Her fingers close around my wrist. "Come on."
We go inside, down a long black hallway lit only by the jerky, flashing light from her phone as she hurries along.
Suddenly, in the shadows ahead, I see a couple of shadows moving on their own. Strange, lumpy shadows. My breath stops.
"What was that?" I gasp.
"Just— nothing. Up here." We're going through a door, up a flight of steps. Something is very wrong.
"Arden, stop. This is crazy."
Her grip on my wrist tightens; she's practically dragging me along now, up another flight of stairs and down a hallway and through a pair of swinging doors.
Into a huge room, all dusty and cobwebby in the dim, distant corners, and brightly lit by fierce white lights in the center. My peripheral vision picks up on some broken equipment, tables, crates, a chair or two. But I focus on the center of the room, where stands a familiar figure dressed in red.
Far Darrig.
I have to warn Arden— we have to leave—
"My lord," Arden says. "Forgive the delay."
My world as I know it flips over.
The Far Darrig turns, the bright light glowing on the planes of his perfect face. "It's all right, Arden. This was worth waiting for."
I stare at Arden. "You brought me to him? Why?"
"I have my reasons."
"That's not an answer."
"If you ladies are finished with your chat," says the Far Darrig. "We have work to do."
I hold up my hand. "Wait. Just wait. Arden, you knew about him, the whole time. At the hotel, and afterward."
"Of course she did," he interrupts impatiently. "From the minute I came to town she was happy to help me. She even delivered that little ruby dream necklace."
"You made me dream those horrible things?"
"Before I got to know you, love. And I didn't control the content of the dream— I just opened a door, so to speak, and kept an eye on what you saw. But since we met face to face, your dreams have been better, yes?"
He's smirking. He knows about the dream with the grass, and the kissing; he could see it all. I flush scarlet. To cover my embarrassment I whirl on Arden. "I trusted you. More than the others. You've all lied to me so many times, but I thought you were different. How could you do this?"
She looks at me, and I see pain shining out of her eyes. "Because I hate what I am. And he promised to take it away."
"A cure?"
She nodded. "A reversal, actually. Removal of the curse."
I move closer to the Far Darrig and force myself to look straight into his eyes. I need him to tell me the truth right now; but whatever power I have over him, it's fragile, like a spider's web. I have to use it carefully.
"Are you so powerful?" I soften my voice with admiration. "You can— fix us?"
He actually looks a little ashamed. "I told her what I had to, love. I'm sorry, but the curse can't be changed."
Arden's face whitens. "You promised. You told me you could do it!"
Whirling on her, he says, "Fool! Don't you think if I could have reversed it, I would have done so? I lost my appetite for revenge long ago!" It's more emotion than I've ever seen from him, and it scares me. But the next second, he has control of himself, and the fire in his silver eyes cools.
He turns those luminous eyes on me next. "Besides, darling, why would you want to be 'fixed?' You're perfect as you are. You are Korrigan, Life-Stealer Immortal, of the line of the Warrior Queen of Connacht. You are a goddess." His fingers trail through the ends of my hair. "Together, we can unlock the secrets of untold power."
Maybe it's the nerves, but his grandiose language strikes me as incredibly funny. I smother a giggle behind my hand. Arden's eyes widen in shock— and so do the Far Darrig's.
"You laugh?" he says.
"I'm sorry," I say, swallowing back another laugh. "You're just— you sound like some kind of Dark Lord or Evil Emperor or something. 'Untold power' and whatever. I mean, really? I can't do anything special."
"That's where you're wrong." He's smiling now, too, but it's the kind of smile that drains the laughter right out of me. "I may have a way to— let's say, give you a 'level up.' That's something you teens understand, right? I can't use this method myself because of who— or what— I am, but you are the granddaughter of the original Korrigan, and you carry your father's unique bloodline."
My father, the druid.
"You can do this," says the Far Darrig. "Aislinn, I have a theory you can siphon not only life, but powers as well. And I have the perfect cup from which you may drink."
