When he says the words, the first person to enter my mind is Zane. Not Magnolia, or Maeve, but the tall boy with the brown eyes. Then Latesha, Aaron, and Kali. Baby Dallas. And Julio, and Laurel, and Mike, and even Frank. My real family.
But the Far Darrig is still speaking, and he's circling me now, pacing around me like a cat. "Lesson One will be hard for you, love. You may hate me for it at first, but it's necessary. I'm going to show you just how important those days are, and what happens when you don't get them."
He whispers in the Old Tongue, and I feel spellwork fizzing around me. Not again.
"Please." I let the tears pool in my eyes, hoping he'll pity me. "Don't do this to me. You know I hate it. I need to control my own choices."
He caresses my cheek with his fingertips. "I know, and you will. But you're still very young, and there are things you need to learn. You'll thank me, in time."
Slipping his hand into my back pocket, he pulls out my phone. "I'll keep this safe." Then he strides away, across the clearing, twirling my phone in his fingers. "Have a pleasant romp today."
"No." I suddenly realize what he is doing. "No!"
He has bound me with a spell. I can't move— not until the sunrise comes and the Beast takes over. He's setting my monster loose. Outside the dungeon.
I rage and scream and shriek his name. I call for help, and I struggle to summon someone, anyone, with the sheer force of my will. But I don't have that magical knowledge or the necessary powers, and I'm too deep in the forest for anyone to hear me.
By the time the sky starts to lighten, I'm sweating, shaking, and exhausted. I feel the stirring of the magic through me, reverberating till I can't stand it, and I scream again. The dark tendrils of matter erupt from my body, winding around me and imprisoning me. Drowning me. I fight for consciousness, but it's too late. I am too deeply buried.
I will never forgive him for this.
12
HUMAN
Zane
I rub my aching eyes and close my notebook. I've been up since 5:30, squeezing in last-minute studying for a test. It's about 6:40 now, and the first light of sunrise beams through my window.
Time to shower and get ready for school, before my little sister takes over the bathroom.
I strip off my shirt, but before I can head for the bathroom, my phone buzzes. My heart speeds up when I see it's Aislinn calling.
I answer. "Hey girl! Are you feeling better? What you doin' up so early? I thought you homeschoolers got to sleep in."
"Actually, no," she says. "But of course you're welcome to your little prejudices." Her voice sounds stiff, unpleasant.
"Everything okay? We cool?"
"I'm calling to tell you that we can't see each other anymore," she says. "You're just not the right type of guy for me."
"Um, okay." I feel suddenly hollow. "Did I do something? Can I— fix it?"
"It's not so much what you do as what you are," she says coldly. "I just think you're kind of useless. Lazy. Dumb. A trouble-maker, without much of a future. Probably jail-bait. You're not worth my time."
My brain echoes the words over and over, trying to process.
"Did you really just say that to me?"
"Yeah, I think I did," she says. "So long, Zane."
And then she is gone.
I feel the heat in my face, a furnace behind my eyes. My anger is a grenade that I lock in my chest, absorbing the explosions so that no one else has to feel them but me.
Right now, it's all I can do to hold it in— so I race out of my room, down the stairs, and out the back door.
I run through backyards, hoisting myself over fences and dropping down like a cat. Most of these people know me and don't care; even if they did, I'd like to see them try to catch me. I picture my legs like a blur of motion— I'm the Flash, a streak of light slicing through the neighborhood.
There's a stretch of forest just beyond the last row of houses. I run into it, and feel the trees close around me. But they don't fence me in. Here I am free. Here, I can breathe again.
And I got to breathe, cause I've been running at top speed for fifteen minutes straight.
I don't need direction, and I have nowhere to be. I just walk and snap branches over my thigh and soak in the quiet until I feel quiet, too. I am part of nature, like my ancestors from the plains across the sea, like the native Americans that lived here long before us. I practice walking quiet as I can, the outer edge of my foot touching the ground first, easing into each step.
