by Anne Manning
She did as he asked. "What's the difference?"
"That spoon is stainless steel. It's got iron in it."
"Oh. So?"
"Iron breaks magic." He turned to her. "Didn't your dad teach you anything?"
"About what?"
"About Faerie. About us."
Her eyes narrowed. "Are you saying, my dad...?"
"No, he wasn't a fairy. If he had been you would be."
"And he wouldn't be dead." The loss hit her, cutting sharp as new. "He would live forever."
Gaelen tipped her face up to his. "No, sweet. Fairies die, too, only we live a lot longer." He thought for a moment. "Maybe we just live more leisurely than mortal folk. But, anyway, your dad was what we call a favorite. In the old country, after we went into hiding, favorites were people who could see us. They'd leave some milk in the jug, fresh water by the door, a loaf of bread, the coals warm on the hearth. We favored such a house by making sure the crops weren't destroyed by weather, or keeping watch over the animals, or giving gifts to the children."
Annabelle remembered her father doing all these things at one time or another. "And all this time I thought he was leaving out milk for the cats." She leaned her chin on her hand. "So, my dad was a favorite?"
Gaelen nodded. "He was."
"Why didn't I know? Why wouldn't he say anything about something so wondrous?"
His smile brightened until she thought she could feel the warmth flowing from him. "Wondrous?" He appeared unaccountably pleased. "As to why he never said anything--" He cut her a glance, then turned his attention back to his mixing. "Did you ever ask him?"
Regret filled her. "No. I never did."
He nodded. "So many mortals don't know until it's too late how important it is to simply ask a question now and again."
While he talked, he pressed the clover into a paste. He touched the paste, smeared a small dab between his fingers.
"Ah, perfect." He met her gaze and gave her a wink. "Now, the oil." He unscrewed the cap and let the thick liquid glub into the bowl.
She watched him closely. "How do you know when you have enough?"
Gaelen shrugged, but kept adding oil. "Waxing-moon clover is powerful enough to stand some dilution. For where we're goin', we'll need plenty."
She frowned. That sounded slightly ominous. "Is it really dangerous? I mean, fairies don't hurt people, do they?"
He didn't answer right away. He even stopped stirring.
Her unease grew. "Gaelen? Do fairies hurt people?"
He sighed and resumed stirring the paste. "Sometimes."
She jumped to her feet, heart stomping in fear. "What do you mean, sometimes? You said Erin would be all right. I thought we just had to go and get her back."
Gaelen leaned heavily on the counter. He grimaced before he finally spoke. "Sometimes, not often, a fairy will go rogue, hurt people. Most of the time, though, any damage is done out of carelessness. We fairies are a careless bunch."
"What kind of damage?" She wasn't sure she really wanted to know.
"Nothing physical. Usually not permanent."
She waited for him to explain that but he didn't say anything else as he spooned the ointment into the crystal bottle he'd had in the hospital.
"Here, look at this," he said, applying a tiny drop to her eyes. When she'd blinked, he spread a thin layer on her hand.
* * * *
Gaelen watched her eyes widen. The ointment was especially good. Her hand disappeared in a twinkle.
Annabelle's scream pierced the air.
"Shhh!" His hissed injunction was ridiculous. She couldn't hear anything except herself.
Gaelen placed his hand behind her head and pulled her to him, covering her shrieking mouth with his.
Her scream died, replaced by a sigh. Her arms went his waist, holding on. His arms slid down, molding her to him. Her lips were soft and tender, dewy and sweet.
He knew he'd never tasted anything more delicious. A million years of such kissing wouldn't be too much.
Maybe two million years...
The shock of the thought made him break away. He stepped back, letting his arms drop and forcing hers to release him. He'd never had to do anything harder.
Brown eyes flickered with uncertainty.
"What did you do that for?" she asked.
He really didn't know. His initial reaction was he wanted to and that was that. Fairies had no great use for delayed gratification. But Gaelen had thought himself beyond that. Clearly you could take the boy out of Faerie...
