighn walked into the garden holding a basket in his hand. A few days ago the garden was naught but tangled wilds.

  “Of course.” Her voice came from someplace near the roses. He’d noticed she had an extreme fondness for roses. She possessed a knack for plants—and fixing things. Also, she unconsciously did little things to make the cabin feel like a real home again.

  It would be too easy to get used to this.

  He made his way towards her voice, taking in the progress she’d made. She’d weeded, replanted, pruned, and sheared. Once again, the window boxes held flowers; the kitchen garden orderly, filled with fragrant herbs and vegetable seedlings. The roses and hedges sat in neat rows. In another week you’d never know it had been abandoned. No. Another week was out of the question. Kevighn hadn’t expected it to take this long. The magic should have chosen her by now, marking her, binding her irreversibly as the sacrifice. But the binding hadn’t even started—perhaps, because unlike the other girls, she hadn’t yet decided she belonged here. Once she acknowledged that, the magic would accept her.

  Instead, Noli pestered him several times a day about returning to Los Angeles. If she didn’t stop soon, he’d run out of diversions, not to mention it grew irritating. Schooling his face into a smile, he clutched the basket containing today’s distraction. He’d found out how to take her home, but he wasn’t going to. However, he couldn’t tell her the truth either. Instead, he made like he went to research, t
hen found something to distract her when he didn’t give her the information she wanted. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too much longer for her to decide she belonged here, then the magic would bind her, and her annoying questions would cease.

  In the vegetable garden she worked, wearing a brown skirt and blouse of Creideamh’s, hair tied back with a scarf, up to her elbows in dirt. More dirt streaked her pretty face. Looking up from her task, she grinned, the smile lighting up her face like the moons lit up the night.

  He grinned back, this one genuine. Kevighn liked seeing her happy.

  “Any luck?” She sat on her heels, a weed in one hand as she looked at him with expectant eyes.

  He suppressed a sigh, careful to not let his voice, expression, or posture let her know how tiring he found her questions. Distraction time. “Not yet. But I found this while researching.”

  Her beautiful steel-colored eyes glimmered with excitement as he held out the basket. She carefully folded back the cloth and made little girlish squeals of delight.

  “They’re beautiful, Kevighn.” Her smile shy, his name played hesitantly on her lips. He’d had difficulty getting her to use it.

  “They’re called star blooms, they bloom at night. I have pink, purple, and blue. They’re rare.” And taken from the palace greenhouse. Every visit to the palace or to some place even remotely public to find things to delight Magnolia held the risk of someone seeing him and reporting his whereabouts to the queen. If he took much longer, she’d look for him.

  The queen would want an update, to meet her. Sweet Magnolia wasn’t quite ready to meet the ruler of the Otherworld.

  Certainly, he wasn’t ready for them to meet.

  He liked having the mortal girl about—a dangerous notion. This situation necessitated caution. It would be too easy to become attached her.

  Already he found himself going beyond mere diversion, seeking out things that would truly amaze and delight her. She possessed this extra bit of charisma that made her difficult to resist—hence, him taking rare seedlings from the royal greenhouse without permission.

  For some reason, blooms, not dresses, and herbs, not jewels, pleased this girl. Nevertheless, herbs and flowers were easier to obtain without drawing attention. He also knew a little bit about plants because of his sister.

  “Where do you wish to plant these?” he asked.

  “Oh, I know.” Putting the basket in the crook of her arm, she stood, absently wiping the dirt from her hands onto her apron. “I found the most wondrous place today.” Her eyes glimmered with excitement.

  Noli took off, going deeper into the garden. He followed, curious to see what she’d found. When they’d crossed the barrier between Creideamh’s little garden and the woods surrounding the cottage he knew exactly where they headed.

  Uneasiness crept through him. He hadn’t told Magnolia not to go into the woods. With the enchantments on this place, she couldn’t leave the grounds unless he wished, anyway.

  Despite this, anger consumed him as they entered the little grove. Creideamh’s dominion.

  “I don’t want you to come here. You have no right to be here,” he snapped as he reached out to yank her away from this sacred place.

  “Ow.” Magnolia stumbled as he dragged her away. She fell to the ground, coming out of his firm grip.

  So focused was he on getting this mere mortal away from his sister’s sanctuary, it took him a moment to realize she no longer remained in his clutches. His focus shattered the moment he turned. Magnolia sat crumpled in the dirt, cradling her arm. Tears streamed down her dirty face. Curls escaped from the brown scarf.

  Regret stabbed him. What had he done?

  Little balls of colored light surrounded the girl like a rainbow guard, comforting her. The tiny beings loved her so much.

  When he approached, several swarmed, trying to fend him off. “Please, let me pass,” he told them. “I … I didn’t mean to.”

  He put out a hand, but either Magnolia didn’t see it through her tears or ignored it.

  Not that he blamed her.

