“Tell me,” he murmured. “Tell me what is wrong.”
Curse it. I bit my lip and gently pushed him away. “It’s nothing,” I insisted, “just didn’t do very well on a test this week is all.”
The lie came easily, and I felt a little crappy for telling it but the last thing I wanted to do was bare my soul to Devlin. No, that was way too terrifying, even more so than the threat of falling into that deep crevasse I was teetering ever so close to.
Someone came around the corner, a shaggy-haired college student with the beginning of a beard and glasses. He arched a brow at us and I gave a watery smile. It was time to leave the bookstore. As much as I loved the comfort it offered, there was just too much quiet to let my mind wander. Besides, having Devlin pressed this close to me was dangerous. Very dangerous. I needed someplace with noise, just enough sound to keep my idle thoughts quiet. It didn’t take long for me to decide where to go next.
Reaching for Devlin’s hand I said, “Come on, there’s something I need to show you.”
We brushed by the shaggy guy, almost shoving him into a cart full of magazines, and headed for the door. Outside, the clouds had parted a little, allowing slivers of sunshine to pool on the ground around us. I wasn’t expecting the sun to make much headway, though. In the distance, the sky was almost black and I knew our outdoor adventure wouldn’t last much longer. Heading toward the mission, I crossed the street and entered the plaza, the iconic fountain with its bronze statue of a bear standing watch. The crowd had thinned, the denizens of San Luis either heading back home for the encroaching evening or finding refuge indoors before the sky opened up again. Holding a hand up to my eyes, I peered through the treetops. We had anywhere between a half an hour to an hour, maybe more. Plenty of time to explore the creek that ran through a narrow canyon at the heart of the city.
“Where are we going?” Devlin asked behind me.
Devlin had been such a good sport all day, following me like a devoted shadow. He had also remained quiet, which had me worried. True, he’d never been a very talkative person, but there was something different about his silence this afternoon, as if the weight of my distress from earlier had expanded beyond myself and affected those around me. I gave a mental snort. Well, going by the way it felt, I wouldn’t be surprised if my misery had become some invisible, physical presence.
I reached the edge of the plaza and found one of several sets of stairs that led down into the creek. Twenty-to-thirty-foot walls of concrete and stone held the canyon walls in place, securing the busy restaurants and shops that sat on the edge of the small cliffs above. The gentle rush of the water below greeted my ears, and I all but melted into a pool of calm when my shoes sank into the pebbled beach of the creek bank, the wet crunch of the rocks reminding me that this was my kind of place; a natural oasis for my soul to imbibe in the mortal world’s hidden magic.
Devlin’s crunch was louder than mine, and the heavy intake of breath told me he felt the same way as I did about this place. With my head tilted back and my eyes closed, I smiled just a little, my spirit glad to be in Nature’s embrace once more. Not a single soul, save Devlin and I, lingered. We had this stream and its lush greenery all to ourselves. The real world whirred and chinked above us, busy with everyday life, but in this place only the earth itself resided.
“I love it down here,” I said without turning to look at Devlin.
I opened my eyes to the sky above. The clouds still churned, and the air still smelled of rain, but none had fallen yet. Despite the tranquility, however, my thoughts would not settle. Tears began to pool in my eyes, and I had to do something to distract myself from this gnawing sorrow that threatened to consume me. Maybe it had been a bad idea to spend the day with Devlin. Perhaps I should have locked myself in my apartment and let it all loose at once instead of holding it in. But no, I was here now, and I’d be damned if I was going to break down in front of Devlin O’Brolaigh. Taking a deep breath and letting it out through my nose, I lowered my head and watched the cold water slip over the stones.
“Tell me about the Otherworld, Devlin,” I said.
I could hear him shift behind me, but I didn’t turn to face him.
“What would you like to know?” he asked softly.
“Everything. How many people live there, what your cities are like, what sorts of animals live in your forests, the climate . . .”
I trailed off before finishing. “Just tell me all you can think of.”
