Korrigan (Secrets of the Fae Book 1)

by Rebecca F. Kenney

  "— here at the site of yet another infant disappearance," says the reporter. "A two-day-old girl vanished from Memorial Hospital's maternity ward. Authorities are investigating how the baby could have been taken from her mother's room undetected, in spite of numerous security measures in place at the hospital."

  A nervous-looking hospital official flashes onto the screen, insisting that the hospital's security is state-of-the-art. By the sweat glistening on his forehead, I'd guess he's in pretty big trouble.

  "This incident is the fifth infant kidnapping in the past two months— and new parents are understandably worried," says the reporter. Then a big pregnant lady and a nervous little man show up, fretting about how they're scared for their baby.

  I frown. "So somebody's trolling hospitals, taking babies? That's effed up."

  "Language," says Mom.

  "I said 'effed.'"

  "And the Lord knows what you meant. There are plenty of words in the English language— no need to use that one."

  "Yes, ma'am," I mutter. Good thing she can't hear me when I'm with the guys. And they're even worse.

  I go back to my phone and start an email to Aislinn. What should I say? Is it too soon? Maybe I should wait. After all, I just met her this morning. But man, do I want to email her.

  I'm not sure what to do, and there's one person who could help. So I jump off the couch and head for my sister Kali's room. She's fourteen, but she has more sense than most of the kids I know at school.

  Her door is partly open, and I rap on it with my knuckles. "Hey, Kali."

  "Hiya, Z." She flips the book she's reading upside down to keep her place. "What's up?"

  I shrug. "Just a question. How soon is too soon to email a girl?"

  She raises her eyebrows. "When did you meet her?"

  "This morning."

  "Oh." She bounces to a cross-legged position. "Wow. Um, I'm guessing you want to email her tonight?"

  "Too soon?"

  "Maybe. Where'd you meet her?"

  "Not telling you the whole story, okay?" I feel my face burning. "I— you know, just forget it."

  "Fine! You're the one who asked me."

  For a minute I stay in the doorway, smacking the doorpost with my hand. "We hung out for most of the day. It was pretty cool." It was like a damn epic movie, and now everything in my head is her.

  "And she gave you her number?"

  "Her email. She doesn't have a phone."

  "Weird." Kali frowns.

  "Yeah it is. So what do I do? Help a brother out."

  She tilts her head to one side. "Go ahead and email her," she says. "Keep it short. Say you had a nice time and you'd like to see her again. Don't try to be funny, cause you're not."

  "Thanks for that." I smack the doorpost again and head for my room. Kali's the best. Not that I'd ever tell her that.

  5

  LEGEND

  Aislinn

  I'm standing on a column of red rock, chasms opening on every side like gaping mouths. Across the yawning gaps, sheer cliffs rise to meet a stormy sky, roiling with red-brown clouds. Suddenly, over the lip of my rocky perch slides a foot, all white-ridged knuckles and curved yellow claws with points sharp as scalpels.

  I gasp and back away. But immediately I hear scraping behind me, as two more clawed feet appear, then a horrible pale head and neck, fused together, long and thick and sinuous like a snake's body.

  Narrow eyes flash, the pale lips writhe back, and the creature snaps its yellow teeth at me. It's gaining purchase on the rocky edge now, scrambling up onto the column.

  Time to scream. Time to run. But I can't make a sound, and there's nowhere to go. I make a split-second decision that I'd rather die at the bottom of the chasm than be ripped apart at the seams by those jaws.

  I dash to the edge and look down. More creatures are swarming up the sides of the stone column, claws slipping and scratching, backs humping, tails lashing. They stretch their snake-like necks toward me and scream for my blood. My mouth opens, but I cannot scream back.

  There's no way to jump now. I'd just fall into those shrieking, toothy mouths. No weapons, except a lump of rock that I snatch, scraping the skin from my knuckles. I heft it in my hand, like the leprechaun did at the pool today.

  The leprechaun. The pool.

  This is a dream. A terrible, terrible dream. Wake up! Wake up!