He barks a harsh order in the Old Tongue, and two leprechauns enter, dragging between them what looks like a child.
"What are you doing?" I gasp.
He tucks his fingers under the child's chin and lifts its face. Now I can see that it's not a child, but a young woman— very slight and small and blond, dressed in a pink tee and jeans.
"This is a pixie," he says. "They are just big enough to pass themselves off as short, skinny humans. Excellent at finding things, pixies. Things— and people. This one works for a private investigator. She puts her talents to good use for him, don't you now?"
The pixie's teeth are gritted tightly together, her breath hissing between them. Her grey-green eyes are wide with terror. The Far Darrig walks over to her and leans down, running his finger under her chin and whispering something that makes her tremble more.
"Here begins the second lesson," he says, standing. "You know that Korrigan can't Life-Steal from each other. However, you can steal from others— human or Fae. And when you steal from a Fae, you may see the Life-Stream along with something else— I've tried calling it the power cord or power line, but those sound too— electric. Maybe you can think of a better term." He smiles like he expects me to think his play on words is funny. I don't crack a smile. Not even a little.
"Taking the Life-Stream is easy, but taking the powers requires a unique kind of magic, one that I don't possess. I suspect it takes someone with actual druid blood, which I never had, being Tuatha Dé Danann. But you, Aislinn, are descended in a straight line from the most powerful druid family in Ireland. Your blood is as pure as can be had these days. If you can manage to draw out the pixie's powers, you'll gain her particular skill set— or part of it. I'm really not sure. Let's find out, shall we?"
At the crook of his finger, the leprechauns drag the pixie closer to me. I see the raw fear in her eyes, and I wonder why she doesn't scream.
"Will it hurt her?" I ask.
"I really don't know," says the Far Darrig. He steps back to lean against the wall beside Arden, and she recoils from him. "Do it anyway, darling, and let's see what happens."
"I can't," I say. "I've never done this to anyone awake before. Only once, and it was a baby, asleep."
"Yes, they're delightful, aren't they? It's easy with the little ones." He smiles, and I feel a stab of hate for him. My anger is like a flame, growing stronger. "Don't worry, Aislinn, this will be just as simple."
"I won't do it." I stand as straight as I can, even though I feel the weight of what he could do to me in the pit of my stomach.
He pushes himself away from the wall and strides toward me. I realize that I'm shaking, and I curse myself for being so weak.
"Aislinn." He runs both hands down my arms, making me shiver. There's a faint buzzing all over my skin, the vibrations of spellwork. His voice is so silky, so beautiful, saying a series of gentle Gaelic words. And then— "Please, Aislinn. For me?"
"All right," I hear myself saying. I know I'm being controlled. Once again I'm a passenger inside my body, under the domination of someone else, forced to watch from my inner cage while I do things— while I hurt people.
I try not to. I try so hard. Inside I'm screaming, writhing, fighting for choice. But his spell is like a hand around my soul, crushing my will.
Gently I coax out the golden Life Stream while the pixie writhes on the floor. She fights so hard that the leprechauns holding her have to pier
ce her skin with their claws to keep her still. There's an edge to her Life-Stream, a pinkish aura that I can feel. I bend my mind to it— and suddenly it splits from the glittering Life Stream and curls in the air, like a skein of rosy smoke.
"Amazing!" says the Far Darrig. "You did it, Aislinn! Now take it— take it all!"
I draw the pink smoke into myself, every last bit. The pixie arches her back and opens her mouth in a voiceless scream, and suddenly I know why she never made a sound. The Far Darrig silenced her voice.
As the last whiff of pink smoke disappears into my own chest, I feel a strange stirring within myself. Something new is here, something more.
Again that low, lovely voice in my ear. "Now the Life-Stream, Aislinn. All of it."
No.
"You need it. You need days, and here they are. She's useless without her powers— she'll be a disgrace to her race. You'll be doing her a kindness."
The words sound wrong to me, but I can't resist him— I'm already drawing in the golden strand of life. Tears stream down my cheeks as I absorb all the life that the pixie has left— she should have lived another hundred years. She deflates into cold, empty clay at my feet.
