Julio shouts from the bank, waving us over.
"Yeah, we better go. Julio has work this afternoon, and we've got to get you home to your no-phone family."
A quick trip back across the rocks, a short walk up the street, and we're back in the car, driving away from the city center, headed back to the outer edges of town.
"Let's drive by our school," says Julio. Frank takes a couple turns and we glide past the fences. It's a plain one-story building of red brick, flanked by parking lots and athletic fields.
Next the car rolls through a couple of neighborhoods, not far from the corner store where we met. The houses are small but neatly kept, lined along quiet streets and shaded by huge oaks and magnolias. Lacy dogwoods and showy azaleas bloom in some of the yards.
"That's Zane's digs, there," says Frank, pointing out a red brick house with two dogwoods out front.
"It's sweet," I say, leaning out the open window for a closer look.
"It's home," he says, shrugging. "Hey, where do you live? We gotta get you back there, right?"
The last thing I want is for these guys to see my guardians' massive mansion. "You can just take me back to the store; I'm good to walk from there."
"What, you don't want us to see where you live?" says Julio. "Ow! Stop it, Zane! I'm just saying, either she lives in a trailer or she's super rich and doesn't want us to know."
"Yo, Julio! Shut up!" says Frank. "The lady wants to go back to the store, so back to the store we go."
There's a scuffle in the back seat and Julio says "Ow!" again. "Take it easy, man!"
Too soon, we're pulling into the parking lot of the convenience store. Frank and Julio keep the car running and begin arguing about music stations, but Zane jumps out when I do.
"So, thanks," I say, tucking my thumbs into my jeans pockets. "This was really fun."
"Yeah, yeah." He kicks at a pebble and glances at the forest. "So, you're just gonna walk back into the woods? What are you, some kinda tree spirit?" He's smiling, but from the way he cocks his head to one side, I know he's curious.
"Nothing like that," I say. "I just like the forest."
"Me too," he says. "I go running a lot. In the woods, I mean. Sometimes trails, sometimes just running, you know?"
"You run with anybody?" I ask. "Your friends, girlfriend..."
A slow smile spreads across his face. "No girlfriend," he says. "Some girls who wish they were more than friends, but... nothing like that."
"Uh-huh. Okay." My face is heating up again, and I'm inwardly cursing my fair skin— such a tattletale of my moods. "Well, thanks!" I spin around and head toward the trees.
"Aislinn, wait!" He touches my shoulder, and I feel the warmth of his fingers more intensely than I should. "I'd like to see you again. Your family has a landline, right? Wanna give me the digits?"
"No, no, I can't do that." The thought of him calling the house and talking to the other Korrigan makes me panic. But he looks so dejected that I have to offer him something; besides, I want to see him again, too. "I'll give you my email address."
His dark eyes light up, and since neither of us is carrying a pen, I type the info into his phone. He looks at the information on the screen for a few seconds, and while he does, I study the curve of his jaw, the angle of his cheekbones, the rich color of his skin. I'll probably never see him again, and I want to remember this day as long as I live.
"Thank you," I say. "This day was amazing."
Then I turn and run into the forest.
◆◆◆
"Where were you all day?" Maeve's eyes are narrowed, her face more severe-looking than ever.
"Just, out. Exploring, having fun on my First Day."
"Out," she repeats. "You were out? You were unreachable. Didn't it ever occur to you that some of us may have wanted to share this day with you?"
My mouth falls open. Since when have they ever wanted to share time with me, beyond the occasional meal? Then I notice that Magnolia's eyes are a little red. Has she been crying?
"I— I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't realize—"
"I thought we could spend your First Day together," Magnolia says, her voice wavering.
"I'm so sorry," I say. "I just— everything was so beautiful. I just kind of— went with it."
"Well, there are some daylight hours left. We can have the picnic that Magnolia worked so hard to prepare," says Maeve. Standing there, crisply dressed in slacks, blouse, and heels, she looks more ready for an office than a picnic. With her expression, she'd fit in better at a funeral— or in a courtroom.