Something crunches and crashes up ahead. I stop. I've never heard anything in a South Carolina forest make that kind of noise. Bear, maybe?
The heavy rustling and crunching continues. Something massive is crashing through the underbrush, flattening everything in its way.
Then I see it.
My brain won't take in the sight at first. It is Other. It doesn't belong.
Something huge and hulking among the trees. Something with massive rounded shoulders and a long, slithery body, all of it coated in coarse white fur— not a snowy white or a sugary white— a sick, dead kind of white.
What the hell? My throat is suddenly bone-dry. Run, run! says part of my brain, but another part wants to stick with this, see what happens.
I take one step forward for a better look, careful not to put my weight on crunchy leaves or brittle twigs.
The creature was looking away from me, but its head suddenly snaps around. The neck is grossly long and flexible for its hulking body. The head is blunt, with slanted eyes and two long slits for nostrils. I can see those nostrils stretching, getting my scent. Damn it!
Shifting on its ponderous paws, the creature snakes its neck toward me, lightning quick. That horrible blunt head and those flaring nostrils are just a few feet away. The lips wrinkle and pull back, and three rows of jagged teeth flash as the beast screams.
Run now. But my legs are jelly, and there's no way I could outrun the thing.
I've gone batshit crazy, and I'm going to wake up in a psych ward. That, or I'm going to end up in rotting pieces, fertilizing the forest floor.
It steps toward me, standing up on all four— no, six— legs, and I can see just how massive this thing is. Something slithers through the trees on my right. A white snake? No, the beast's tail, whisking across the leaves as the creature moves.
You wanna die? Move your butt! This time it's my mom's voice in my head, the voice that demands a good Southern "Yes ma'am" and you better jump or else! So I jump, and I run.
I tear through the trees faster than I ever have, picking my feet up high so I won't trip. The Thing is crunching and thudding after me. Then something long and white whirls around my legs and I'm falling, crashing onto my shoulder— a spike of pain that I almost don't feel because I'm going to die.
I flip from my side onto my back, and the Thing's face is right there. I can see the rows of teeth, yellowed at the roots and stark white at the tip, sticking out of dark purple gums. Drool beads on one of the top teeth and drips onto my chest, and the gust of foul air from its dark throat makes me gag.
The creature turns its head a little. It's looking at me with those slits of eyes. It shakes its head and screams again, and I want to scream but I'm not seventeen anymore, I'm a little kid who just met the monster under the bed and I can't make a sound.
The Thing is bobbing its head up and down. It takes a step back, then shuffles forward. If I didn't know better, I'd say it's fighting its impulse to rip me apart.
Suddenly its head dives down to mine again, jaws open, and it screams in my face. It is so close I feel two of its sharp teeth nick my jaw as it lifts its head.
And then it gallops away into the trees, its tail slithering away from my legs.
I'm shaking so hard I can't get up for a good five minutes. When I do get up, I want to run but my legs won't work right. I've got to go slowly for a while until my urge to get the hell out of there gives me strength to run.
13
SECRETS
&nbs
p; Aislinn
When I wake up, I'm in a place I don't recognize.
Beyond a wall of windows is the dark blue evening sky, dotted with a few pink-edged clouds. A lovely mid-century modern table with two chairs stands before the window, with a tiny sculpture of a dancing woman on it. The sculpture is old, and the table is new.
I sit up, and the velvety blanket slides off me. Quickly I snatch it back into place. What am I wearing? The aqua blue dress is so short it barely covers my upper thighs, and the neckline plunges much lower than I'm used to.
Far Darrig.
I scan the loft, and sure enough, there he is, sitting not far away, watching me. He's dressed in jeans and a dark red T-shirt, and he looks infuriatingly handsome.
"Pervert," I spit at him.
"Guilty." He doesn't look the least bit ashamed. "But I didn't go further than looking, if that's what you're worried about."