  The white demons are all around me now. I smash my stone against the skull of one. Its pale skin peels away, revealing raw pink flesh underneath. It screams in my face and slashes my arm to ribbons with its claw.

  Agony. Real, visceral agony. I have to wake up.

  Another beast opens its jaws, and I see three rows of yellow teeth in a mass of purple gums and tissue, right before it clamps down on my side. Chewing, chewing, into my insides. The pain is blinding.

  In my ear I hear a voice— not mine— a low, masculine voice, with a mocking lilt. "Wake up, Alice. Alice, wake up!"

  I'm awake. Sweating, shaking, feeling my body in a panic that parts of it might be missing. Everything is still here. It wasn't real.

  I fly out of bed and turn on the light. My room is just as it always was— the hardwood floor with the soft white rug, the pink and aqua bedspread, the white curtains with the gold pattern. My pictures, some vintage prints and one of Gemma's paintings. The nightstand, the desk, the big chair, and the dresser.

  Deep breaths. In and out.

  When I've stopped shaking, I peel off the sweat-soaked pajamas and use a damp washcloth to blot my face and neck.

  The Korrigan never told me about having nightmares after their first Life-Stealing. It was so long ago for all of them that I doubt they would even remember. It's probably a perfectly normal part of the transition.

  Of course it is.

  But what was with that voice? I recognize the reference to Alice in Wonderland, of course— but I haven't read the book or watched the movie since I was a kid. Like, nine years old, maybe.

  After a drink of water, I flip off the light switch and slip back into bed. The sheets have dried somewhat, but it's still unpleasantly damp, so I scoot over to find a dry spot.

  Soon, I sleep again.

  This time everything is black.

  I'm standing upright, but I can't see the ground. I can't see walls, or ceiling, or anything. It's all inky black.

  I shuffle forward, hands outstretched. There's a faint wafting of air around me, and it feels as if I'm in a big, big room. A cave? But it isn't damp or echo-y like a cave.

  Squinting, I peer into the nothing. Is that a spot of light?

  Faster I walk, toward the pale speck. It's very far away.

  I walk, and walk. Finally the speck looks a little larger. It's lumpy now, and its shape keeps changing. I squint even harder, straining my eyeballs to see better.

  When I try to call out, the Nothing stops my voice. So I run towards the white lump, and it— runs toward me. That's what it's doing. It's running toward me.

  I can see it now. Four legs, four clawed feet. A long, lashing tail. A sinuous neck with a blunted head and narrow eyes.

  It does not scream. It only runs. After me.

  Lightning-quick I turn and race away into the Nothing. I run until my shins ache and my feet throb and my eyes water with the pain in my lungs. I can't hear the demon's feet, but I know it's coming, faster, faster than I could ever flee.

  Wake up, wake up!

  With a sickening wet thump it lands on my back, claws slipping deep in my flesh.

  Wake up wake up wake up wake up!

  Tears flood my cheeks, and my mouth opens in wordless agony as the Thing bites my neck. And then—

  "Wake up, Alice," says the Voice. The same smooth male voice I heard before. The same mocking tone. "Alice, wake up."

  I'm awake, and I'm sobbing and trembling so hard I can't even get out of bed to flip on the overhead light. With shaking fingers I manage to turn on my bedside lamp. I'm a mess, all tears and snot and coughing sobs.

 
I'm not even trying to stay quiet. Maybe if I cry loudly enough, one of the Korrigan will come in and ask what's wrong. But no one comes. Their rooms are probably too far away for them to hear me. Or they don't care.

  Maybe I'm being silly. After all, these are my first real nightmares— they probably just seem unbearable because I'm not used to them.

  This is a normal human thing, right? I should be able to handle it.

  I struggle out of the damp sheets and slide into my computer chair. The bluish glow of the laptop is comforting, somehow. With trembling fingers I type, "how to get rid of nightmares."

  Number one on the list— "set a regular sleep schedule." I snort with nervous laughter. That could be my problem, for sure.