I glance at Magnolia again, and I feel a pang of guilt because she looks so disappointed. The twins turn from their spot on the couch and stare at me, looking offended.
Suddenly a surge of anger overwhelms my guilt.
"Sorry, I didn't realize we were a family now," I say. "I've been alone for most of my waking hours during my entire life. We could have hung out anytime then, if any of you were willing to give up a little bit of your precious sleep. But now that I have days, you want to hang out? Forgive me for not realizing that was an option!"
"Watch your tone," says Maeve. I bite back the rest of my words, remembering the stick she used to use to remind me of my place when I was younger. She hasn't used it on me in years, and I'd rather not give her an excuse now.
Magnolia's eyes are tearing up again. Instead of making me pity her, the sight makes me want to slap her. "I stayed up with you, sometimes," she says.
"Almost never," I mutter. "And you're the only one. The rest of you would just go off to your rooms an hour or so after I came up. Or you'd go out together and leave me here."
"What about the plays? We took you to Phantom of the Opera and The Mousetrap," says Gemma. Gillian smacks her arm. "What? We did!"
"Hush, all of you!" Maeve's voice carries the weight of ancient authority. I want to disobey, to rebel, but even I can't ignore that voice. When your primary guardian is centuries old and a Korrigan, you have to know when to back down.
Maeve's ice-blue eyes fix on me. "Whether you believe it's fair or not is irrelevant. What matters is now; and now, we will all be spending some time together."
How fun.
Arden takes Gillian and Gemma in her car, so I ride in the back seat of Maeve's car while she and Magnolia sit up front.
"So, where did you go this morning?" Magnolia keeps her voice light and cheerful, but I can tell there's worry underneath.
"I met some kids my age. We hung out for a while."
"Oh. That's— that's nice," Magnolia says, glancing at Maeve.
"You have to be careful," Maeve says.
"I know. I am."
We ride in silence for a while, and I'm so fascinated by the bright, beautiful countryside flashing past that I almost forget my request.
"One thing, though," I say. "I'd like a phone. You know, you said I was unreachable— if I had a phone, you could get in touch with me anytime. We could text."
Silence.
"If it's a money thing, I could get a job. Help pay for it." What am I saying? They have more than enough money. It's not about the money. It's about control. If Maeve thinks the phone will give me more freedom, she won't let me have it. If she thinks she can control me better with it, then she just might.
"You could put one of those tracker apps on there," I say. "That way you'll always know where I am. You can find me if anything happens."
"We used to use pixies for that," Maeve says. "Excellent trackers. They can find anything— or anyone."
"Too bad this millennium is fresh out of pixies."
In the rearview mirror, I see her smile. "I wouldn't be too sure of that. Still, it's not a bad idea. I'll think about it."
The picnic spot they've chosen is a field dotted with dandelions. Nearby, in a damp hollow by a pond, there's an entire carpet of purple and blue violets. I'm enchanted.
"Do you like it?" asks Magnolia, squeezing my hand. "I found this spot last week."
"I love it!"
Gemma spreads out blankets, and Gillian helps Magnolia unpack the basket. It's about four o'clock, a little early for dinner, but I'm hungry. I suppose daytime and new things can give a person a bigger appetite. The chicken salad, fruit, and cake on my plate disappears in record time.
Arden doesn't eat at all. She pulls out her tablet and keeps going with whatever work she's always doing. The twins eat hardly anything and then excuse themselves, giggling and saying they have dates to get ready for. They're always going out on dates. I think men find the idea of beautiful twins irresistible, and Gemma and Gillian never seem to tire of playing with their boy toys. Gemma usually keeps her boyfriends on the hook for a while, but Gillian goes through men like a shark through water.
Once the twins and Arden leave, the picnic becomes even more awkward. I can't help but compare this silence and stiff conversation with the easy riverside lunch that the boys and I had.
Finally I excuse myself and walk over to the violet patch. Once I'm among the flowers, I can barely see the two women out in the field on the picnic blanket, just above the rim of the hollow on my left. The pond glimmers to my right, reflecting the drooping tendrils of two old willow trees and the blooms of some frilly white dogwoods.