I suspected Devlin still sensed my distress, but fortunately he went along with my request. He described the lush green fields and massive, snow-capped mountains of his homeland. I closed my eyes and felt the icy, wet kiss of snowflakes in winter and breathed in the crisp scent of autumn in the Weald. Otherworldly foxes, deer and horses danced around in my mind, and the sound of songbirds in the spring filled my ears, their cheerful notes mixing in the air with the sweet scent of wildflowers.
“Where do you live?” I asked in a soft voice.
“For now I live in the Weald in a small cabin.”
I turned to look at him, my sorrow having left for the time being.
“For now?” I prompted.
He nodded and moved closer to where I stood beside the creek. He squatted down and studied the water, smiling as a small school of tiny fish darted about below the surface.
“This mission to hunt down the Daramorr was a request from the high queen, but it does not come without a reward. Should I fulfill this task, I will be given my own land, with a castle to call my own.”
That snapped me right out of my melancholy.
“Castle?” I asked, my attention now one hundred percent on Devlin. Not only was he ridiculously attractive, but he would soon have a castle too?
His blue eyes trailed over my face for a moment before returning to the creek.
“It’s more like a pile of rubble at the moment, but it is the land that comes with it that makes it worthwhile. And I suppose the fortress could be rebuilt into something livable.”
He shrugged and picked up a few wet pebbles, testing their weight in his hand. I tried to imagine a castle in the Otherworld. I knew Meghan lived in one with Cade. She had told me about it the last time she had visited the mortal world.
“Tell me more about this rubble pile that was once a castle and the property that comes with it,” I pressed.
Devlin sighed and stood up, stretching his long frame to its full height. I mimicked him, and when he gestured toward a massive sycamore limb resting against the ground, I took a seat. He settled down beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
“The old fortress was once called Diarnan. Lake Ohll, Eile’s largest body of water, lies to the east, and part of the land encroaches into the Weald, a place where an ancient oak grove grows.”
I sighed as my mind conjured up an image of such a place. “And oak trees are so very sacred, at least to the Celts,” I murmured.
Devlin nodded. “Their presence would bring my brother and me peace, and we would be near the Weald if we wished to visit Enorah and the other Wildren.”
A single drop of water from above hit my nose and I started a bit. Curse it, the rain was coming. I could sit here all day and listen to Devlin talk about the Otherworld, but the clouds up above had other plans. Resisting the temptation to snuggle up to him, I took a breath and said, “You’ve mentioned your brother before. Tell me more about him.”
Devlin smiled but didn't look at me. “Rhyne is unlike anyone I’ve ever met, yet he reminds me a little of you. He’s always been the type of person who has to help those he views as weaker than himself. If someone is in danger or in need of help, he’s usually the one to volunteer first before learning all the details. It has often gotten him into trouble.”
A shadow crossed Devlin’s face, and I reached over, resting my hand on his forearm.
Devlin looked at me, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “If I can complete this mission to Danua’s satisfaction, then the both of us can
settle on Diarnan’s land. My hope is that the task of restoring the old fortress will keep Rhyne so busy he won't get distracted by his quests.”
This conversation was heading into dangerous territory. The way Devlin spoke about his brother was exactly how family members should view one another. Not my family, though.
I cleared my throat. “You love your brother very much.”
The slow nod Devlin gave was answer enough but he added, “He’s the only family I have, besides the Wildren of course. We relied on one each other for so long after my mother’s death, and it was up to me to raise him.”
Another icy drop hit my cheek, and then another splashed down onto my hand. The light pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the dead leaves piled around us reminded me that it was time to head home.
Devlin looked toward the sky and frowned. “I think we need to find shelter soon.”
Gritting my teeth, I stood up and said, “Let’s head back to my apartment.”
Maybe I could persuade Devlin to watch another movie with me on my laptop. And after that, maybe it would be too late for him to leave and he’d have to sleep on my futon again. I hoped so. If I had him in the house with me, maybe my mind wouldn’t have time to wander and remember that although Devlin had a brother to love him, I had no one.