Annabelle's question required an answer.
"To shut you up. I don't want my neighbors thinking I'm running a white slavery ring in here."
Hurt flickered across her eyes. Had she wanted to know why he'd stopped? If he'd answered the wrong question, her recovery was quick. She covered up her unease with a laugh.
"What a story. College professor by day, sadistic abuser of innocent young women by night." She glanced at him with a sly smile. "What do you think? It's a good filler for page ten."
"At least it's not about fairies."
Annabelle held up her invisible hand.
"So what happened to my hand?" She touched her unseen fingers.
"It's the ointment," Gaelen replied, glad to have something else to talk about. "The ointment works a couple of ways. It allows mortals to see things of Faerie. It makes mortal things invisible to those with the Sight, like fairies and mortals who've gotten hold of the ointment. So, now," he touched her treated eye, "from this side, you see like a fairy does."
"You can't see it either?"
He shook his head.
"How long does it last?"
Gaelen shrugged. "Depends on the ointment, the clover used to make it, the amount of dilution, the phase of the moon." In spite of himself, he raised his gaze to hers. "The person it's used on."
Leaning against the counter, Annabelle asked, "How does it work?"
Gaelen was grateful for her attempt at safe conversation.
"A physicist friend of mine tried to explain it to me. Something to do with the way the molecules bend light and the wavelengths..."
Gentle, invisible fingers pressed against his lips. Her eyes twinkled.
"Gaelen, maybe it's just...magic?"
Magic, indeed. His nature urged him to take what he wanted from her. Now. Even as he struggled with his desire, she made the choice for him. She leaned toward him, her tender lips just a kiss away from his. He waited for her to come nearer, sweet anticipation making delay bearable. Her lips parted a bit, luring him closer. Her breath brushed against his mouth, souls touching before lips.
She stopped, her eyes opened, flashing sudden uncertainty. She started to back away, but he leaned toward her, sweeping his lips across hers, a taste promising much more to come. Her uncertainty disappeared and her brown eyes smiled, shining pure sunshine into an unused, dusty part of his heart.
For his soul, Gaelen couldn't remember why kissing her had been a bad idea. He leaned forward, eager for another taste. Annabelle met him halfway. Almost.
A flicker of light flashed between them, tingling their lips in its wake.
Annabelle jumped, her invisible fingers flying to her mouth. Both their heads followed the twinkle of light as it flew into the small bathroom at the end of the hallway.
"What was that?" she asked.
Gaelen huffed with indignation. "Impeccable timing," he muttered. He ignored her question and stalked down the hallway to the bathroom.
"What is it?" Annabelle asked again, following closely behind.
"E-mail." Gaelen stood before the sink and leaned forward, breathing onto the mirror, making a fog. The words, fuzzy and indistinct at first, grew clearer in the misty surface.
"Wow," Annabelle whispered. "That's so cool."
With a chuckle, Gaelen studied the message. His humor turned to outrage.
"The damned treacherous pixie! The deceitful, nasty, ill-tempered..."
"What?" Annabelle asked, her vo
ice filled with concern. "What is it?"
The message was written in Irish, so he gave her the gist.
"It's from Eochy, the chairman of the North American Council. He's heard from the Elders that Erin and Lucas are being delivered to Ireland. I've been ordered to stay out of it now."
"Tell me what that means."
"It means I have no authority in the matter. Linette went over my head." He turned and leaned on the sink, struggling against the sense of utter doom. "In New Jersey, I would have had a chance to do something. Now, facing the Elders...damn."
"We'll just go to Ireland, then."
"Just like that?" he asked, admiring her ferocity.
"Yes. You know where they've gone?"
"Sure. They'll have gone to Knockma. Finnvarra loves spectacles." In answer to her questioning gaze, he explained. "Finnvarra is the king of the fairies of Connacht, the most powerful of the fairy kings. He has a...fondness for mortal women, especially pretty, young ones like Erin," he added, more to himself, than to her.
"But you said it was against the law."