I haven't picked flowers since I was little, but I can't resist these sweet-smelling purple violets. I pluck them near the roots, leaving as much stem intact as I can.
A sudden splash in the pond startles me. Ripples on the water, but nothing in sight. Must have been a fish.
I pick another flower.
Splash! A larger one this time. Then a small rock strikes my shoulder.
"Ow!" I peer across the pond, at the bushes on the other side. I could swear I see something in them.
And then the bushes rustle. Another rock hits my arm. Some kids, maybe?
"That's not funny," I call out. "You shouldn't throw rocks at people. It hurts."
"You shouldn't throw rocks at people. It hurts," says a mimicking voice. More rustling and chuckling from the bushes.
I've always liked kids— but kids who throw rocks? I'm not putting up with that. Quickly I move around the edge of the pond, toward the bushes where the little devils are hiding.
More rocks splash into the pond and pelt my arms and shoulders. One pebble hits my face, stinging sharply.
"Little brats," I hiss between my teeth, and I run toward the bushes. I reach out and pry apart the nearest branches, peering in.
A horrible grinning green lump of a face pops out at me, sticking a long tongue through its rows of pointed yellow teeth. Bristly hair sprouts from its misshapen nostrils, long ears, and curved chin. It yells with laughter in my face, and I scream.
The nearby bushes erupt with laughter, and out from the branches appear more distorted green faces, with gaping sharp-toothed mouths and red tongues and bulging eyes.
I back up, hand over my mouth to stifle another scream. Is this a nightmare? What is happening?
The things swarm out of the bushes toward me. They're wearing tattered shirts and pants, all colored a dark, rusty red, like old blood. At the front of the pack, a large one hoists a heavy rock in one hand. He flings it at my head, and I duck just in time.
"Missed ya this time, Korrigan," he growls in a gravelly voice, thick with Irish brogue. "But I won't again." He weighs another chunk of rock.
Suddenly a clear, sharp whistle echoes over the pond. The green goblins freeze, turning this way and that, licking their sharp teeth with their tongues. Then, one after another, they disappear— not with a puff of smoke or a shower of sparks. They are simply there one second and then— not there.
Looking for the source of the whistle, I see a flash of brilliant red behind one of the willow trees. And then, nothing.
I run back to the picnic blanket, trampling the violets I dropped. When I reach the spot, the two Korrigan aren't there. They are walking a little distance away, arguing heatedly about something.
Flopping down on the blanket, I close my eyes. What were those things? Should I tell Maeve and Magnolia about them? Maybe the change from nighttime to daytime is making me hallucinate. That must be it.
Besides, if I tell them what I saw, what will they do? Keep me in the house? Prevent me from wandering on my own? I can't be walled in again. I can't.
When the sun dips lower in the sky, we pack up and head home. I say nothing of the strange little green men, and when we reach the house I excuse myself and race to my bedroom. Flipping open my laptop, I type in "little green men," then "little green goblins." Nothing seems to fit what I saw. Finally, I type "little Irish goblins," and the first entry pops up.
Leprechaun.
Of course the word had crossed my mind; but these creatures seemed so different from any leprechauns I'd heard of. In the stories, they are greedy little guys, with a fanatical love of gold and a taste for mischief. I'd seen one movie that tried to make them into something terrifying, but it hadn't scared me. I couldn't imagine leprechauns as anything but quirky and fun— and imaginary.
But the things I saw today meant business. They were trying to knock me out, or worse. And there wasn't a rainbow or a pot o' gold in sight.
What about that flash of red? The whistle? It was almost as if someone were warning them— or calling them off.
I try Googling a few more phrases, mostly involving leprechauns, Irish folklore, tricksters, and the color red. There's a Red Branch of the Royal House of Ulster, and the little-known fact that leprechauns used to be depicted as wearing red instead of green.
