He hates that kind of talk. I mean, really hates it. A dangerous light shines in his eyes, and when he reaches for me, I run. I'm laughing and almost tripping in my heels, and he's just about to catch me— and then I transport ahead a few yards, out of his reach.
"Not fair," he shouts. Then he disappears.
That's right. I forgot he can go invisible for a few minutes at a time. Crap. There's no one along the street except a homeless guy who's snoring, so I transport again, further along the sidewalk. My heart is racing as I slip off my high heels so I can run better.
"Aislinn." A voice at my elbow. I spin around, but there's nothing. No one. I run back the way I came.
"Aislinn!" His voice, right in front of me, but I reach out and touch empty air.
Then his hands slide around my waist from behind, and I'm caught. Or not. I transport again, a few steps away, and I run, and he runs after me. We're both laughing and breathless, and just as he's about to catch me I dart sideways into an alley. Switching directions at the last second, he swerves after me and pins me against the wall.
In the shadow of the alley, his eyes shine silver-gray under his dark lashes. He's grinning, that big smile of his that crinkles the corners of his eyes the way I like.
"Got you," he says.
"I'm barefoot in an alley," I say, panting.
"Yes, and?"
"There might be broken glass. Spiders. Roaches."
Without another word he picks me up, hitching my legs around his waist, pressing me harder to the wall. My feet are off the ground now, but that's the last thing on my mind at the moment.
"Is this better?" His voice sends a thrill right through my heart and my stomach.
I can't breathe. I can only stare at his beautiful face, his eyes, his mouth. For a second I think he's really going to kiss me this time; he's got that look— and then he shutters his expression and turns his face away. Sets me down.
"I'll get your shoes," he says. And he's gone.
What was it Ériu said? That I need to make the first move? I thought I had, wearing the dress, but I guess I'll have to make my intentions clearer for him. Maybe he thinks I still just want his friendship— that I'll reject him again if he tries anything else.
But what the heck does he think we're doing? No guy and girl who are just friends act the way we did tonight, chasing each other around empty city streets. Or maybe they do, and I'm the one who's off base here.
He's back with the shoes; but in this dress, crouching to put them on is going to reveal a lot more than I want to. So I hold them as we walk back to the car, swinging them back and forth in one hand.
"That was fun," I say.
He glances at me, the corner of his mouth curving in a half-smile. "We should do it again sometime."
"Just to clarify," I say. " Which part? The part with the dinner, or the part with the little love cubicles, or the part with the huge horny pooka?"
His laugh rings out, echoing along the street. A couple of Fae coming out of the club stare at us, then hurry away in the opposite direction.
"Shh," I say. "You're scaring people."
"Do I look like I care? I'm the Far Darrig, remember? They're supposed to be afraid of me. I worked hard to earn this rep."
We're back at the car now, and he's reaching to open the door for me; but I turn my back to it and look up at him. "I'm not afraid of you."
"No?" He lowers his head, that dangerous look in his eyes. I love it.
"No," I say. "Not at all. Not even a little bit."
"What if I took you out into the forest and made you roast an old hag on a spit, and eat her?"
"Ew! Why would you— I know that's part of your whole legend, but gross! Did you actually do that?"
"One time. I did it one time, centuries ago. To be fair, the hag was already dead, and the guy I was tormenting deserved it. And I didn't make him eat it. I just threatened to. Then he went and blabbed about it, and it's in the lore for good."
"Like the internet," I say. "Once you post something, it's out there forever."
He laughs again. "Oh, sure. Exactly like the internet. Are you going to let me help you into the car, or not?"
I stand there, staring at him, wondering what kind of move I could make that would let him know how I feel. That I want this, with him. Us, together, finally and for real.
"What?" he asks. "You're staring. Am I that gorgeous?"
"Oh my gosh." I roll my eyes and yank open the car door. "You're so full of yourself." Forget making a move. The last thing his ego needs is me keeling over and begging to be his girlfriend— especially after he experienced a half hour of petting from beautiful Lianhan Sídhe.