"Finnvarra is king," Gaelen said, cutting her off. "He does what pleases him."
Annabelle frowned, her precious twinkling eyes flashing. "That's ridiculous. Is he above the law?"
"Yes, but the lasses he seduces aren't similarly favored. They end up paying the price for his weakness."
Her indignation turned to apprehension. Clearly she understood the price might well apply to her own sister.
"What price?" she asked after a long pause.
Gaelen hesitated telling her. To him, it was a hellish thing, yet a mortal might not think eternal life with no responsibility such a horrible punishment.
She grabbed his sleeve with her still invisible hand, silently demanding an answer.
"There is only one penalty fairy folk impose for breaking the law against seducing mortal folk. Banishment to Tir-Nan-Og, the Land of Perpetual Youth."
As he'd expected, she muttered, "Doesn't sound bad."
Gaelen turned away from her, disappointed in her reaction, and walked slowly back to the kitchen. He felt her following, her feet making no sound on the polished wood floor. She didn't say anything, but he felt her watching him, waiting for his explanation.
Back in the kitchen, he picked up a damp cloth, sprinkled salt on it and reached for her invisible hand. He held her hand while he wiped off the ointment, making her hand visible again to him. He held on as he told her what she wanted to know.
"Imagine taking a week, or two, or three, for a vacation. You've handed over your work to a colleague, your cat to a neighbor, and put your mail and newspaper on hold. You travel to a place where the weather is always perfect. You want sun; you get sun. You want a gentle shower, or a wild thunderstorm, that's what you get. In this place, every wish is granted, every desire satisfied, every hunger fed. You play, run, walk, fight, and never get tired. This place reaches deep down inside you and pulls out by the roots all your ideas of what beauty is. Sunsets and flowers and music. Ah, Annabelle, music that makes you laugh with joy, or cry tears from a place so deep you never even knew it was there. It gives you sleep of such peace you may as well be dead, but you're not."
Annabelle said, "Isn't that what Heaven's supposed to be like?"
"Heaven is for eternity. We have no idea what it's really like. But Tir-Nan-Og is here now. Any mortal who experiences these things is trapped there forever, dearling. Even if he gets away, there is no escape, for Tir-Nan-Og lives in his memory, enticing, seducing, forever. A mortal who has been taken prisoner in Tir-Nan-Og, even if it's in his mind only, can no longer focus on anything outside it. Every thought is of the Land of Perpetual Youth, and the joys to be lived there." He frowned. "It's one of the most irresponsible things my kind does, you see, bringing a mortal to our place, then making them leave. But it's worse than that, for if a mortal becomes enchanted, he can no longer survive out here in your world."
"You said Erin would be kept there forever."
He shrugged. "Maybe. Fairies are known for being unreliable in their promises."
"So, you're saying she might be taken there, but she'd be released someday?"
He nodded, "Yes, but she'd not be the Erin you know now. She'd be," he paused, seeking exactly the right word, "unfocused, unable to cope."
An expression of sublime horror settled on Annabelle's face.
"You mean she'd be like Mom." She dug her fingers into his arm. Her fear made her voice tremble. "Gaelen, we have to get her out of there." It wasn't a question. The question lived in her eyes, pleading with him. "You promised me Erin would be all right." Doubt clouded her eyes. "But you said a fairy's promises were unreliable."
Gaelen set his hands on her shoulders. "Perhaps I should have said some fairies's promises. Just like some mortal's. You have my word." He pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering, inhaling her sweetness for a moment. Unfortunately, a moment was all he had to spare. "Come, now, let me take you home so you can pack a few things. You won't need much. Do you have a passport?"
"No," she replied, panicked.
He squeezed her shoulders and rubbed up and down her arms. "Don't fret about it. I'll take care of it."
"How are you going to take care of a passport?"
"My sweet Annabelle, I'm bruised to the bone. Have you forgotten to whom you speak?" With a wink, he turned her toward the front door.
She let herself be led to the car, clearly exhausted. Almost as soon as he'd backed out of the drive, she was asleep. He let her sleep. For sure the poor girl needed what rest she could get.