  The other ideas— exercise, eliminating caffeine and alcohol, not watching horror movies before bed— don't seem to apply to me.

  I click the X to close the browser tab— or at least I try, but my hands haven't recovered their control quite yet and the mouse shakes. I end up clicking a tab that's still open, the Irish mythology website I was reading earlier in the evening.

  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 worst of nightmares.

  The Far Darrig.

  I picture a loathsome splotchy toad of a man, dressed in a red coat and hat, gleefully rubbing his palms together as he spins horrific dreams just for me.

  Could he be here? In the house?

  I leap up and check under the bed, in the closet, in the bathroom. He's nowhere in my rooms. I lock the bedroom door and double-check that the windows are closed tight and latched.

  "You're being ridiculous, Aislinn," I tell myself aloud. "It's just a story. And they're just dreams."

  Still, I can't bring myself to get back into bed. Instead, I curl up in my big, comfy blue armchair, drape myself with my favorite pink blanket, and watch TV on my laptop.

  The next thing I know, sunlight is streaming through the curtains. My laptop slipped from my relaxed hands hours ago and lies on the rug by the chair. The night is over.

  I'm so relieved I could cry.

  On the way to the bathroom, I wake up my laptop, planning to turn it off. There's a notification on the screen.

  I have an email from Zane.

  Hey Aislinn, really enjoyed hanging out with you. I'd like to see you again sometime. You got any free time this week, or the weekend?

  Hit me back.

  -Zane

  By the end of the email I'm grinning like an idiot. He likes me! He wants to see me again!

  And he spelled my name right.

  But it's too soon to jump into something like this. I just got my days. Maybe I only feel like this because he was pretty much the first guy I saw in the sunlight. There are millions of guys my age in the world— and I'd be crazy to fall for this one.

  I'm totally crazy. But at least I can pretend I'm not. So I reply to his email:

  Hey Zane,

  I liked hanging out with you too. If you and the guys want to do something this weekend, I'd love to join you.

  Nope. Too stilted. I backspace "I'd love to join you." Instead I type:

  If you and the guys want to do something this weekend, I'm down with it.

  No, that's not my style either. Sounds like I'm trying too hard.

  If you and the guys want to do something this weekend, I'm in. Let me know.

  See you then.

  -Aislinn

  Much better. Not too eager, and I made it clear that I want our interaction to be as part of a group, for now. I feel very proud of myself for being so mature.

  Now I just have to wait for the weekend.

  I shower and dress in a daze, the nightmares nearly forgotten. If I think about Zane, I don't have to think of the pale, putrid monsters and their screams and their rows of yellow teeth.

  When I come downstairs, Magnolia is making breakfast. Sausage, eggs, waffles. The kind of food they ate while I was roaring and clawing in my dungeon a few dozen feet below the breakfast table. Gemma and Gillian are watching a morning TV show, and Arden already has her laptop out.

  "It smells divine!" I snatch a piece of sausage. It's so hot, I have to toss it between my fingertips till it cools enough to eat.

  "How was your first night?" asks Magnolia, her round face dimpling.

  I stare into her blue eyes, rimmed with pale red lashes. She's completely serious. So the nightmares aren't normal, then.

  "Um, it was fine." I pop the hot sausage into my mouth so I don't have to elaborate.

  Arden glances over at me. "You'll need to do some lessons today. Calculus, chemistry, and start on The Great Gatsby."

  "Mmm, the Roaring Twenties." Gillian tilts her head back and closes her eyes. "Remember those days, Gemma?"

  "I remember Philip," says Gemma, and they both burst into giggles.

  Arden rolls her eyes. "It never gets old with you two, does it? Chasing the boys? You know what I remember about the twenties? Women could finally work some of the same jobs as men. And you two should thank me and Maeve that you could afford the dresses and jewels you wore to those parties."

  "We got jewels and dresses on our own, too," Gemma says, with a pretend pout.

  "Mostly from Philip," Gillian whispers loudly, and they dissolve into giggles again.