  One little faery zoomed at him with a tiny stick. He caught the bugger with one hand. “None of that,” he chided. “It was an accident.” It had been a long time since he’d let anger get the best of him. It had been even longer since someone affected him so. He crouched in front of her. “Shhh. It’s all right.” Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped away her tears. She flinched, sending arrows of pain through his heart. For a moment, he flashed back to another time he crouched in the woods, comforting a sobbing girl as balls of light kept guard.

  “Shhh… It’s all right, Creideamh. I won’t let them hurt you.” He wiped the tears off his younger sister’s face as she sat in the dirt sobbing, clutching her leg, broken and lifeless, shaking in pain. “I will protect you always.”

  In the end he couldn’t. For that he’d never forgive himself.

  “It was hers.”

  Magnolia’s voice brought him back. He wasn’t comforting Creideamh, but a slip of a mortal. “Yes, it belonged to my sister. Even I thought twice about coming here uninvited.”

  “You made it for her?” She cocked her head, holding out her uninjured hand for a little purple wood faery to perch on.

  “I did, when she was small.” He’d do anything to make her smile. The day he’d led her from the big house, blindfolded, to this little domain he’d created just for her, still burned bright in his memory. How proud of himself he’d been. How happy she was.

  “I have a tree house in Los Angeles. My father helped V and I build it.” She brightened.

  “You have a father?” A mother she’d mentioned, but no father. She hadn’t mentioned V either. A brother? She’d been cautious, revealing little personal information. Her face screwed up and she looked as if she’d cry— but to give her credit, she didn’t.

  Had. Magnolia had a father. Ah, it made sense now. He understood enough about the mortal realm to understand that no matter what century, raising a child alone proved difficult. Bright Lady bless, even here it was hard to raise a child alone.

  “He disappeared right after the San Fran quake.” Voice quiet, she focused on the little faery in her hand.

  “How?” Los Angeles and San Francisco weren’t close in mortal terms.

  “They needed engineers to rebuild the city. His whole team disappeared. They say the aether did it.”

  Uh oh. He tried not to make a startled noise. Indirectly, he was responsible for her father’s disappearance. Her father wasn’t the only mortal to disappear after the quake, either.

  “He’ll come back, though.” Magnolia straightened, sure. “It’s only been six years.”

  How hopeful she seemed. Six years. He’d probably fallen in one of the many small rifts between here and the mortal realm the earthquake caused. It took them awhile to fix them all.

  She looked around. “Do you think he ended up here?”

  Her cleverness never ceased to amaze him. “Perhaps. Some may have fallen through into this world after the earthquake.”

  “Could we look for him while we try to find Los Angeles?”

  “You can’t get your hopes up. The Otherworld is vast.”

  There was a good chance her father would never be found. Most likely, he and his team perished ages ago. Many,

  many creatures dwelled here—not all as nice as he. “Let’s get up.” Standing, he offered her a hand up. The faery fluttered off, eyeing him warily, as he took Magnolia’s hand. Her small cry reminded him that she’d injured herself in the fall. The basket of star blooms lay on the ground.

  “You’re injured. Should we go back to the cabin?” He picked up the basket of seedlings and gave it back to her. “I didn’t know I couldn’t go there. I’m sorry,” she sniffed. “I like trees.”

  Of course she did. She’d be just as attracted to Creideamh’s grove as the faery tree behind the school. “It’s not your fault. I never told you. Actually, I didn’t think it would affect me so.” How badly would this mis
take set back his plan? “You … you can still show me, if you like, and if that’s where you wish to plant the blooms, you may.”

  “Truly?” It was as if the sun emerged from the clouds.

  “I don’t want to intrude on your sister’s special place.”

  “Creideamh wouldn’t mind as long as you treat it well. Besides, trees like that need love and attention.” He smiled at her, leading her back towards the grove. Often, he’d joked that Creideamh spent as much time there as in the cabin. The familiar hideaway came into view.

  “Magnolia, does your tree house look like this?” He’d formed this one with magic, making the house out of the

  very branches itself.

  “Not at all. Mine is made of boards and sheets of metal, of cogs and gears, and bits of things.” She smiled at

  the memory. “Your sister died, didn’t she?”

  “What?” Anger and hurt flowed through his voice. She flinched. “I’m sorry.” He softened his tone, putting a hand

  on her narrow shoulder. “Thinking of her still hurts.”

  Magnolia’s very presence dredged up painful memories.

  “Yes, she died. But I don’t wish to speak of it.” That, too, was his fault. His sister had relied on him to protect her. He’d failed.

  “I understand.” Magnolia took his hand and squeezed it.

  Her simple gesture of comfort caused numerous thoughts to swim though his mind, none of them innocent or brotherly. But her face held no coy look, no brazen glimmer lurked in her eyes—only innocence and joy. For some reason, injuring her, even by accident or carelessness, seemed like a far greater sin than what would happen when the time of the sacrifice came. It was a privilege to be the sacrifice. She needed to be cosseted and honored, not yelled at and hurt.

  “Let’s go back to the cabin and I’ll tend to your arm.” He touched her face in a bold and intimate gesture, getting a little closer to her. “I’m sorry. Will you ever forgive me?”

  She smiled back, giggling. “Only if you bring me more seedlings tomorrow.”