"Annabelle," he whispered, when he stopped the car in the Tinker driveway.
Her breathing was still steady and deep. He got out and walked around, opening the door gently and scooping her into his arms. He kicked the door shut and carried her up the walk to the front door.
He realized she didn't have her purse and grumbled for forgetting it.
"Well, man, how are you going to get inside?" He was digging through his memory for magic to open a lock when Annabelle mumbled, "Key's in the pot."
Gaelen looked around, then noticed the potted plant beside the door. He stooped down and settled Annabelle across his lap while he fingered in the pot for the key.
"Thank you, darlin'. We're quite a team, aren't we?"
He was rewarded by a sweet, sleepy smile as she snuggled on his shoulder. A moment later he had the door open and carried her inside. There was no sound in the house, so Susan must be asleep.
"First door on the right," she muttered, snuggling again, even closer to him.
"Yes, my lady."
He took her to her room and laid her on the bed. After he took off her shoes, he pulled a light cover over her, tucking it in around her as though she were a child.
Standing by the bed, he gazed at her, marveling in the softness and steel that formed her character. She'd not turned tail nor quailed from the task at hand.
He was fortunate to have such a partner as Annabelle in this business.
"Good night, love," he whispered, bending over to lay a kiss on her forehead.
Annabelle opened her eyes. "You still haven't told me your plan."
"We'll have all the time we need on the plane to discuss it. Go back to sleep. I'll call in the morning to let you know about our flight."
"I'm sorry, Gaelen."
"For what?"
"If I were a fairy, too, we could fly there, couldn't we?"
"I suppose. But we'll get there just the same."
Her eyes fell closed and within a minute, she was again breathing deeply. He slipped out of the house, relocked the door, repotted the key--making a mental note to scold Annabelle and her mother for putting a key to the house in such a predictable place--and got back in his car. As he drove home, he pondered the feelings that had blindsided him.
No, that wasn't true. He'd felt it from the first, the draw, as though she held a string attached to his heart. No matter where or how far away he went, the string w
ould always be there. She could play him out like a kite and bring him in close as she willed. His only hope was that she never find out her hold over him.
This business had long since gone from simply ridding his brother of an unfortunate connection to a quest to be performed for Annabelle. It was no longer enough for him to get Lucas out of trouble. Erin also had to be freed, because Annabelle wanted it.
He knew it wasn't possible to contemplate a life with her or any mortal woman. He'd carefully shielded himself from any entanglement with them. They were far too much trouble.
But he owed her a debt.
Sure 'n' that's it. I'm just feeling grateful for her good deed. Even as he reassured himself his attraction was temporary, based on gratitude and the shared worry over their siblings, he knew it was a lie. Once we've gotten Erin and Lucas out of trouble, she'll go back to New York, and I'll be here, and we'll never see each other again. No problem.
Sure, no problem. No problem except for the emptiness already filling his soul.
No time to worry about that now, Gaelen. Instead, think about the cost of two business class tickets to Ireland.
Chapter Sixteen
"But, Annabelle, Erin is in the hospital, in a coma. How can you possibly think of running off now?"
Tossing in another pair of panties and zipping the suitcase closed, Annabelle tried to be patient with her mother.
"Mom, I promise you, if this wasn't for Erin, I wouldn't go. I can't explain. You'll just have to trust me."
"At least tell me where you're going."
Gaelen had warned her not to give too much away, and Annabelle struggled for a moment, trying to judge what to say. But her mother needed to know at least this much.
"Ireland," Annabelle said simply.
"Ireland?" Her mother grabbed Annabelle's wrist and held her tight. "Why?"
"I can't tell you."
Mom's gaze bore into hers. "It's them, isn't it? They took my baby."
"Them?" Annabelle repeated uncertainly.
"The Good Folk." She dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed. "They're so careless with people's feelings. First me. Now Erin."
Annabelle felt her heart slow down.
"Mom, who are you talking about?"