-Fifteen-
Broken
The sky didn’t really open up until we reached my street. As the rain poured down from above, Devlin and I darted over the sidewalk, avoiding the quickly growing puddles and laughing like school children. Being the gentleman he was, Devlin held his jacket out like a makeshift umbrella as I struggled with the lock on the door.
“Sorry,” I grumbled as we stumbled into the dark apartment.
Fortunately, there was no clutter lying around to trip over as I went around turning on lights. I piled my purse and sweatshirt onto my bed and pulled the rubber band out of my hair. The rain and half-run from the creek had tangled it.
“Mind if I take a shower real fast?” I asked Devlin.
He shook his head.
I smiled. “You can just hang out in here. There are some books over there if you get bored.”
I gestured toward the old staircase that had once connected this room to the house above. The door had been boarded up, and I’d taken advantage of the awkward space the stairs had created by turning it into a miniature library.
Devlin nodded and strode over to take a look, and I squeezed past him to get into the bathroom, but not before pulling out a change of clothes. Fifteen minutes later, I emerged from the steamy room, towel-drying my hair to get the moisture out. Devlin wasn’t standing beside the book-encrusted staircase any longer, nor was he in the main room. Had he left? Feeling a pang of disappointment, I turned the corner and felt the towel slip from my grasp.
There in the middle of my kitchen, holding a familiar piece of paper, stood Devlin. His head was bent, and his brow was furrowed with confusion or irritation, I couldn’t say which. But it wasn’t Devlin’s odd stance that bothered me, it was what he held in his hands. My father’s letter.
All at once, my muscles stiffened as sheer panic pierced through me.
“What are you doing?” My voice grated against my throat.
Devlin looked up at me then, his bright blue eyes razor sharp.
“Who wrote this?” he growled, his voice hard enough to cut diamonds.
I shook my head, partly in answer to his question and also to regain my senses. I felt dizzy and hot, as if I might pass out. Oh no you don’t! my inner voice chided. Robyn Dunbarre is not a fainter!
“It’s nothing,” I managed, stepping forward and trying to take the letter from him.
Devlin lifted his arm just enough so I couldn’t reach the paper.
“This isn’t nothing,” he said.
“Look,” I breathed, my panic slowly being replaced by anger, “that was private. You weren’t supposed to read it.”
How had he found it anyway?
“I did not know that. It was lying on the floor in here, and I only meant to peruse it to make sure it wasn’t anything important. Now answer me, who wrote this?”
I gritted my teeth and fought the temptation to jump for it. The thought of looking like a little kid attempting to get the better of an annoying older cousin kept my feet planted right where they were. That’s all I needed to do: add more embarrassment to the already mortifying situation. Instead, I crossed my arms because pouting was sooo much more mature.
“You know, most mortal men would be ashamed of reading a lady’s private letters.”
It was total bull, of course, but I might as well try and guilt him into giving it up.
“I’m not a mortal man,” Devlin countered.
I eyed him carefully. You’ve got that right.
“I’ll ask one more time. Robyn, who wrote this? Who said these things to you?”
His voice had softened, like that of a parent trying to sooth his child. Or the voice of an older brother trying to reassure his sibling. The loving voice of someone who cared. My lip began to tremble. All day I had been avoiding this, but it looked like I was going to have to face it after all. And yay for me, I was going to break down right in front of Devlin.
“Robyn?” he prompted once again.
I took a deep, shuddering breath and, as the tears began to stream down my face, I croaked, “My dad.”
The world tilted and I began listing to the side. Fortunately, someone was there to catch me. Someone with strong arms and a solid chest and the scent of the wild wood enveloping him. I stopped fighting and cried. I cried so hard I could barely breathe and all the while a deep, familiar voice murmured kind words into my ear. I couldn’t understand them, but I knew they had to be nice words because some of that soul-devouring pain began to subside.
“I tried s-so hard when I was y-younger to be a good daughter,” I sobbed, “but I just c-couldn’t keep up the facade any-any longer. I just w-wish they could under-understand!”