Shaking with rage, I stand up. "Like you care about my autonomy at all. You left me in the woods to turn. I will never forgive you for that, never, never!" Don't cry, idiot. Not in front of him. Stupid, weak, wimpy—
But it's too late, and no amount of self-scolding will stop the tears now. I turn away from those ancient silver eyes and try to keep the sobs under control. After a moment his hand reaches over my shoulder, holding a box of tissues. I snatch two and push the box away as hard as I can.
Finally I manage to ask the important questions. "What happened today? Did anyone see me? Did I— did I eat anyone?"
"No, and no," he replies. "My creatures kept you distracted and confined to the woods. Well, there was one witness. Even I couldn't have planned it more perfectly." He grinned.
"Who?"
"That human boy you seem to like. Zane?"
Any energy or strength I have left drains from my body. I sink onto the edge of the bed. "Is he— is he all right?"
"You almost chomped his head right off," says the Far Darrig carelessly. "Personally I was hoping you would. But at the last second you let him go."
"I let him go?" I don't remember the encounter at all.
"It was interesting, really. I suppose some subconscious part of you was strong enough to turn the Beast back."
He sits down beside me, and I scoot away from him. "Can I just say, you were glorious! I watched the whole thing, from a distance. The power, the speed of you— it was incredible."
"It wasn't me," I said.
"No, of course not. But still— and did you know that your beast looks nothing like any of the other Korrigan? Completely different from anything I have ever seen in this world. There's something in that, though I'm not sure yet what it means. It's intriguing!" He rubs his hands together. "You have no idea how exciting this is for me, having something new to see, work to do. It makes me feel alive again!"
Again, I'm startled by how open he is with me. And in spite of my anger I'm curious. Who is he, exactly? What is he? And how is he connected to my family, to the Korrigan?
"So, who are you really?" I say, before thinking it through. "What's your deal?"
His handsome face, lit up with excitement, softens suddenly. He comes near me, his wavy black hair falling over his forehead, the faint freckles on his cheeks giving him an innocent look. His mouth quirks in a sexy little smile. "You really want to know me?"
Danger, danger! screams the rational, non-hormonal part of my brain. I change my mind immediately.
"Never mind." I back away, tugging down the hemline of the skimpy blue dress. "I just want to go home." He's coming even closer, so I try to change the subject. "How did you get me up here without anyone seeing us?"
"With the help of my leprechauns, and my own talent for invisibility," he says. "I can't stay invisible for longer than a few minutes, especially not when I'm covering for two, but it was just long enough. So you see, no one knows you're here."
Here in a gorgeously appointed downtown loft with the Far Darrig, the Red One— who, according to the old tales, used to lure unsuspecting travelers into bogs and serve them roasted hag on a spit.
Gulping, I move toward the door. "I'm leaving now," I say, trying to sound bold and sure of myself. Of course it comes out too loud, too nervous.
"I'll give you a choice," he says. "You can leave now and find your own way home. Or you can stay, and I'll tell you my story, and then call you a taxi later."
As much as I hate to admit it to myself, it is a tempting offer. If he's going to be here, in this area, I need to know what he's all about— and I doubt my guardians will tell me everything. This could be my only chance for some real information.
I let go of the door handle. "Ground rules," I say. "You can't do that magical binding thing on me. And you don't touch me or kiss me."
He smiles. "Afraid you'll like it too much?"
"Not even."
"I agree to your terms. Please, have a seat." He gestures to the couch. I choose a chair instead. Shrugging, he seats himself in the chair nearest me, a few feet away, where I could touch him if I stretched out my arm.
"I was born Midir, one of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the god-race. You've heard of them?" He says it proudly, like I should be impressed. Darn it. I am impressed.
"Magnolia mentioned the Tuatha Dé Danann in her stories," I say. "I didn't realize they actually existed."
"They did. I'm one of the last," he says. "So you see, I'm not exactly human.