He lets me go, and I sink to the floor under the weight of her days. I cannot feel. I cannot think. I sit still, barely hearing the Far Darrig's voice at my ear, like a voice far away under water. "Aislinn. Aislinn." It registers, somewhere deep in my brain, that he sounds concerned.
How long I sit there, I don't know. But I'm dimly aware that the body has been moved, that someone lifted me and put me on a chair. That Arden spoke to me a few times, although I don't remember what she said.
I cannot move. If I move I will know what I've done.
I know it's morning now, because the lighting in the room is brighter. Rays of sun fall across my hands, as they lie limply in my lap.
There's a breath on my cheek, and the softest of whispers. "I did it. Not you."
It's that husky, beautiful voice. The one I now hate.
The sting of tears starts behind my eyes.
"This seemed like a small price to give you a gift, but— I forget how fragile the young are. How innocent. How unlike me."
He's kneeling close to me, speaking in the gentlest of tones. I hate him with all my might. He has taken something from me that I always took for granted, that I never even knew I prized until it was too late. Despite what I am, despite everything I've been through and the lies I've been told, I had never killed anyone. And he took that from me. Ripped it out of my soul and left a ragged, gaping hole— a hole that I am filling with hatred.
He killed my parents. He made me a killer. Fine. I'll kill him.
I clench my teeth so hard I'm afraid they will crack; but I manage to hold back the tears. "What else can they do?" I hiss through my teeth.
"What?"
"The pixies. What can they do besides find things?"
"Not much that's useful. They're great dancers, and they can charm others into dancing with them. And they can conceal objects or people from other pixies. But I'm not sure how those powers will manifest with you, if at all."
I'll have to get more power if I'm going to kill him.
"I want more," I say.
"More what?" He looks confused.
"Powers," I say. "Where can I get more?"
In the little time I've known him, he's never been speechless. Not once. But now he stares at me, his lips parted in surprise, gray eyes wide.
"Your leprechauns, they can turn invisible, right? Disappear and reappear somewhere else? Bring me one of them." I stand, and he stands with me; but my legs tremble and I almost fall. He catches me, his hands around my waist. The folds of his red dress shirt feel cool and crisp against my heated skin. I want to lean into him; but I hate him, so I shove him away.
"Give me a leprechaun."
He sighs. "Not now, love. We need to wait, to see how the pixie's power will show itself, and how your body will adjust. In time, I'll find you another prize worthy of your efforts."
I push myself free of his hold. "Fine. Then I'm leaving now. Unless you have plans to coerce me into being your slave girl."
His eyes narrow. "I wouldn't."
"Really?" I shrug. "I don't think there's much you wouldn't do."
My legs are stronger and steadier now, and I stride to the doorway with my head high. Arden follows me, her face white.
The hallways of the old mill building are like a maze, but somehow I know exactly where I'm going. I select every corridor, every stairway without pausing, and soon we're out in the fresh air.
And the sun has risen.
For a moment we stand, side by side, feeling its light on our faces. In spite of what I did, I feel grateful for the day.
"We can't tell anyone about this," I say.
Arden nods, wordless. She knows that the role she played would get her banned from the house, or worse. And I have no idea how Maeve would react to my new status as power-drinker and killer of pixies.
"We'll tell them the story I told you, about the wanted man," says Arden quietly. "They'll believe me."
"Figure out the story, and I'll back you up. We can run through the details on the way home."
"Or—" She pauses.
"What?"
"What if we didn't go back? Or we go back, and then we leave?"
"Leave? The two of us? You mean, for good?"
"Tell me you don't want to." Arden glances at me, eyes bright.
It's not even a question. Yes, it's my home, the one I've lived in the longest. It's also my prison. A place of pain, and darkness, and loneliness, and lies.
Heck yes, I want to leave.
"Do you?" I ask.