On the way back, I make conversation for a while, mostly about who Múireann might be and when we should go check out our new lead. Kieran has never heard the name, so he's going to ask Arden to help us track down the person, or Fae.
As we're talking, my eyelids get heavier and heavier. I'm tired, probably because of all the transporting back and forth and the stress of the evening. The next thing I know the car has stopped, and Kieran is opening my door, handing me my things, scooping me up in his arms.
"I'm perfectly able to walk," I mumble. "I'm sleepy, not injured." Gosh, I hope I wasn't drooling.
"Just shut up and let me do this," he says. He carries me up the steps and sets me down at the door of the apartment.
"I had a weird evening," I tell him, smiling. "Thanks for that."
"My pleasure." As he turns away, I catch his hand, the left one. I lift it to my lips and I kiss the back of his hand, and the stump where his ring finger was. For some reason tears spring into my eyes when I do it, and I whirl away, my vision too blurry to see his expression.
"Call me," I say, and then I shut the door.
◆◆◆
"So?" Arden says at breakfast the next day.
"So what?"
"Are you and the Far Darrig together now? Officially?"
I stuff bread into the toaster and jam the lever down a little too hard. "Not exactly. And can you not call him the Far Darrig anymore?"
She shakes her head. "It's like you're both on this merry-go-round that never ends."
"I'm sorry it annoys you. Personally I find it confusing and frustrating."
"It's simple, Aislinn. Either you want him or you don't. Easy."
"What about you?" I ask. "Why don't you ever go out with anyone?"
"Who says I don't? And it's none of your business."
"Then how come my business is your business?"
Wynnie stares at the two of us like she thinks we're nuts. Arden slams her laptop. "When I left the other Korrigan, I didn't sign up to play mother to a stubborn teenage girl and a tortured druid prisoner. You do what you want. But we should all think about our living situation, and how it may need to change."
I frown. "What do you mean?"
She hesitates, like she knows I'm not going to like what comes next. "Now that Maeve is gone, we could go back to the house with the others."
"You're kidding me, right? I'm not going back there."
"Maeve is gone," Arden repeats. "Without her, Gillian and Gemma and Magnolia will be glad to have us back."
"Magnolia and Gemma, maybe. Gillian, I'm not so sure. And I don't want to see her, ever again."
Arden's eyes are hard. She reminds of Maeve right now. "If I decide to go back, you'll have to come with me."
"No, I won't." I turn to Wynnie. "What about you? Do you want to go live with the other Korrigan? I don't know how they treated you, but my childhood wasn't great."
Wynnie looks from me, to Arden, to me— and then she leaps up and runs off into Arden's room.
"Now you upset her," Arden says. "Good job. She'll be crying all day and I won't get any work done."
"What kind of work do you have to do, exactly? Stealing people's money online?"
Her mouth tightens, and her eyes are slits. "If you must know, a favor for the Far Darrig. Checking a name for him. He come
s to me for that sort of thing."
Something about the way she says it gets my attention. Could she be attracted to him? I've never heard her talk about guys, though, or women for that matter. I guess I always thought she didn't care for either gender.
Finding the owner of that name is important; it's a matter of life and death for Kieran and I. "Sorry about Wynnie," I say. "Maybe I can take her out somewhere?"
"She doesn't want to go out, Aislinn. She just wants to hide until she heals. Her mind and soul are just as wounded as her tongue was. And neither one of us is equipped to deal with her level of trauma. She needs someone more motherly, more of a nurse type. Like Magnolia."
"You take her back there, and history is just going to repeat itself all over again," I say. "She's going to hate it, and she's going to run away."
"Not with Maeve gone. It can be different now. They need a leader."
"And you're the person to lead them?"
"Better me than Gillian the Punisher," says Arden. "Or have you forgotten all the beatings she gave you over the years?"
"Beatings you never tried to stop."