  I don't mind the homework— at least the literature part. I've been looking forward to reading Gatsby ever since I saw the movie— well, movies. I've seen the 1974 and 2013 versions.

  Maeve's voice comes from behind me, so close that I jump a little. "Aislinn has some other homework to do as well," she says. "Finding a suitable alternative to the first mark."

  The others are quiet. Gemma and Gillian go back to their show, and Magnolia acts very busy with the breakfast. Only Arden stays still, watching me and Maeve.

  I was expecting this, but not so soon. Not right after my First Day.

  "I have time," I say.

  "One lunar cycle; not much time to find another mark. We need to start planning now." She nods to Arden.

  Arden makes most of the money for the family. I've never talked to her about it, because she doesn't usually want to talk to me— but I've known for a long time that it has something to do with hacking, or cracking, or both. She's also the one who finds marks for the Korrigan when they want to beef up their Life-Stream supply.

  "I've been thinking about your next mark," Arden says. "We could send you after a drunk or an addict, but that would require you going into unsavory parts of town. There's also the possibility of a babysitting gig, but then I wouldn't necessarily be able to find and disable any nanny cams to ensure that you're not caught on video."

  "I'm hearing problems, not solutions, Arden," says Maeve.

  "Do you have any ideas?" Arden's tone is clipped and cold.

  As Maeve hesitates, my brain races with possibilities. A Korrigan can Life-Steal from anyone, except another Korrigan. We use babies because they sleep a lot, they can't defend themselves, and they won't remember what happened. Plus, they have a lot of Life-Stream to spare.

  The problem with using babies these days is the heightened security around everything. Home security systems, video baby monitors, hospital security, hidden nanny cams— it's all very tight.

  "We might have to use a hospital," says Maeve.

  I gasp. "No way."

  "If I disabled the cameras, temporarily, got access to the doors— it could work," Arden says.

  "No," I say. "I'm not sneaking into a hospital to Life-Steal. I almost got caught once already; this would be way more dangerous."

  "Not if you go in at night. Arden will handle the cameras and security systems, and Gillian will take care of distracting any nurses or security personnel."

  "I will?" Gillian doesn't look happy with the idea.

  "Ladies, we've done this many times," says Maeve. "We'll use t
he hospital on the other side of town; Arden's been in the system before, and we know the layout."

  Arden nods. "I'll get in and check on the guard rotation, cleaning schedules, and shift changes."

  I stare at the platters of steaming food set out on the kitchen island. Suddenly I'm not as hungry as I was. Maybe it's the idea of trying to sneak into a hospital full of patients, doctors, nurses, and security guards to Life-Steal from a newborn baby?

  Are they insane?

  Magnolia pushes a plate into my hands. "Eat up," she says. "You've got a big week ahead of you."

  I load the plate with eggs, sausage, and a big waffle. Gillian and Gemma are sprawling on one couch, so I curl up on the other to try to enjoy my breakfast.

  The news is coming on as I take the first bite. I'm barely listening until Gillian says, "Maeve." Her voice is taut, intense. Frightened? I've never heard her sound like this.

  Maeve looks up from her magazine. "What is it?"

  Gillian points at the TV. The reporter is discussing a rash of infant kidnappings. Horrible. Who would do something like that? As soon as the thought crosses my mind, another one clicks into place. Korrigan. We would do something like that.

  "Wait, is one of you— are you guys responsible for this?" My voice quavers.

  "No, idiot," says Gillian. "Maeve, do you think it could be— "

  "Silence," Maeve hisses. She steps closer to the television. "Turn it up."

  The broadcast lasts a few minutes— long enough for me to know that our hospital plan is shot to hell. Extra security measures are being put in place at local hospitals, along with more guards and cameras. No way am I sneaking in to Life-Steal and getting away with it.

  Instead of being disappointed, I'm relieved. I take another bite of eggs and sausage.

  Gemma stands up, fear in her eyes. "It's him," she says. "It's got to be."

  "No," says Gillian. "We had an agreement. He stays away from us, we stay away from him. The world is big enough for us to coexist as long as we're far apart."