"I have for years. Never found the right time, or the right reason. The Far Darrig was going to give me a reason, but— I was a fool to think he would honor the bargain. But we can go, the two of us. Start fresh. See more of the world, experience more. Surely, even after all these years, I can find something new under the sun."
The thought of it makes me giddy. "Okay, so how do we do this? We need money."
"Oh honey." Arden gives me a rare smile. "I have my own money. And so do you. I can help you access the money your parents' left you, from their insurance policies."
I have money. My own money. I didn't know— Maeve never told me. The amount doesn't matter right now so much as the fact that it's mine, and I can use it, with Arden's help.
We hurry to Arden's car. "We'll have to plan this carefully," she says. "I've been the one hiding the Korrigan's tracks and making most of the money for years. Maeve is not going to let me go easily. And you're her granddaughter. She'll want to keep you there, as a matter of pride."
"Won't she be able to find us, with pixies?" I ask.
"Well, if the Far Darrig's idea worked, and you now have pixie powers, you'll be able to hide us from other pixies. You'll need to practice a bit, but it should work."
The drive home passes too quickly. Arden doesn't stop jabbering about our plans for escape, and I'm glad for the distraction because it muffles the guilt and horror I'm feeling over what I did earlier today. Now and then glimpses of the lifeless pixie appear in my mind. Her thin white face, slack and expressionless. Her empty hands, fingers half-curled. Her legs, one crossed over the other, a damp spot between them where her body let go after her spirit did.
I'm going to throw up.
I fight down the nausea and focus on Arden's voice. She doesn't seem to be bothered by what I did. She probably knew it was part of the plan all along. Or if she was shocked, she's hiding it well so I can focus on the problem at hand.
If there's one silver lining to the whole sickening mess, it's that I have days. Thousand of them. I won't need to worry about Life-Stealing for a very long time. Arden tells me she's never seen any Korrigan take Life-Stream from a Fae— so either it's just not done, or it can't be done without that extra dose of druid blood. I feel like there's so much I don't know about magic and how it works— so much un
der the surface. I'm only seeing the tip of the iceberg, and I want to dive down into the icy water and know more.
When I join everyone for breakfast, Maeve doesn't say a word. Just marches over to me, grabs my shoulders painfully tight in her long, bony fingers, and marches me away to her office. Arden follows, unasked, and we tell our tale. I see something in Maeve's eyes— suspicion, maybe? After all, this is the second time Arden and I have spun a tale for her. Arden is an exceptional liar, adding in just enough detail to make it seem absolutely real. Still, I have a feeling that Maeve knows we're up to something.
But all she says when we finish is, "You're a lucky girl, Aislinn. And Arden— good work."
She rises from behind her desk. "Aislinn, I know you've been seeing those human friends of yours nearly every day during the past month. I'm not as blind or uncaring, as you may think. Why do you think I've allowed you this freedom?"
At first I think she's going to answer the question herself, but after a minute or two of silence I realize I'm supposed to respond. "Because you love me?"
It's a challenge, and a plea.
"Because I'm trying to determine if you're worthy of trust. Keep in mind that any breach of my trust will result in danger to all of us, and may necessitate another move. I'm sure you'd hate to leave your humans behind."
A threat, then. Of course.
"I'll be careful."
"If we should have to leave because of you, you can count on a certain period of confinement, whether you have days or not. Intransigent children must be tamed."
Oh my gosh, did she really just say that to me? I try hard not to crack a smile; I know the last thing Maeve wants is to be ridiculed. After all these centuries, she still demands respect and fealty, and I have to give it to her, at least for now.
Bowing or curtsying would be over the top. She would know I'm laughing at her. So I settle for a deep nod, and a meek reply. "I understand. Thank you for your patience with me, Grandmother."
"Never call me that again."
"Of course."
She breezes past me, heading back to the kitchen. Arden and I exchange sideways glances, and she gives me one of her rare smiles. "Nice work."
I return to the kitchen later, after Maeve has left. Before filling a plate, I pull out my phone and text Zane.
Korrigan (Secrets of the Fae Book 1) Page 15