"It wouldn't have done any good. I tried with Wynnie— I tried to stop it, and it only made things worse." Her eyes are very bright now, almost like there are tears in them that she's trying to hold back. She always keeps herself under such tight control; it would probably help her to let everything out once in a while.
"I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't know."
"You couldn't have known. You can't know everything we've all been through." She really is crying now, harsh, breathy sobs between her words. "I hate them all sometimes; you know I do. Especially Maeve— I hated her for so many reasons. But now that she's gone, the others don't stand a chance. They need me. The only way we survive is together."
She strides to the paper towel rack and grabs one to wipe her tears, keeping her back to me. But I can see that her shoulders are still shaking.
"If you want to go back and see them, I'll go with you. We can find out how they're doing, and decide what to do next."
Arden nods. When she speaks again, she has her voice back under control, with only the faintest quiver showing that there were ever any tears at all. "I'll speak to Magnolia about it," she says.
4
SIGN
Zane
The nightmares are back.
At first, it's the same one I've had before. I'm in the dark, and the darkness splits open to reveal a deeper dark, and out of that crack crawl monsters upon monsters, running over me, their claws sinking into my lungs and stomach and eyes and legs. It's pain and terror like I've never felt.
And then I'm out of it all. There's a deep blue night sky, and I'm on top of a mountain, on some kind of rocky crag. Wind flows over me, whipping my clothes and stinging my eyes— it's a chilly wind, the kind you feel during the fall.
The wind rushes, and then it roars, and the ground under me gives way and I'm falling, plummeting into the dark belly of the mountain. Clumps of earth fall with me, and rocks, and chunks of roots. I crash to the ground in a gloomy room of rock, and right in front of me there's a seam in the cave wall. It's three times taller than me, and about as wide as my body— a jagged strip of pale rock contrasting with the darker gray rock around it.
Near the seam is some kind of writing— old-looking letters, or maybe symbols. I can't read them, of course. Except that I can.
Damn that's freaky.
I can read them, and the inscription says, "Blood of the goddess. Heart of the earth. Bone of the demon." And under that, "The forgotten speech." Or maybe, "the lost spell?" My dream translation is a little fuzzy on that one.
Creepy.
Suddenly something wet splashes my hand. I glance down, and my hand is slick with blood. I'm bleeding, gushing blood from a wound in my chest; I look around desperately for help, and there's Aislinn lying on the floor, coughing, blood bubbling from her mouth. The Far Darrig is holding her, and his horrible yells of grief echo and echo through the cave; and then blood trickles from his mouth, too, and his eyes go blank. With a shuddering crack, the seam in the wall splits open, and I hear a scratching and a wet smacking, like very large lips over huge gums. A pale snout slides into view.
I sit straight up in bed, sweating. Instantly I pull off the shield knot medallion— I've been wearing it non-stop since the whole druid experience, just for personal protection.
I should have burned the damn thing.
These dreams are getting too weird. I need to talk to Aislinn about it.
When I call her the next day, after I'm done with classes, she sounds surprised and pleased. "Zane?"
"Hey girl. How you doin'?"
"Oh, pretty good. Had an unpleasant visit from the Fates, but other than that— how are you?"
"Not great, actually. Been having some nightmares. Think you and the Far D— Kieran, I mean— you think you guys could meet me?"
"Oh. Okay, sure. But Zane, I'm sure he's not giving you nightmares on purpose."
"No, no, I know that. This is— something else. Something weirder."
"All right. Meet us at the apartment."
When I knock, the nervous mute chick, Wynnie, opens the door. "Hey there," I say in my most non-threatening voice. "I'm here to meet Aislinn and Kieran."
"I know," she says, clear as a bell.
"Hey! You got your tongue back!"
"Yes, Ériu healed me."
"Good, good, that's real good. You— you look great, too. I mean—"
She's backing away, a nervous look in her eyes, so I just go in, giving her plenty of space, and step into the living room.