Finally I find a very plain website that looks as if it were designed back when computers were first available for home use. It has information about all sorts of mythical Irish creatures— leprechauns and cluricauns, merrows and silkies, banshees, the dullahan, and the Lianhan Sídhe.
And finally I see it— an entry about the Red One, the Far Darrig. I remember Magnolia telling stories of the "Fear Dearg," a stocky, stunted, ugly creature, with a spotted yellow face. The website offers a few extra details.
Closely related to the leprechaun, the Far Darrig dresses in red from top to toe. He loves to play macabre practical jokes. He can mimic voices or sounds, turn himself invisible, or give his victims the worst of nightmares.
The Far Darrig sometimes shows favor to mortals and brings them luck. But to those he hates, his trickery often ends in death.
There's more, about how this guy used to lead unsuspecting travelers into the swamp, right to an old hut where a nice tasty hag was roasting on a spit. I shiver. What kind of monster is this? Could he be real? Those creepy little green goblins certainly are.
A yawn interrupts my thoughts, and suddenly I feel strangely excited. Tonight, I'm actually going to be sleeping. In a bed. All night long. I'll get to enjoy a nice long sleep that doesn't involve being shrunken to unconsciousness, riding in the bowels of a demon-beast. I can spend the night really, soundly asleep, like the other Korrigan, instead of getting an hour or two of human contact before spending the rest of the dark hours by myself, doing my online classes and watching TV.
I look at the clock. It's nine-thirty— probably a little early by human teen standards, but I've had a long day, and I'm exhausted. Snapping the laptop closed, I shuffle into my bathroom and brush my teeth. My long red hair is a messy tangle, but I don't feel like combing it out. I twist it up in a knot on my head and wash my face.
Someone raps on my bedroom door.
Toweling my face, I open the door. It's Arden, and she's holding a white paper shopping bag.
"How was your first day?"
"Um— " Amazing, because I met this boy... and terrifying, because I saw real live leprechauns. "It was good. Really good."
"Does it feel strange, being awake in the day, sleeping at night?"
"Kinda."
"Well." She holds out the bag. "Brought you something. For your first night. Sleep well."
"Thanks, you too." I take the bag and close the door, shaking my head and smiling. Arden rarely acknowledge
s me; so when she does, it's always a fun surprise.
Inside the bag are two tank tops, buttery-soft, in pastel prints. They have coordinating pairs of pajama shorts that are just as lightweight and comfortable.
I wonder if Arden felt guilty about what I said earlier, about us not being a family. It's uncharacteristic of her to think of me at all, much less to buy me a present.
As I move toward the trash can to put the bag beside it, I notice that there's one more thing sliding around inside. I reach in, retrieving a necklace with a slim gold chain and a tiny ruby-red stone set in a gold circle. It's a beautiful thing, obviously old, but not overly ornate like some of the Korrigans' vintage jewelry.
Where did it come from? Is it Arden's? And if so, why on earth is she giving it to me? The PJs were a little odd— but this necklace is too weird.
Still, I love it— so I undo the tiny clasp and put it around my neck. The red jewel glimmers between my collarbones like a drop of blood.
After dressing in a set of the new pajamas, I turn off the lights and slide into bed. My eyelids feel heavy almost instantly, and I sink into sleep.
But it's not a restful sleep, or a peaceful one.
4
EVERYTHING
Zane
I think about her all afternoon. I'm still thinking about her that evening, sitting on the couch with my phone while my parents watch the news on TV. I stare at her email address so long that I feel like it's burned onto my eyeballs. When I close my eyes, I still see it.
"You tired, baby?" Mom reaches over to pat my head.
"No, just thinking."
"Thinking? What about?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing, huh? That's code for a girl, for sure. Right, Aaron?" She kicks my dad's leg.
"Huh?" He's still staring at the TV. "Latesha, you see this about the babies gettin' kidnapped?"
"What are you on about?"
"Some messed-up dude's stealin' babies. Right out from under their parents' noses." He points to the screen, where a blond woman is gesturing dramatically to the hospital building behind her.
Korrigan (Secrets of the Fae Book 1) Page 3