"In the old days, when I was young, the Tuatha Dé Danann were fading from the land, and some of us were being hunted by warlords. To hide my identity, I used the supernatural power I had to take on the role of a druid. My skills became so renowned that word of me reached the ear of Queen Medb, or Maeve, as you know her now."
I have done enough internet research about my people and their past to know about Queen Medb of the Ulster cycle. Hers was a long, terrible, and violent story; but I had always thought that the shared name between her and my guardian was a coincidence. Like there were many Sarahs and Marys in the world, I figured that there must have been any number of Maeves in old Ireland. Plus, hadn't Queen Medb died?
"Wait, wait," I say. "You're saying that Queen Medb is Maeve? My grandmother?"
"One and the same."
"You worked for her? What happened?"
"I failed her. She wanted me to tell her the future, and I could not. I faked the prophecy, and when it was proven untrue, she had my family killed."
"Your family?"
"My parents were long gone, but she had my uncle and his family slaughtered, and my sister, and finally my wife, Etain. She and her soldiers chased Etain and I for days— she came along personally to see the task done. With her came her group of women— warriors, servants, and friends who did everything she asked. My wife used to be one of them."
Women who were her warriors, friends, and servants. The Korrigan.
He's looking at me with old pain churning in those silver eyes. "I hope you never have to know what it's like to be hunted like animals, to feel like the prey of a monster. I used every charm and spell I knew to turn her back, but she had pixie trackers with her, and there was nothing I could do to hide from them.
"When Maeve finally caught us, she had Etain killed on the spot." He pauses, looking down at his hands. "Do you know, I don't even remember my wife's face anymore? I lost the memory centuries ago. But I remember the color of Etain's blood as it pooled around her, and I remember lying beside her and holding her while her life-blood soaked my clothes. The whole world seemed colorless, but her blood was ruby-red. And I keep that color with me always."
I stare at him, horrified and sad at the same time. After a second, I reach out and touch one of the hands he is twisting together. I disentangle it from the other and hold it in mine. I hope he knows it's not a romantic gesture— just a bit of comfort to a fellow soul in pain.
He draws in a deep breath. "Maeve had leprechauns in her service too, and she ordered them to kill me. But I made a deal with their leader, and we fooled her. She thought I was dead. And I fled
far north where I could deal with my grief and plan my revenge.
"The real druids hated me for pretending to be one of them; but while I was in the North I found an old, outcast druid who offered to help me. Together, we designed a curse— a combination of two old spells, one for stealing life and another ancient rite for summoning a demon from the Otherworld, with some revenge magic thrown in. The curse would last from dawn to sunset, and would cause Maeve and her circle of women to transform into ravenous demon-beasts. Only by draining life from others could they turn back into themselves during the sun's hours.
"I thought it was the perfect plan. As beasts, Maeve and her ladies would kill most of the court, and then when they turned back into their weakened human forms, I expected the people of the kingdom to rise up and kill them.
"But the curse took on a life of its own. The beasts it summoned were more terrible than I ever imagined, and harder to kill. And then there was Maeve herself— I hadn't counted on her ruthlessness and her will. She adapted so quickly, figured out how to Life-Steal, and disappeared with her women. There was a ridiculous story about her death, but I knew better than to believe it.
"After that, I had to flee again. Maeve found ways to spread lies and rumors about me, terrible things to frighten the peasants. So I went far away with the leprechauns, and with their magic I hid from her. And I built my own legend, the myth of a powerful trickster dressed in red, who should be avoided and feared. I became Far Darrig, and they became Korrigan."
"Did you know you were giving them immortality?" I ask.
"They're not actually immortal— they will die someday. But it will be a millennium or more from now. And no, I didn't realize it. When we cast the curse I used my own blood, and I suppose the long life of the Tuatha Dé Danann entered the mix because of it. Druid magic is bloody, and messy, and the results are never quite what you expect."
Korrigan (Secrets of the Fae Book 1) Page 12