The most beautiful woman I've ever seen is sitting on the couch, holding the Far Darrig's hand in hers. There's a blue glow shining through her fingers. She turns, and her eyes are blue, so blue. She smiles at me, perfect full lips, perfect teeth.
Ériu. It's gotta be her. Wow.
"Hey, Zane," says the Far Darrig. "Just a little healing session."
"How's the finger comin' along, man?"
"A few more weeks," says Ériu. "It takes time and effort." The blue glow fades from her hands, and she rises.
"Thank you for coming," the Far Darrig says.
"My pleasure. Till next time." She nods to me on her way out; I swear she floats past me instead of walking.
"Dude," I say, after the door closes behind her.
"Don't even think about it," says Arden, from behind her laptop. I barely noticed her, sitting there at the kitchen table. "You're not her type."
"I wasn't— a guy can admire a beautiful woman, okay? Like this one, right here," I say, as Aislinn walks out of her room. And she sure does look beautiful, with that red hair flowing around her shoulders and those shorts, showing off her long legs.
"Thanks." Her cheeks get a little pink. "How are you, Zane?"
"Good. Except for the dreams. Talk about bad— these are the worst. Okay, so they started when you gave me this thing—" I pull out the Celtic medallion.
Arden stands up, and so does the Far Darrig, his eyes widening in shock.
"Is that what I think it is?" he says.
"Yes," Arden says.
"Where did you get that?" he asks me.
"I gave it to him." Aislinn looks confused by their reactions. "For protection. I found it in a gift box with my mother's things. She meant it for my father, for his birthday."
"What's the deal with this thing?" I ask. Clearly there's a deal.
"That," says the Far Darrig, "is the amulet of Cathbad, chief druid of the court of King Conchobar mac Nessa."
I give him a blank stare. "That bunch of words supposed to mean something?"
"King Conchobar was extremely powerful and extremely cruel," says Arden. "He was Maeve's first husband, but she left him because he abused her. When she later became Queen of Connacht, he was her biggest rival. All she could think about was destroying him."
"Cathbad was Conchobar's seer," adds the Far Darrig. "He could perceive the future— he
had visions, a genuine gift, very rare. Maeve searched high and low for a seer for her own court, and that's when she found me. I was pretending to be a powerful druid to hide my Tuatha Dé Danann blood, since my people were being driven from the land. I tricked her into thinking I could see the future."
"And when his prophecies were proven false, she retaliated with violence," Arden says. "Killed his family, his wife— he gets back at her by cursing all of us— you get the picture. The important part is that Cathbad was no fake. He could see the future, and now you're carrying his amulet. What have you seen in these dreams of yours?"
"Nothing good. Blood. Monsters. Samhain."
They all exchange significant looks, and Aislinn seems excited. "Really? Oh, this could be just what we need."
"Whoa, whoa." I take a step back and bump into Wynnie, who's apparently standing right behind me. She recoils a few feet. "Listen, I don't know what's going on here. Somebody needs to clue me in."
"Let's sit down," says Aislinn, and she sits right down on the floor. "Come on." She pats the space beside her, so I sit, and she explains to me all they know about Samhain, and what's being planned for it, and the Fates' ultimatum.
"So if we can't figure out what's going to happen, and how to stop it, Kieran and I will die," she says. "To pay for the Fae and the druids we each killed."
"Not just you," I say, slowly. "If this is for real, and the monsters in my dream really do come out through a crack between worlds, a lot more people are going to die, too."
"Tell us everything you've seen," says the Far Darrig. At a look from Aislinn he adds, "Please."
I tell them the dreams I've had— leaving out the part about them kissing in the first one, and the horrible sounds he made while she was dying in the second one. Thinking of them together still really messes me up inside— although they're not acting like they're together. No hand-holding or sitting super close to each other. Weird. I thought for sure they would have made it a thing after the whole druid deal. I mean, it's been more than a month. What are they waiting for?
"Blood of the goddess. Heart of the earth. Bone of the demon," repeats the Far Darrig. "That sounds like the elements for a spell."
Samhain Page 4