“Hush,” Devlin murmured. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. In the short time I’ve known you, you have proven to be a good person. If your parents can’t understand that, then it is their deficiency, not yours.”
He lifted my face in his hands and gazed down at me. “Do not let their blindness convince you that a light does not shine within you, Robyn. Just because they cannot see it does not mean it is not there. They merely lack the ability to perceive it, the way most mortals cannot see my kind and that which comes from my world.”
Devlin lowered my head back to his chest so that the rhythm of his heartbeat echoed in my ear. The sound was a welcome comfort, especially at that moment.
For hours, it seemed, Devlin simply held me. At some point, he carried me over to the futon and rocked me like a child. I would have felt ridiculous, but no one had ever done that to me when I was little. The Dunbarres had never comforted me in this way when I got upset, and over time, I had forgotten about this soul-deep, human need for contact. It was as if the young child inside of me had never grown up; hadn’t received the love she needed so she had never really gone away. Devlin was comforting that forgotten child now with his kindness.
Eventually the wracking shudders and black hole of despair melted away and I pushed against Devlin. Oh, wonderful, I’d managed to stain his T-shirt with drool.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, trying to wipe the wet spot away with my hand. How embarrassing. As if pouring out my soul for the past several minutes hadn’t been humiliating enough.
Devlin snatched up my hand with his own and stood up.
“Leave it,” he said, letting my hand go as he headed toward the kitchen.
My fingers, in their usual, nervous way, reached up and raked through my hair. It was still wet, so maybe that had left the stain on Devlin’s shirt.
Before I could dwell too long on my own awkwardness, sounds of banging cupboard doors and slamming drawers filled my tiny apartment. What the heck?
I stood up, still feeling a bit
wobbly but determined to recover from my meltdown. Using the frame of the doorway in the kitchen to steady myself, I glanced in to find Devlin searching my cabinets.
“What’re you doing?” I asked.
He pulled out a large pot and a frying pan and set them on the tiny island, then reached for the refrigerator door.
“Making us something to eat.”
I blinked up at him. Was he serious?
I didn’t have much time to consider it because now he was pulling out bacon, cheese, carrots and celery. A bit of leftover roast beef from three nights ago joined the pile.
I glanced at the heap of odd ingredients and at the large pot he’d set on the stove. Crossing my arms, I narrowed my eyes and drawled, “What are you making? Stone soup?”
He’d moved to the pantry but turned around to face me, three potatoes in one hand and an onion in the other.
“Stone soup?”
I waved a hand and said, “Never mind. What are you planning on throwing together in here?”
“Soup, but I’ve never heard of a soup that uses stones in the ingredients.”
“It’s a children's story,” I grumbled, pulling up my kitchen stool to the island so I could watch him. “Need any help?”
Devlin gave me a wicked grin, and I felt my toes tingle. “I want you to sit back and relax, though I may need you to point me in the right direction with regard to spices and such.”
As the steady rain pelted down outside and the sky gradually grew darker, Devlin began chopping and dicing and cutting and slicing and grating. We found some cans of vegetable broth in my pantry and some garlic salt in my spice rack. Devlin dropped a few tablespoons of butter into the pot before adding water to give the soup a good base. While the broth heated, he peeled potatoes over the sink and, despite his protests, I started taking the skin off the onion.
Soon the soup was simmering and a potpourri of savory scents infused the air. My stomach rumbled, so I filled the tea kettle and set it to boil. Once the tea was done, I settled back on my stool as Devlin cleaned the utensils and dishes we’d used to prepare the soup. The patter of rain and the low bubbling of the pot on the burner did little to disturb my thoughts, but at least the lingering ache from earlier had finally vanished. It was strange how easily Devlin had made it disappear. I wasn’t sure what to think of that, but I was grateful. The pain had washed over me like an all-consuming flood, and Devlin’s presence was the sun that had finally dried it up. I gave a mental snort. How very poetic of me, and cheesy. Oh well. It was the truth.
Lorehnin: A Novel of the Otherworld Page 18
